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phoenixsbby · 2 years

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This Must Be The Place - Rooster x Roommate!reader

summary: oh my god ... they were roommates. anyway, rooster’s a stage 5 clinger (and madly in love with you) and doesn’t realize until the threat of losing you presents itself.

WC: 5k

a/n: i’ve been thinking about a roommate trope series for awhile. some of the flashbacks/points in this fic that i emphasize, i may want to write entire fics for. if that’s something anyone (could be just one person lol) wants to see, let your girl know :)

warnings: angstttt, swearing, mentions of death, low key toxic behavior, some smut - minors dni (🤺)

There had to be new track marks indented in the carpet given how hard Rooster is pacing back and forth in the living room of the cottage. The room wasn’t big, there wasn’t much space to cover, but he can’t stop. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He’s restless, unable to settle down because where the hell are you?

Running was part of your routine now. A part of your routine he’s gotten used to since you moved in. You took advantage of the cooler evening San Diego temperatures and usually timed your runs to arrive back when he pulled in from work. Whether the timing was intentional, to ensure you’d see each other more, he wasn’t sure but, he didn’t stop to consider that because when he pulled in today, you were nowhere to be found.

You’re an adult, a grown up, and normally, Bradley wouldn’t stress about it. Maybe you went for an extra long run, maybe you stopped at the beach for a while. From the time he entered the cottage, changed into comfier clothes, and popped the lid off a beer, that’s what he told himself. Then thunder that sounded alarmingly deep and close rattled the house. Then rain started to fall, just a small sprinkle that quickly escalated into to a downpour. And you still hadn’t returned.

The darker the sky turned, the darker his thoughts about you became. Could you have been hurt and stranded in the storm, could you be lost? You’ve only lived in the area for a few months, maybe you decided to take a different turn and couldn’t find your way back. If that was the case, then why weren’t you answering your phone?

He’d texted (an embarrassing number of times) and called but it went to voicemail. The texts remained unread. And that fact in itself was what started to mix his worry with a brewing anger.

Anxiety, irritation, fear cloud any of his rational thoughts. He pictures you out in the rain, alone, shivering, scared and lungs for his keys. He’d find you, if he just drove around aimlessly, he’d find you.

Seconds before he can reach for the doorknob, it turns and you just stroll in. You’re soaked to the bone, so wet that the clothes you’d chosen to run in have essentially morphed into a new layer of skin. His eyes scan over your figure, he can make out every shape, dip, and bend of your body. The way the shirt sticks to the curves of your hips, your breasts. Your nipples poke through the thin material, no doubt hardened by the cold. God, if he wasn’t so pissed at you, he’d be very turned on. It was entirely possible that he was both.

“Hey.” You greet him, still a little breathless from the run. It felt so good to run in the rain. The water cooled your hot, sweaty skin, it coated you, calmed you, and pushed you to keep going. You’d lost track of time. Eventually, despite the rain keeping you fresh, your feet began to ache so you circled back. You felt a little guilty knowing you’d left Bradley alone at the house but, you weren’t expecting to see him looking so hurt.

“What’s-“

“Where the fuck have you been?” Despite the venom dripping in his tone, his voice remains eerily level. Goosebumps erupt across your skin and you’re almost positive it’s not from the wet clothes.

“Just running. I got a little carried away.” You take a tentative step closer. “Sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Why didn’t you check your phone? It’s dark and storming and you didn’t reply at all. Do you have any idea what I thought may have happened to you?” He raises his voice then, his face shades redder than before.

You scramble to pull your phone out from your pack and fumble it a few times in your slippery hands before processing what you’re seeing - many, many missed calls and texts from Bradley displayed across the screen.

Roos: Hey, I’m home. Long run?

Roos: Coming back soon? Looks like it’s going to storm.

Roos: Where are you?

Roos: Answer your phone.

Roos: I’m starting to freak out.

Roos: Just please, let me know that you’re okay.

You used to despise exercising. The idea of running, willingly, made you grimace. You had never felt the need to participate in the grueling activity. Then very quickly, very unexpectedly, your circumstances had changed. Penny recommended it to you when you informed her you hadn’t left the house, let alone your bed in days.

“I don’t want to get up, Pen.” You had told her over the phone, pressed between the pillows. “If I get up, then I have to think. And when I think, I only think about her.” Your voice cracked at the end, tears threatened to spill despite how sure you were that you couldn’t have any more tears left to cry. Somehow more always came.

“Have you thought about at least taking a walk? Maybe even a run?” You wanted to laugh but, laughing seemed almost as daunting as getting up. You loved your Aunt Penny, she had embodied the fun, cool aunt role so well. You had as many beautiful memories with her as you did with your mother, a sizable amount of them overlapping. You clung to all those memories now.

“Put some music on, your favorite songs, and just let your legs carry you. Tune everything else out. It feels good. Just try, for me?”

You’d do anything for Penny. Her advice may have saved you, it got you up and out into the fresh air. Your runs turned into your time to forget the world around you, to forget how cruel it could be. For however long you could manage, it was just you, your playlists, and the ground beneath you. You tended to silence your phone during that time, the less reminders distractions the better.

“I-“ You stutter, looking up from your phone back to him. “I’m sorry, I just got carried away.” You repeat yourself because that’s really all it was, it was harmless.

Except it’s so clear in the way Bradley’s jaw ticks with tension and his fists clench at his sides that it was not harmless.

“This is so typical of you, I don’t know why I expected anything else.” He shakes his head, letting out a humorless laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re irresponsible! You let things slide like they mean nothing to you!”

You feel his words like a punch to the chest, the air suddenly sucked from your lungs. After your mom died, you let yourself slip down a path of carelessness. You didn’t have experience before her death with mourning and you’d always considered yourself grateful for that. So when you experienced grief in its fullest, most powerful form, you disregarded a lot of things that you once cared deeply about. Friendships, work, even cleaning the damn apartment - none of that felt like it mattered if you didn’t get to share it with her.

Since you’d moved in with Bradley, you felt more responsible knowing someone else relied on you. A few times, you felt yourself slipping back into old habits but, you thought he understood that it only meant you were grieving all over again.

“It’s not that big of a deal to not answer my phone one time-“

“Oh my god! You do realize you’re being selfish right? Your feelings aren’t the only ones that matter!”

You gape at him, at this man you thought was your friend. He meant more to you than that, actually. Maybe that’s why you felt such a heavy pressure come over you at the thought of him believing these things about you. If you heard him say anymore, you’re sure your heart would burst under the weight.

You shake your head and grit your teeth, trying to be the bigger person. You want to get away from him before you say something you’d regret but that’s the problem in fighting with your damn roommate, there aren’t many places to go to be alone.

Your sopping clothes have chilled you so deep, you feel like your bone marrow has solidified into ice. If you’re going to be trapped in this house to sulk over your best friends insults, you may as well do it in a scalding hot shower.

You brush past Bradley and make a beeline toward the bathroom, cautious to avoid any contact.

“You’re just going to walk away?” You hear him call after you. You mishandle the doorknob before pushing the door open. “Grow up, Y/N!”

You slam the door closed behind you.

Bradley runs his hands down his face, releasing a deep, shaky sigh. He lets his body collapse down on the couch before resting his head in between his hands. He feels himself coming down from it, from the adrenaline of not knowing if you were okay, from fighting. He’s used to adrenaline, he’s grown accustomed and almost comfortable with the otherwise painful experience of his body coming back to itself.

His skin prickles and his head begins to pulse under his palms. He can’t believe he said those things to you, about you. None of what he said, he truly believed. Yet, he threw them in your face anyway. He used those guarded self-doubts and insecurities he’d coaxed out of you since you’d become friends against you.

He didn’t mean it.

He saw all of the ways you had grown and healed since coming to be closer to your aunt, since you rented out his small spare bedroom and tried to restart your life without your mom. He wants to praise you for it, not tear you back down to square one. Instead, he let his own fear take over and make him cruel.

Fear was the best way to describe it because what he realized he felt for you when you came back - it terrified him.

The worry when you were gone and the utter relief when you were okay, it stretched beyond what a concerned friend would feel. He was uneasy when you weren’t there, yes. His relief when you returned was almost paralyzing, yes. And maybe that was normal for roommates, for friends. But what wasn’t normal was the overwhelming desire to pull you against him tightly and kiss you senselessly just to ensure himself you were actually there, then never let go so he’d know you were 100% safe in his arms.

Not to mention the other burning need he felt when he saw your rain-soaked body. He saw the goosebumps, the shivers that wracked you. He wanted to warm every inch of your skin with his hands, his lips, his own body heat. That wasn’t somethings friends did.

You two had danced that line before, the thin divide between friends and something more. He wasn’t blind to the signals you’d sent him since adjusting to him and your new home, the signals he was sure he was sending back.

The memory of your body shuddering under his touch was permanently stamped into his brain. He’d pressed you up against the back brick wall of the Hard Deck, unashamed, determined to feel grounded again after returning from his assignment. They’d lost people on that mission. No one in his squadron but, that didn’t make it any less chilling. It could have easily been him. He’d known the risks of the job when he decided he wanted to be a Naval Aviator. The reward, the pride he felt when flying, always outweighed the risk for him.

When you moved in, he started getting used to seeing your pretty face when he came home every day. He got used to eating the dinners you’d cook (no matter how many times he promised it wasn’t necessary). He developed an ache to sit close to you and watch shitty reality TV. He down right cherished hearing your laugh and getting to experience your goodbye hugs, the way you clung to him like it may be the last time you ever got to.

He could have been shot down, died in that F-18, and for a while up in the air after, he thought about you.

God, when did he fall in love with you?

That night, behind the bar, your body reacted to him. There was an obvious attraction in the way you arched your back to press yourself into him. Was it just attraction, or was there something more?

He swears that there’s this look, a certain smile, that you reserve just for him. It’s affectionate, thoughtful, and there’s a distinct glow in your eyes that lights him from the inside out.

Finally crossing that blurred yet monumental line meant risking everything that you both developed in your time living together. You had planted this seed of friendship and watered it and nurtured it and it flourished. Bradley wasn’t sure he was ready to trim in at the root. He’d grown so comfortable with your presence that he’s worried without it, he’d feel hollow.

His mind and his body were at war. He ached to close the gap that he created between you two while he was still rapidly running through all of the ways it could go wrong.

He was standing up from the couch without fully comprehending it, leaning his forehead against the door of the bathroom without having a clue what to say. He pictures you just beyond that door, hot water cascading over you. His hands twitch at his sides with want - want to feel you, want to hold you not only for the pleasure but for a promise that he was there.

He once told you that you weren’t alone now that your mom was gone - he wanted to prove it.

The tap, tap, tap of knuckles against wood startles you slightly, jolting you out of a daze of unwanted thoughts. The lackluster water pressure and Bradley’s words had lulled you into thinking about how everything changed since the time Penny suggested you move to California. You want to believe that you were moving forward, that you had shed a layer of yourself that was all negativity and sadness off like snakeskin.

You’ve been making progress, haven’t you?

“Honey?”

You bring a hand up against the tile of the shower to steady yourself, dizzy and warm from hearing the nickname. You desperately wanted a callsign to fit in with your new friends and you bestowed the honor of choosing one for you on Rooster.

“Why ‘honey’? Cause I’m so sweet?” You smirked and wiggled your eyebrows from your position adjacent to Bradley on the porch swing. The cottage Bradley had offered you a room in had a perfect, little porch which a sliver of an ocean view. You were almost appalled at the fact that he didn’t have any seating out there to watch the sunset every night. That porch swing was one of the most important clauses in your ‘lease’.

Bradley agreed to the addition, not thinking much of it. He rarely had time to relax on the porch. He was always up early for work and returning after dark or too dead tired to think about plopping himself down anywhere other than the couch or his bed.

But the first time he pulled up in the Bronco and saw you, tucked under a blanket, yielding all your attention to the setting sun, he suddenly longed to spend every free second he had on that swing beside you.

“No way. Don’t get me wrong, you have your nice moments but-“ He was halted by a playful smack to the arm and tried his best not to grin too wide at the sound of your laugh. “No, what I mean is … honey is sticky. It’s always leaving a mess, it’s hard to clean up-“

“Dude!” You poked at his side and shook your head, your smile never dulling. “Is this supposed to flatter me?”

“What I’m trying to say is, it’s resilient. Strong.” He turned to face you, his smile softened down to a tender look. “You’re ‘honey’ because you’re those things.” He lifted a hand to your face, ready to wipe any tears that fell from your glassy eyes. “You’re kind of messy too.”

You swiped away his hand but let out a beautiful, loud cackle of a laugh that you’re sure the entire neighborhood heard.

“Yeah?” You call out weakly in response.

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes to you muffled behind the barrier of the door.

“Don’t worry about it.” You figure the quicker you can dismiss the conversation, the quicker the lingering feelings of his words will dissipate.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” But had you? Whether or not he meant it, it still stung to think those thoughts, those feelings about you, flashed through his brain at all.

Silence follows. After a beat, you think you he may have walked away.

“Can I come in?”

You freeze, pressing your hand more firmly against the shower wall. If he came in, the only barrier left between you would be the shower curtain ... and your emotional baggage, of course. The idea of being physically vulnerable in front of Bradley didn’t intimidate or scare you - it excited you. It was the emotional vulnerability that had you hesitating.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about this through a door.”

“Can’t it wait?”

More silence, anticipation pools heavily in the bottom of your stomach.

“No.” You feel his response drench over you like the water from your shower had suddenly gone cold (but it hasn’t, you double checked).

“Okay. You can come in.” You listen carefully for the small squeak of the door when it opens and the sturdy click of it returning closed. You don’t dare to peek around the curtain. More anticipation gathers, bubbling into your throat, pushing words out eagerly to fill the tense silence.

“I shouldn’t have said those things.” His voice is so much cleared now, closer. It’s easier to hear the sincerity, the regret, in his tone.

“Yet you did.”

“I was scared.”

You come close to shoving him out of the room to hide behind the door again. Maybe then the rawness of his voice wouldn’t feel like it was splitting you in two.

“I know it was stupid to not check my phone. But despite what you may think, I am an adult. I can handle myself and I would have if something happened.”

“I know. I-“ He inhales a deep breath. “Yes, I was scared that you could be hurt or taken or whatever. But I was more scared of the idea of losing you. If anything ever happened to you ...” He releases the inhale and it comes out shaky. “I was scared because I realized I care about you. More than a roommate, more than a friend. And it would be really awesome to tell you this to your face, not to the shower curtain.”

You lift an unsteady hand to the curtain and pull it back slightly, revealing your face and some of your chest to oblige him. Your heart pounds heavier against your ribcage when you take him in. Leaning against the sink, he looks utterly destroyed. Like he’s in pain telling you this but also like he’s physically restraining himself from saying more, from reaching out and ripping the curtain aside, tearing down any remaining physical and emotional barriers between you two.

“I tried not to. For a while, I thought what I felt was deep admiration for a friend. For someone who’s been there for me, taken care of me. But I know that friends don’t want to touch their friends the way I want to touch you. They don’t want to skim their teeth over their friends skin and shelter them from every possible threat. And when you weren’t answering, I knew that what I felt wasn’t friendly. It was primal, instinctual. I knew I lo-

“Bradley.” God, stop. You want nothing more to hear him say it. But that would make this real. Real love is opening yourself up to brutal, unforgiving pain. You had just lost someone you loved and you were sure you’d never get over it. The first few weeks, you weren’t sure you’d even survive it. Could you survive something like that again if you let yourself love Bradley then lost him too?

His eyes flicker over your face, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. He looks like he’s processing everything he just said, like his brain is only now just registering everything he let spill out.

You reach a hand out, thankful for the smaller sized bathroom because you’re able to reach him and just barely skim your fingertips across his cheek. You draw him closer until his cheek is resting firmly into your palm and he’s leaning into your touch.

“I’m messed up.” You’re almost pleading, ‘don’t love me, we both know how this could end.’

“If you are, then I am too. But I don’t care. I’ve seen you and still ...”

“We both know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. It’s awful.”

“It’s worth it. To have all of the good moments. I wouldn’t trade the memories I have of my mom and my dad if it meant I didn’t have to grieve them. Loving them was worth losing them.” He wraps a hand around the one you have cradling his face, squeezing it gently.

You feel that way about your mom too. You’d never forfeit the moments you two shared as you grew up. Everything she taught you, it made you who you were today, it brought you to this moment.

“You seem so sure.”

“You’re worth it.”

You slide your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to you, hard and fast, not giving him much time to process what was happening until his lips pressed against yours. He recovers quickly, kissing you back while snaking a hand through your soaked hair.

Kissing him feels like everything you imagined it, everything you shamelessly dreamt it to be and more. Your body feels electrified, humming with the energy of the possibilities of what this could be. You greedily pull him closer, not caring about the wetness of your body against his clothed one. A flash of heat surges through you at the sound of his groans when you deepen the kiss, swirling your tongue around his.

Wait, he said nice things about you. He put himself and how he felt out there and deserved to hear that you felt them too.

“Bradley,” You reluctantly put some space between your face and his but keep the vice grip you have on the back of his neck. “I-“ Spit it out, girl! This man with half hooded eyes is looking down at you like he’s ready to consume you and you still struggle to tell him you freaking love him. “I-“

“I know.” He hushes you with a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Trust me, honey, Y/N,” He runs a hand down your bare spine, pulling you flush against him again. “I know.”

Thank fuck he kisses you immediately after because you think you may have combusted if he hadn’t.

Bradley fumbles with the shower valve a couple of times before the water stops pouring out of the head. Not waiting to ensure the waters turned all the way off, he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you to him before he lifts you up and out of the shower. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist and let him carry you out of the bathroom.

Without breaking the kiss, he navigates the halls and brings you into his bedroom, the bedroom you’ve been in plenty of times before. Hell, you’ve even slept in his bed, but the promise of what’s to come has a rush of butterflies erupting from your stomach and traveling to your core when he lays you back against his soft bedsheets. He draws away from your lips, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes.

You’re completely naked, exposed for him, while he remains fully clothed. You should be embarrassed, timid, maybe even trying to cover yourself up. Yet all you are is thrilled, warm and comfortable like you’re being bathed in sunlight as he pulls away just enough to look down at all of you.

He reaches out and trails the pad of his thumb across your slightly swollen bottom lip, down your chin and the column of your neck. Your breathing accelerates as his thumb moves lower, in between your collarbones, drawing a line right down the middle of your sternum.

“Bradley.” His name comes out in a whisper, like it’s all you can manage when his eyes are still locked on yours and he’s touching you like this.

“You’re so beautiful.” He drags his thumb down the center of your stomach, the lower is gets, the more breathless you feel. You clutch at his sides, fisting the fabric of his t-shirt in your grasp.

“This is a little one-sided, don’t you think?” You release a breathy laugh and let your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt. His skin is feverish and the muscles of his stomach are hard against your palms.

“I want to take my time with you. Then, we can move on to me.” He grins, tracing intoxicatingly slow and sensual circles on the skin of your exposed hips.

“I’m not sure how long I can wait.” You pull him closer with your legs still wrapped around him, desperate to feel an ounce of friction on the spot you crave it the most.

“You’ll wait however long I tell you to wait, baby.” He smirks.

You prop yourself on your elbows and let a small whimper out at the sight of him drop down to knees in front of you. “You’re cocky.” He hitches your legs over his shoulders and tugs you close, so close you can practically feel his hot breath against your center.

“I think I’ve earned the right to be.” He’s kneading your thighs with his fingertips, dragging them further and further and further inward.

“Prove it.” And prove it, he does.

Bradley laps his tongue eagerly up your slit before coaxing, sucking, and nipping at your clit. All control of your body ceases to be yours when he works you like that. You moan and gasp and buck against him at each movement until the muscles in your legs are locking tightly around him. You’re shaking with a buildup so strong, you feel like you might burst out of your own skin at any moment.

Bradley knows it too and he doesn’t let up - it’s too much. You have to dig your hands into the roots of his hair and tug at them so hard just to gain back some control. Except your rough pull does nothing but elicit a strangled groan from the back of his throat. The noise in itself paired with its deep vibrations against your core sends white hot pleasure searing through you so powerfully, you see stars.

He kisses the inside of your thighs softy as you come down, humming to himself as you blink away your hazy vision. You comb a hand through his hair a few times, pulling him back up and over you. His grin is so wide and smug and you can’t help but return it.

“I’m not saying it.” You bite your lip to hold back from grinning any wider.

“You don’t have to say anything. Trust me, I know.” You’re surprised your teeth don’t clash when you kiss each other with equally big smiles. You can taste the metallic tang of yourself on his lips and it evokes a new surge of desire to come over you.

You drag a hand down his lower stomach, his muscles taut under your touch. You let your palm skim over the front of the bulge pressing tightly against his pants and his hips buck at the same time you feel his breath hitch in the kiss.

“Someone’s eager.” You mutter in between the sloppy kisses Bradley’s pushing against your lips. You can tell he’s growing more and more desperate, his breathing turning rapid and shallow as you push harder against his rocking hips.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He says as he pushes himself off you briefly to rip the t-shirt up and over his head, discarding it to the side before returning his body to yours. You’re nearly vibrating at the sensation of his bare chest pressing against yours. His lips don’t come back to yours, instead they move to your neck, down to your chest, covering your breasts with open mouth kisses.

“Let me put you out of your misery then. Switch with me and I’ll take care of you.” You move your hands to his shoulders to push yourself up when he wraps his hands and your wrists.

“Not tonight, baby. Trust me, I want that but, I need to be inside you.” He kisses each corner of your mouth and lays you back flat underneath him. “Is that something you want?”

“Please.” You gasp, feeling him settling between your legs, hot and pulsing under his pants. He leaves you with one last deep, agonizingly slow kiss before stepping away and removing the remainder of his clothing.

Bradley pushes himself inside you with his forehead resting on yours and in that moment, you’ve never felt more full – physically from the sensation of him stretching you out but also from the look that passes between you. You’re filling holes in each other that life has cut into you, holes you never thought would feel so good to be closed.

For a while, you thought you’d never feel complete again, like a part of your soul would always be missing. But here, right under Bradley, moving with him naturally like you’ve always been meant to connect with him in this way, you think this must be the place where you learn to feel whole again.

——

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alohomorasstuff · 4 months

Note

mattheos tutor, slow burn, fluff, angst, trauma, shy school girl

thank u sm for giving me requests. I’ve gone for being Mattheo’s tutor in this one, it’s angsty however i definitely want to create a fic based on the reader being shy soon!

This is my first fic so pls let me know what you all think because i’m low-key proud I enjoyed reading it back 🙏🏽🙏🏽

warning- slightly mature themes but nothing too extreme

—————————————————————————————

Mattheo riddle x reader

Like ink-

Y/n’s audible sigh ricocheted off the cool stone walls of the dungeon in which she was currently suffering through potions in. The cause of this guttural sound was Professor Slughorn, stating that Y/n would be tutoring a fellow member of the class. Now, normally the girl would not mind, she was smart after all and took any chance to help others study as it helped her to consolidate her knowledge. However, the problem lay with who she had been tasked with tutoring for the next few weeks.

By no means was Y/N a terrible person. In fact, she was quite the opposite. She was popular- boys wanted to be with her, girls wanted to just simply be her. She was the Slytherin Princess in her own right. Shiny black locks, dark rich eyes that were deep,told a story with every flutter of her lashes. With no hesitation, Y/n flicked her eyes towards her subject and was met by two gorgeous pools of brown, flecked with gold. A playful, yet almost sinful glimmer flashed across his eyes and Y/n’s eyes darted down to his lips, his tongue dancing across them making them shine.

No.

Y/N redirected her lustful gaze into a hate fuelled scowl. Mattheo Riddle. The slytherin heir, prince, heartthrob was nothing worth falling for. His reputation for having girls like a revolving door made Y/N feel sick.Yes, his face was beautiful but his personality was nothing of the sort. Mattheo continued to smirk, seemingly amused by Y/N’s attempt at intimidation. “Do one Riddle”

“I’d much rather do you Princess” Mattheo chuckled , his curls bouncing across his forehead. Gosh was he beautiful.

“ Oh please, how many girls has that worked on this week?”Mattheo’s eyes remained playful, yet he abstained from answering, his eyebrow quirked in amusement instead.

Pathetic.

“Meet me at 7 in the library and do not be late or I will rip every single curl off of your obnoxiously large head”. This elicited a giggle to fall off Mattheo’s lips, a strange feeling brewing within Y/N’s stomach.

Stop it.

————————————————————————————

Studying with Mattheo was going well, until it wasn’t. Surprisingly, Mattheo was taking in what Y/N was telling him, brows furrowed in concentration as he scribbled down notes on his parchment. Y/N kept stealing glances at him, unaware that he was watching her every move. They continued working until they both reached towards the ink pot. Their hands clashed together sending the pot flying towards its victim - which just so happened to be Y/N’s blouse. The ink sunk into her shirt, spreading like poison leaving Y/N with a damp chest. She was shocked, but even more shocked at the reaction given by Mattheo. He looked guilty and began to apologise profusely, something Y/N was not expecting.

“Teo it’s fine, it’s fine don’t worry” Y/N sighed unsure of what to do. Mattheo’s ears pricked up.

“Teo?” he questioned, staring intently at Y/N.

“oh, I uh- oh be quiet you know what I meant. You’re nothing special Riddle and don’t ever think for a second that you are” she spat. Mattheo’s disposition suddenly changed. He began to move closer and Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. “Don’t be such a brat Y/N. You know what happens to brats. They get punished. Do you want to be punished?” He groaned.

His lips danced across the skin on her neck and she suddenly felt vulnerable, the damp of her top now not the only wetness she could feel as she clenched her thighs. Mattheo took note of this. He knew she liked it, wanted it, needed it.

This was wrong, so wrong. Y/N had a burning hatred for him she was sure of it. “Go to hell riddle” .

Y/N suddenly felt a strong, muscular hand grip the base of her throat. She whimpered. “Tut tut Y/N. If I were to do that, who would be here to make you feel like this Princess?” he questioned, tightening his grip. He reached down with his spare hand and began to toy with the buttons of her shirt. “Would be such a pity if these were to just-“

Pop.

Y/N suddenly felt the cool air of the library across her chest and gasped. “Teo” she whispered. He looked towards her, his eyes now sinfully dark. “Say that again”.

All sense of wishing him dead had now dried up and the passion within her now began to spread like the ink on her now torn shirt.

“Please Teo, give me what I need”

“And what is that mí amor?”

“you”

Mattheo groaned and connected his lips with Y/N’s. She succumbed to him, allowed him to control her. He moved his head away, Y/N whimpering at the loss of contact.

“So needy, look at you so weak, so desperate for me. I knew it was an act. I knew the pathetic looks, the witty comments were just a facade. You want me. You need me. You know you do ” Mattheo purred, tangling his fingers through her hair.

“Do one Riddle”

“Let me”

And Y/N did; she knew she wanted him, needed him and that was what she was going to get.

————————————————————————————

Panting breaths, roaming hands, stolen kisses, the absence of clothes and the warmth of bare skin.

Mattheo and Y/N’s foreheads were pressed together as Mattheo coaxed her down from her high.

“Still want me to go to hell princess?” He cooed.

“only if you take me to heaven first” she breathed back.

And with that, he pressed his lips to hers gently, the creases of his now plump, red lips tattooing her smooth lips like ink, as if sealing them shut with a promise.

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channieandhisgoonsquad · 9 months

Text

Oh. Your tire is fucked.

Word Count: 2.3K

You were such a good person. That’s what you kept telling yourself at four in the fucking morning as you threw on your sweatpants to go with your big ass sleep shirt.

You owed Han a favor after he bought your meal a couple weeks ago when you forgot your wallet. You felt so dumb but swore you would pay him back.

That was before you realized this is what he was going to ask of you, to drive him to the airport in the middle of the night. He wanted to go visit some people in Malaysia during his time off and this was the only way her could get himself to the airport discreetly.

You told him to make sure he had a few hours of leeway in case things went wrong. He tried to fight you, but you knew you would have to go in with him to make sure he remained anonymous. But you also just wanted to give him time to relax before hand; knowing how stressed he can get.

He dragged himself and his suitcase out of the apartment looking as if he was barely awake. Despite that, your friend looked like he meant business. His fitted sweater and fancy jeans didn’t help him remain low key, but Han’s fashion isn’t really described with that term.

His hair was immaculate, and as he slid into the passenger seat you greeted him with a sleepy hi while he just grunted.

The airport you were headed to was half an hour away, so you just sat there with the music on low as Han seemed to have snoozed back into sleep. It was okay though, because you loved driving.

Twenty minutes in, your car had a light turn on and prompted you that your tired was low on air. You pulled off the side of the road into an empty lot to investigate.

Oh. Your tire is fucked.

Flat as fuck.

Han was looking out the window at you while you ran your hands across your face. You groaned as you went back to the other side.

“I’ve got a flat, dude. You might want to call a cab from the company. I know you wanted to remain low key, but it’s gonna be a while.”

He looked over like you were crazy. “I am not leaving you here in the middle of the country alone! Weirdos could be anywhere.”

“Well, I’m already in the car with you…”

He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, “you know what I mean, y/n. It’s still dark out. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“But your flight.”

“You’re more important.”

You stopped to look at your phone for your insurance app. The options for a tow would take a couple of hours at the least for the hour it is. “Han, I’ve got to wait her for two hours. You need to call someone at least.”

He contemplated your statement. He really didn’t want you left alone; he would feel so guilty. But, he literally hasn’t been back to Malaysia since he became an idol. The inner turmoil was killing his half-awake brain. But his heart told him what to do.

“No I’m stay with you.”

“Han you’re going to miss your flight if you don’t-“

“ I know that, y/n! But if I leave, I can’t make sure that you’re safe. And you are more important to me than catch a flight. So much more important.” You looked away from the app to look at your friend. His eyes were glassier than before, and you realized he had tears gathering at the rim.

You reached your right hand over to grasp his own and get him to look over at you. “Okay, Han. I’d love the company. Why are you so upset, though?”

“Because.” He took in a huge gulp of air and breathed out slowly to give himself a second to compose himself. You were so concerned and he felt guilty for allow your face to look so sullen. He wanted that glimmer of happiness back more than anything.

He looked at his feet to try and avoid the puppy dog sadness. Before he could second guess, the words were out. “Because I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

The surprise was evident as your eyes widened. But, just as quickly, they softened and a small smile crept onto your face. “Hannie. My squirrelly man.”

He looked back to see the gorgeous flip of your emotions and just waited for you to say something else.

“Well, if you would’ve started with that I would’ve understood a lot quicker.” He chuckled nervously at your silly response.

“Yeah, sorry. I just wasn’t sure how you would respond and I got in my head too much and now I’m just rambling at you and-“

“Hey, hey, hey! I love you, too, Han Jisung.”

“You do!?”

“Why else would I wake up in the dead of night to take someone to the airport? I wanted to be the last person to say goodbye before you left me.” You sweetly reached for his chin and made his heart flutter.

“I wasn’t leaving you. I was coming back.”

“Every time you leave to travel is too long for me.” You held onto his chin as you leaned over the console of your warm car to kiss the silly man.

His face was cold compared to the warmth of the tears that had slipped from him. The contrast was surprising, but you could tell he was happy as he reciprocated the way you moved your lips against his.

This was a sensation you never expected to feel. This crush that had lingered in your brain for the last two years of befriending the nervous man had been eating away at your senses. But you persisted. Confiding in one of your mutuals, Felix. He had told you many times to tell him, but you stayed silent and ignored him enough for him to drop it.

You pulled back to wipe the salty sadness from his beautiful face and laughed when he still looked surprisedly at you. This man was going to be the death of you but, it was a willing demise.

He pulled you by your neck back into him as he aggressively took your face back into his; you were both wide awake now. The two of you were trying to connect your bodies, but the center console was still in the way.

Suddenly, the two of you were climbing over the offending object to get into the back seat of your crossover. Over his shoulder you could see that the windows were already fogging over from the excessive breathing. You crashed onto his lap, making sure to straddle him and get him between, around, under, and against you.

His existence consumed your soul; finally feeling at peace with those lingering and haunting emotions. You felt yourself falling deeper into his own both emotionally and physically.

Han made sure to deepen the kiss as he grabbed onto your lower back to pull you closer to him. In response to the intensity, the warmth you had been feeling in your heart spread down to your pussy and you were grinding against his jeans, looking for any sense of connection.

When he processed what you were up to he disconnected you two only at your mouths to speak. You stared into his pretty eyes with such intensity that he smirked nervously, "Y/n, we don't need to keep going. This isn't how I was planning to tell you how I felt! I want to take you on a date. I had a plan..."

There wasn't even an inch of space between your lips as they ghosted over each other while he spoke, and it was driving you crazy. Along with his overthinking that you had gotten used to. "Ji, life hardly ever goes as planned. We have over an hour before someone shows up. I want you to fuck me."

He swallowed harshly as you continued to feel his breath fan over your own, "Can I make love to you for the first time?"

"You're so cute!" You squeal at your man that was melting your heart and making you wetter than you've ever been, "Please do, love."

He pecked your lips before he grabbed your waist and pull you off to his side, even though you detested the removal of your crotch on his confined hard on. He reached up front to pull your seat forward and proceeded to remove his pants to relieve some pressure. You immediately moaned at the tent and instinctively reached for it before he stopped you. "My lady, you're first. I've wanted to do this for as long as I can remember."

You nodded understandingly and he sat himself on the floor in front of you and pulled your sweats off you completely; taking your underwear with and leaving you exposed to the colder air. You huffed a heavy sigh as he took your knees over his shoulders and wasted no time at eating you out.

You groaned as he suctioned his lips to your clit and applied a blissful amount of pleasure. Your body became a liquid as you slumped further into him and pressed your cunt into his face.

He snickered as he watched your immediate response. After edging you some he released your bud to plunge his tongue into your vagina and slurped all of the fluids, "God, if this is how you react just to my mouth, I can't imagine how you'll take my fingers or my cock.". You felt yourself clench over his needy tongue as he nudged his nose into your clit. You couldn't stop staring at the love of your life as he continued bringing you more pleasure than you'd felt with anyone else.

He pulled back to watch you writhe in obvious superb ecstasy. You began whimpering at the lack of pressure, "Can't use your words already, babe? That won't look very good when the tow truck shows up." Before you could even form a quippy response, he plunged two fingers into your hold, causing a yelp to escape.

Happy with your state, he returned his tongue to your swollen clit as your orgasm began building. You looked away at something to grab for stability as you felt like you were going to float away if he continued.

He reached out for one hand and clasped them together to keep you grounded through your emotions. The other found purchase on his hair as you gripped onto both for dear life.

Your whining got higher pitched and you tried to say his name to let him know you were almost over the peak. But all he could hear was "H-H-haaaa" as you tried screaming his name through your orgasm. He kept fingering you through your flustered state to the point of overstimulation and you started shaking over his digits.

Once he was satisfied with your actions, he swapped the hole his fingers had been in for his mouth and groaned, "Get on my lap, sweetie."

He sat down in the opposite end of the back seat and took his boxer briefs off to free his monster erection from its confines. You crawled on all four to him and took a quick slurp of his precum before straddling him. He sighed at the sight and grabbed both of your ass cheeks with full force as you help yourself over him.

Han held himself up and guided you slowly onto him, but you took him fully without a second thought. He hissed at the sudden tightness and warmth of your walls. While you stayed there for a second, ho grabbed your face and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, "I've always known you would feel perfect around me. But I didn't know exactly what that felt like until now. You are perfection. I love you so much, y/n"

"I love you, Hannie." You continued to passionately make out and express your love through actions when you were ready to start riding him. You kept a slow face, trying to take in the feeling of him rubbing all of you. The shape was exquisite and you were sure you had died and gone to heaven. How could he be this perfect??

You pulled his shirt up while you continued consuming and gnawing at his lips and felt his firm chest in your small hands. You reached for his nipples and tweaked both at once. He whined into your mouth and started grinding up into you.

His hands had wandered, too. One playing with your braless breast, which he felt was on purpose for him, and the other finding your sore button to help you through another orgasm.

You two kept this up for who knows how long, but you couldn't care becasue this was the only place you wanted to be. The sun had started rising and painted you both in a beautiful array of oranges and pinks as you both reached your climax. "In me... please." you whined, and he started thrusting into you at an inhuman speed and released his seed where you had asked for it.

As you both sat there panting, you realized the warmth from the sheen of sweat coating both of your forms and cracked the windows.

You two softly exchanged more kisses while you came down. Han couldn't believe how fucking lucky he was, but his brain and his words had to ruin the beautiful moment, "If this is how you take me to the airport, I'm never riding with the staff ever again."

You rolled your eyes and let out a heaving chuckle at the love of your life and simple stated, "Love you, too, Han."

@lyramundana @sweetracha @2chopsticks2eyes @moonlightndaydreams

#stray kids #skz #han jisung #i love him #loml #hannie #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han smut #stray kids jisung #jyp stray kids #stray kids han jisung #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #thats my husband #love of my liiiiiiiiife

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alisonfelixwrites · 29 days

Text

Informed consent: chapter 4

Word count: 14,866

Mia put on her coat and watched as Harry did the same. He faintly waved over at some people and Mia felt guilty instantly. Harry had caught her look though and shook his head, “Don’t even think about apologising.”

Mia felt her cheeks heating a little and then nibbled her lip, “Still. I hope your friends don’t think I’m rude because I didn’t even say hi to them.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry waved it away and Mia decided to drop it. Flipping her hair out of the neckline of the blazer she borrowed from Hazel, she stepped up to their table.

Renan and Lynn shot her a knowing, teasing look after having seen Mia at the bar with Harry, but Mia just shot them a small smile and diverted her attention to Hazel, “I’m gonna go home.” She announced softly.

Hazel grinned, “Okay.”

“Hi.” Harry behind her greeted her friends in a low voice, and they all shot him blinding smiles which made Mia blush harder. Mia cleared her throat, “H-Harry’s going to walk me home.” She informed, not missing the way Hazel’s smile widened even more at the information, “Okay.”

“Bye.” Mia breathed before she turned around. Harry chuckled from behind her but followed along. The bell to the bar dinged as they opened up the door, and the rain was instantly sensible on their heads. “Oh.” Mia mumbled, wrapping the blazer a little tighter around her as Harry glanced up at the sky, “Shit, ‘s a rough night.”

Mia felt guilty all over again but tried hard to keep her mouth shut and not apologise all the time. Harry rubbed his palms together and shot her a smile, “Which way?”

She inhaled a breath and nudged her head towards the opposite street, “That way.”

They braved the rain together, hardly able to get a few words in as it clattered against the sidewalk so harshly. They tried a few times, constantly having to yell ‘what?!’ to the other person until they laughed it off and continued walking. Mia exhaled in relief when her building came into view and she pulled her key out of her purse.

Harry hurried under the overhang, running his hand through his wet hair before shaking it out a little. Mia shuddered in her wet coat, hair matting against the back of the leather as she turned around and shot Harry a small smile, “Thank you for walking me home.”

A wet droplet hung from the tip of his nose as he smiled back, “No problem. Wanted you to get home safe.”

Her heart warmed at his sentiment. Never in a million years did she dare to imagine that the man who made her cry earlier this week would be the one to make her feel so giddy only days later. She bit her lip to hide her smile and cleared her throat, “Do you want to come up for some hot tea? Oh, and I could give you that book from Maya Angelou.”

Harry blinked a few times and eventually nodded, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Alright.” Mia beamed before turning around and letting them into the building. Their footsteps left wet puddles in the hallways as Mia brought them up to the second floor and then stopped in front of one of the doors, opening it up with another key.

The apartment was still a bit chaotic from having people over earlier and Mia mumbled an apology, “Sorry it’s so messy, we haven’t cleaned yet and it’s been a chaotic week.”

“Hey, I live with two other guys. Don’t worry about it.” Harry joked, stepping inside carefully. The scent of cinnamon mixed with vanilla entered his nose, and he suspected some lovely candle was the culprit for the heavenly scent that he would now forever associate with Mia. He glanced over his shoulder to see her shrugging off the wet coat, running her fingers through her hair before she bent down to unzip her boots.

His eyes lingered on the curve of her ass in the flared jeans and he admired her body for a second before looking away, realising how inappropriate it was. He was here to warm up and get the book, and that was it.

Mia put on some fluffy slippers that Harry found completely adorable before she turned around to face him, “You can take off your coat, you must be freezing.” She walked up to him, bringing up her hands. His eyes widened at the thought she might take it upon herself to unzip it, but it seemed like Mia realised all of a sudden what she was about to do – and stopped.

She took a step back with pink cheeks and cleared her throat, “Y-You can hang it up on the coat rack next to mine. Do you want tea?”

Harry tried to keep the hammering of his chest under control, “Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” She piped up, hurrying into the kitchen while muttering under her breath how stupid she was and how much of a fool she was making of herself. Mia busied herself with putting on the kettle as Harry took a curious look around the apartment. He stared at some of the pictures on the wall and Mia noticed him, “Those are all Hazel’s.”

Harry looked at the pictures of Hazel, smiling along with her friends who he recognized from the bar earlier. The boy with the blue hair had pink hair in one of the shots. Harry nodded at Mia’s words and continued walking along.

Mia had trouble keeping her breathing under control with a boy like him walking around her apartment. It dawned on her how alone they were in here and how silent it was. She fiddled with some tea bags, “What flavour do you want?”

Harry turned to face her, “I quite liked what you gave me today during therapy. D’you have any more of that?”

Mia’s lips curled up into a smile as she bashfully nodded, “Y-Yeah.” She wasn’t sure why she liked it so much that Harry enjoyed her recommendations, even if it was for something as silly as tea.

She poured two cups of the hot, steaming water and dropped tea bags in it before padding over the couch, making sure she didn’t slip or spill anything. With her lip between her teeth, she put them down on the coffee table and then sat down on the couch, Harry joining her soon after.

There was a decent distance between them, and she fiddled with her wet hair again before reaching for her clip which was on the table, occupying her hands as they wrapped around her locks and she twisted it into an updo to keep the dripping ends off of her back.

She glanced to her side to find Harry softly smiling at her and she blushed while looking down, “Do you want something to eat? Are you hungry?”

“No, ‘m good. Thanks for the offer, Mia.” Harry responded before they fell into a comfortable silence. There were a few dim lights on around the room and the overall vibe was cosy.

“Are you warm enough? Do you need an extra sweater? I-I think they’d all be a bit small on you but still – if your clothes are wet you should take them off before you get sick. I would feel horrible if you got a fever because of this.” Mia turned to rambling to ease her anxiety and Harry looked at her with playful eyes, “I should take them off, hm? What’re you suggesting here, Mia?”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as a deep red flush rose up her neck, “Oh my god, I-I’m n-“

“Mia.” Harry threw his head back in a laugh while shaking his head, “Relax, ‘m only messing with you. It’s alright, my clothes aren’t wet and I’m definitely warm enough.”

“Oh.” She blushed furiously, embarrassment taking over that she never really got his sarcastic jokes when he made them, and she fiddled with her thumbs when she felt a little silly for always taking everything so seriously.

“I-I’m quickly going to put something else on, I’m a little cold.” She spoke in a small voice, slightly desperate to get away from him for just a second so she could recompose herself. She really hadn’t thought it through when asking him up to the flat with her. Was he expecting something? Was she unwillingly flirting again like Tyler thought she had? Was she coming across as desperate?

She sighed and palmed her face, standing in front of her closet as she quickly unbuttoned the floral top she spent so long picking out hours prior. She threw it to the floor in frustration, standing in her light pink bra before yanking on an oversized jumper. The look wasn’t as cute as the previous top had been, but at least she was warm and cosy and could hide in her clothes a little when Harry decided to make a comment that would turn her cheeks as pink as the jumper she chose.

Taking a breather, Mia decided to sit down on the edge of her bed for just a moment. Her mind was spinning and she was so nervous to be alone with him, so nervous to blurt out something stupid that would turn him off. She didn’t know what signals he was giving off or how to even read them. She thought one thing – that he liked her a little – but maybe he meant something completely different.

A slight knock on her door made her jump up when her spiralling thoughts were interrupted.

“Mia? Can I come in?” Harry’s voice sounded muffled behind the door and Mia pressed her lips together before readjusting the clip in her hair and getting up. Her bunny slippers carried her to the door that she carefully opened.

Harry was dimly lit up by the hallway lights behind him and he leaned against the doorpost casually while looking down at her, “Everything alright? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mia exhaled a trembling breath, “Y-You didn’t?”

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at her unsurely, contemplating what the correct answer was. He knew his little joke from earlier had made her shy and embarrassed even if he hadn’t meant for her to feel like that at all. But Harry was nervous, sitting on the couch with Mia all alone in her apartment after walking her home. A week ago, he didn’t even know this girl and now she occupied every minute of his day.

He bit his lip and then just decided to be honest, “Honestly? I did. But it came out wrong, and I’m sorry if it was too much.”

He wasn’t sure how Mia was going to take it, but she appreciated his honesty and let out a small breath, offering him a small smile, “Okay.”

Harry relaxed too, smiling back before peaking into the space behind her, “Is this your room?”

“Wh- Oh. Yeah.” Mia responded, turning around too, “It’s really messy right now, they all helped me pick out an outfit earlier.” She explained, hurrying through the room to pick up some pieces of clothing scattered around and shove them into the half-open closet. She tidied up at a speed Harry had never really seen before, flying through the space with her arms full before she flicked on the sheet so it covered more of her mattress.

Harry stared around the room, nodding to himself, “Wow. It’s… about four times the size of my room.” He chuckled. Mia smiled and bit her lip, “Really? Yeah, we’re quite blessed with this apartment, we love it here. Hazel’s room is a little bigger than mine.”

Harry’s eyes glanced over the double bed with the white sheets, and overall the room was quite blank and not really decorated. Her desk was the most cluttered area of the entire room, books and books with school material littering the white desk as notes were scattered around. Harry assumed it was Mia’s most used place in the apartment.

He went to look back at Mia, who had her back to him as she flicked her eyes over her bookcase before putting her finger on the spine of one and pulling it out, “Here you go.” She turned around, offering Harry the book they had spoken about earlier today.

Why the caged bird sings.

Harry grinned as he nodded, “This is really cool. Thank you, Mia, for letting me borrow it.”

“That’s alright.” She smiled back, “I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.”

His smile fell a little and Harry swallowed while looking down at his shoes, “I-I want to apologise again for Tuesday. I was so rude to you and yet you gave me another chance. And I really appreciate that.” He honestly admitted. The words he had spewed at her were fresh in Mia’s brain, but getting to know Harry a little bit better – she knew he wasn’t truly like that.

It had been his anger and frustration towards the school and the system that he had worked out on her. It wasn’t the right way to talk to someone but he apologised and realised that, so she forgave him for his little outburst.

“It’s okay.” She murmured, “I forgive you. Really.”

Harry’s face lit up as he sighed, shoulders dropping a little. His gaze felt heavy and Mia shuffled a little as she felt herself growing smaller and more self-conscious. Her hands fumbled with the sleeves of her jumper and Harry chuckled under his breath, “You’re so cool.”

Her brows raised on instinct, “Me?”

“Yeah, silly. You.” Harry smiled, not stopping himself before he took a step forward. Mia held her breath, inhaling the scent of perfume lingering around Harry so subtly yet perfectly fitting him. She adored it immediately and was addicted in an instant. She couldn’t blink, not when Harry leaned down.

Mia didn’t dare looking up, didn’t dare tilting her head back. She was excited, but also very scared that he was going to try and maybe kiss her. She wasn’t ready, but luckily for her, Harry sensed that. He wanted to show his gratitude, and he wanted to show that he truly did feel an interest towards her, but he wanted to respect her boundaries after she had already unsuccessfully rejected someone tonight who didn’t get the hint.

So he settled on a brush of his lips against her cheekbone. He could feel the soft inhale of a gasp the moment his lips made contact with her soft skin, and he puckered his lips gently to press a kiss right to the high of her cheek, lingering just for a moment before he pulled back with a little smack.

Her face was priceless, and if Harry focussed on it too much, he was sure he’d start laughing. So he just settled on a little chuckle at the pure shock written in her eyes and then trailed his fingers down her arm, “Come on, our tea’s getting cold.”

He casually turned around and walked back into the living room, leaving Mia completely flustered and breathless. She looked at his back, and even if she didn’t see his face, she knew he was smirking. He had to be. Harry was kind, but he still took pleasure in seeing her suffer just a little bit. And this was one of those moments, where he knew exactly what he was doing – driving her absolutely crazy – but enjoyed it at the same time.

Mia needed a second before she could follow him out into the living room again, seeing Harry lazily on the couch like he had been in this space his entire life. His cup of tea was on his lap, comfortably resting in one of his large palms as Mia slid into the couch next to him.

“So… exposure therapy on Tuesday, hm?” Harry broke the silence. Mia took a breath and forced herself to nod, “Mhm.”

“Who invented that?”

She relaxed on the couch a little while racking her brain, “Pavlov, I think.”

Harry frowned at her, “Isn’t that the guy with the dog?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, “He invented conditioning in the early 1900s.”

“So…” Harry drew out, “do you expect me to start drooling when I walk into the library?”

Mia giggled under her breath, a sound Harry realised he found extremely pleasant and wanted to hear so much more of. Mia bit her lip to hide her smile as she shook her head, “I hope not.”

“Isn’t it usually used for phobias? Like people who fear spiders have to hold one or something?”

“It is.” Mia nodded, “Look at you, knowing so much about psychology.” She slightly teased, blushing a little at how comfortable she felt and Harry noticed it too, staring at her with a pleased glimmer in his eyes, “D’you think I missed my calling, Dr. Phil?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“What kind of a therapist would I be, then? Enlighten me.”

Mia smiled wide and licked her bottom lip, “Let me think… Probably a liberal one.”

“Very true.” Harry nodded.

Mia tilted her head to the side, “But do you really agree always with liberal ethics? I know in philosophy, natural liberal ethics were actually quite Christian,” Mia spoke, “most of the intercourse was forbidden unless it was meant for procreation. Like… fetishism was seen as immoral because it was one-sided, just one person fantasising about another. Whereas homosexuality wasn’t because it was mutual.”

“It’s so androcentric like that.” Harry muttered, completely in awe of how smart Mia was and how much he enjoyed talking to her about stuff like this, “Wasn’t it Gundorf who broadened that? Made it more secular? But even then, monogamy was the only way to go.”

Mia shifted on her seat a little, “You’re not monogamous?”

“If I’m in a relationship, sure.” Harry nodded firmly and Mia felt slight relief taking over her body for some reason as she nodded along. Harry cleared his throat, “Yeah, I don’t really like to share. I think sex in a relationship is really between you and your partner. Of course when you’re single, you don’t really have to stay monogamous. But it’s different.”

“How so?” Mia questioned softly. Harry avoided her gaze, suddenly feeling a little nervous to talk about this kind of stuff, stuff that made him a little vulnerable, “Well… I think sex is supposed to be fun and free, but I think it’d be more fun and free with someone I really know? And trust? I think it’s great if you’re with someone for a long time and you can keep exploring one another, try new things… those are things you don’t really get to do if it’s just one time.”

Mia stared at him intently, taking in his words as she listened to every syllable rolling off his lips. Once again, she had to really focus on what he was saying and not on the way his pink lips moved when he talked. If she focussed too much on that, every noise just got drowned out and she forgot how to blink.

“How about you?” Harry asked after a soft clearing of his throat, clasping his hands together as he happily shifted the attention away from himself. Mia got pulled from her train of thought and raised her brows, “Me?”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, “you. Are you monogamous?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer his question, but to be honest – she never really saw herself as someone with many sexual experiences. She wouldn’t mind being with just one person all her life, if he loved her right and they were happy. And they had fun. Mia had no idea what she liked or disliked or how to do any of that, so if it was someone who could pull her through and make her feel good about herself… she’d be sold.

Sexy was something Mia had never felt before. She didn’t know what it was like. So maybe that was something she was looking for, someone who made her feel sexy, wanted and treasured.

“Yes.” She eventually nodded. Harry softly smiled and nodded before they fell into a short silence.

Mia took a long sip of tea before taking a breath, “But yes, it was Gundorf who broadened it, you’re right.” She took the topic back to what it was before. “He was also the one starting up the topic of consent.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “True. But then there was the criticism about consent and spontaneity. That the two don’t match. Which I don’t agree with. You can be spontaneous with someone and still have it be consensual. I think it’s one of the most attractive things to know that the other person really agrees and wants you.”

Mia softly smiled and nodded, “I think that’s a nice way to look at it.”

It was almost comical really, how comfortable the topic of sex and intercourse got to her when speaking about in a more theoretical way.

“Honestly, the Christian view on sex is so outdated.” Harry mused, “Did you know that at one point, homosexual love was considered elite? Because men were superior, so nothing could be more superior than two men.”

Mia raised her brows, “Really? Then why did it become such a taboo at one point?”

“Don’t know.” Harry shrugged, “Society changes, it still does. All the time. And I think it’s good that it does, that the views on sex have become much broader than they used to be.” He spoke, “Procreation, pfft.” He huffed under his breath and Mia smiled in amusement at his little frustration.

“Such a biological approach, right?” He continued, “I mean, if sex was only meant for procreation, why do women have a clit?”

Mia choked on her sip of tea, sputtering out coughs as she covered her mouth with one hand to catch her breath, “Jesus Christ, Harry.” She scolded with red cheeks, covering her face to hide from him with the jumper pawing her hands once she was through her coughing fit. He smirked at her reaction as she made herself into a little ball on the couch, bringing her legs up.

She had an amused smile on her lips though when pulling back, and exhaled a sigh while shaking her head.

“What?” Harry chuckled and she shrugged while smiling, “Nothing. You just… you’re so blunt.”

“I speak my mind.” He admitted and she hummed, “Very unapologetic.”

Harry leaned his head against the back of the couch, covered by a chequered blanket, “Is that Dr. Phil speaking or just you?”

Mia fought her giggle, “Just me.”

“I think I prefer just you over therapist Mia.” Harry murmured. Mia’s face fell a little and she glanced down before nodding, “Me too.”

Harry pressed his lips together as he drew a breath, “Do you like it? Psychology?”

“Yes.” Her answer was immediate and rehearsed and Harry turned his body towards her a little more, his tea sloshing around the cup, “Do you really?”

Mia blinked, unsure if anyone had ever asked her that question twice, and her composure faltered, “I don’t know.” She mumbled, “I’ve just started, so it’s a little hard to tell.”

“Is it really?” Harry frowned, “I mean, you’re giving these therapy sessions. Do you like that?”

“I don’t know.” Mia spoke again and Harry sighed out in thought, “Was there ever anything else you wanted to do?”

Mia smiled softly and nodded, “I did. I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon. It’s not very realistic, I could never do that,” She chuckled while shrugging, “but it was sort of a dream.” Mia swallowed, “I had a bit of a reality check when starting uni, realising they cut me a lot of slack in high school and… well, I’m not that great of a student.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked and Mia shrugged, avoiding his eyes, “My grades aren’t all that amazing. I-I’m trying a lot, to lift them. I study so much.” Mia sighed, tiredly resting her head. Harry frowned as he took her in, seeing how tired she actually was. Exhausted. She masked it easily with her smile and her big eyes, but Mia was tired.

“Have you ever considered doing something else?” Harry proposed and Mia flicked her eyes up to see him, “Like what?”

He chuckled, “I don’t know. There’s lots of things that you can do. What do you want to do? What seems realistic? What’s interesting to you?”

Mia opened her mouth but nothing came out, unsure of how to answer Harry’s array of questions. Once again, it was something no one had really asked her before he did. Harry noticed her hesitance, “How did you choose psychology? What made you pick it?”

He was curious about her reasons since he didn’t feel a passion radiating from her. She almost knew more about philosophy, even agreeing with him on certain points where he’d had heated discussions about with fellow psychologists. If this was really where she was at, he could imagine her not enjoying lots of her classes if she didn’t even agree with her professors.

Mia thought about his question. What made her pick psychology? The thing was that she didn’t, her parents did. She had never truly felt a passion towards it, but forced herself to like it because it’s what they wanted for her and they found it an appropriate field.

After talking to both Hazel and Harry quite a bit, she realised how interesting philosophy was, and she sometimes craved following those lessons more than her own. She couldn’t imagine the disgust on her parent’s faces though if she’d ever suggest something like that. Philosophy was a field without prospects, according to them.

“I-I didn’t really pick it.” Mia carefully mumbled, staring down at her fingers. Harry didn’t say anything, giving her the time to think about her words and Mia took a breath, “My parents… they thought it’d be something good for me.”

She didn’t exactly dare looking at Harry. Saying the words made it sound so stupid, and she wondered if he thought she was weak when speaking them. Harry could only really stare at her with a shocked expression. He had heard of many parents nudging their children in certain directions. Obviously, parents knew their children. If someone wanted to do a field that was way beyond their level, parents could give advice. But that’s what they were supposed to do; give advice. Not choose in their place.

Not like they had done for Mia. Harry really tried to give them a fair shot, but they had already fucked up tremendously in his book. He wondered how happy she’d be if she studied something she enjoyed and was passionate about. How much more lively she’d be, how much more bright than she already was.

“They just… decided?” Harry carefully asked and Mia nodded quickly, “Yeah. They did.”

He huffed out in disbelief, “Mia… they can’t just do that. Aren’t they supposed to let you try and figure it out? Not many people know instantly what they wanna be when they’re older, or what they want to study. It’s why so many people fail their first year. And it’s not a crime to fail or to choose something else, to find something that’s better for you. The system is designed for you to have room for failure. Who knows what they want for the rest of their lives at eighteen? No one.”

The word failing made Mia near tremble, but she frowned at Harry’s words. She had never thought of it that way. “I-I thought they just wanted the best for me.” She mumbled, “That they knew me best.”

“They probably do want the best for you.” Harry nodded, “But I don’t think they know you best, I think you know you best. Like I said, nothing wrong with wiggle room to figure things out.”

They fell into a silence, Mia thinking about Harry’s words intently as he watched her get lost in thought. He scooted a little closer on the couch, “Do they do that a lot? Decide things for you?”

Mia shamefully looked down, one big thing coming to mind that maybe she felt like Harry should know about. He saw the reactions he gave and frowned a little deeper, “Mia?”

She sighed and lifted her head, “They’ve kind of decided who I’m going to end up with.”

Harry blinked a few times, feeling like the air got punched out of his lungs. Did he really develop a crush on someone he had no chance with? Who was taken? He had never even considered the fact she might be dating someone else or – god forbid – have a boyfriend back home.

“W-What do you mean?” He asked and Mia sighed again, pressing her lips together, “They want me to end up with Daniel. He’s my age, the son of a family friend and business partner of my dad.”

Harry exhaled a shaky breath, “Daniel…”

“Yeah.” Mia murmured, “I-I’ve met him a few times. He’s – uh… nice.” She voiced carefully. She didn’t actually know him all that well and the thought of him made her scrunch her nose up.

Harry frowned deeper, unsure of what Mia was trying to say as he swallowed thickly, “You like him?”

“Sure.” She shrugged before catching the pained look in Harry’s eyes and realising what she said. She gasped, “Oh – god, no. Well, n-not like that. I don’t like like him.” She quickly added. Harry lifted his eyes, “You don’t?”

“No.” Mia quickly shook her head, “I don’t really know him. He seems really… serious. I don’t know.”

Harry nodded slowly, processing the amount of information he had received already. “And what is something you’re looking for then?”

Mia took a breath as she pondered his question and eventually shrugged, “I-I think it’s nice when you can laugh with someone. I’m not – uh…” She searched for words, “naturally the most funny person. But I think it’s nice when you can smile with someone. I like to smile.

Harry’s lips involuntarily curled up at her words. He couldn’t get over how adorable and cute she was and she really just wanted to scoop her up and wrap his arms around him. He dug his hand into the couch cushion instead, leaning his head to the side, “Hmm. You’re really pretty when you smile.”

“Harry.” She blushed bashfully, hiding her smile by biting her lip and casting her eyes down, playing with her fingers. He smirked a little at her shy reaction and held his breath when reaching a hand out. Mia’s eyes widened when she saw the hand slowly approaching, and she lifted her eyes in surprise.

Harry’s touch was tender, pads of his fingertips brushing over the skin of her face. He traced her eyebrow, the shape of her nose and her cupid’s bow, making her stare at him in a trance. Mia was leaning forward before she realised it, completely hunched over towards Harry as if his magic hand was coaxing her into his space.

“What happens when you end up liking someone else?” Harry whispered, coming up with the same question Hazel did earlier. Mia just stared at him, her ears filled with stardust to the point she hadn’t even heard his voice. She gasped in a soft breath when his thumb gently tapped her bottom lip before dragging down to her chin, tilting her head up ever so softly, “Hm?”

“W-What?” She croaked out. Harry smiled, butterflies erupting through his entire body as he stared at her with hearts in his eyes, “I asked what happens when you end up liking someone else.”

“I don’t know.” Mia whispered back, “I like you.”

She didn’t realise what she had said until she saw the raise of Harry’s brows and the way his smile got wider, “Yeah?”

“Oh.” Mia straightened up, snapped out of her trance in a second as she looked at him with horror in her eyes, “Oh god.” She groaned to herself, crawling away on the couch to the far end, only making Harry laugh louder at her behaviour when she hid from him at her sudden confession.

It wasn’t fair, really. It was like he had hypnotised her and she had no control over her words, brain and body. Especially not her body. The dull throb between her legs felt slightly uncomfortable and Mia clenched her thighs together at the unfamiliar feeling.

His green eyes had coaxed that secret truth from between her lips, and Harry felt his heart fluttering as she shied away from him after the confession. He followed her body to the other end of the couch, hesitating slightly before placing both hands on her drawn up knees to get her attention.

“Mia.” He murmured with a grin, breathing out a chuckle when she winced and he brought one hand up to pry her hands away from her face. She dropped them and revealed her pink skin as she glanced up at him through her lashes, “Sorry.”

He still had both hands on her knees, leaning in a little bit until he popped his chin up on one, staring at her, “What’re you sorry for?”

She nibbled her lip nervously and shrugged, nearly unable to look him in the eye. She felt utterly stupid and childish, and she wondered if Harry did the same. She wanted to be bubbly and confident and sexy and adventurous, the type of girl who’d have a spontaneous escapade in a library with a fellow student with the risk of getting caught – but she just wasn’t.

And she couldn’t help but wonder if she was even remotely Harry’s type.

Harry could see the wheels in her head spinning and after a little more squirming from her, he decided to put her out of her misery. He licked his bottom lip, nerves coursing through his veins, “I like you too.”

Mia felt like she’d sleep all through tomorrow from how intense this night had been. She was exhausted, but her heart was hammering as she blinked at Harry, lazily leaning on her knees and taking in her shocked reaction. His smile grew with seconds as the flush rose up her neck and she stupidly giggled, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Harry laughed a little before shaking his head, “I’d like to take you out.” The tea was long forgotten when Harry asked her the question Mia had been fantasising about. He was being a perfect gentleman about it too and she sucked in a short breath, “I’m – okay. Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Harry chuckled and she eagerly nodded, “Yeah. B-But we’re still doing the sessions?”

“True.” Harry mumbled, “Maybe after the sessions are over then. Gives us plenty of time to get to know one another. Who knows, you might find out something about me that sets you off.” Harry joked but his words held truth. He was terrified after spilling his feelings that had never come so early for someone ever before.

He’d only had a handful of conversations with Mia, but it was just something he felt. He felt drawn to her, attracted. And not just because she was gorgeous to look at, but the way she carried herself. She was interesting, and she was smarter than most people he had ever met. Their little discussions about philosophy energised him so much, even making the entire subject more of interest to him.

Like he couldn’t wait to read about the stuff she spoke about to learn more about her point of view and broaden his own horizons. Harry felt like he wanted to know everything about her, from the way she felt to the way he thought.

Shortly after both making their confessions, Harry decided to leave Mia alone so she could sleep. Her lids had become droopy and even though he secretly hoped she’d invite him to stay the night just so he could hold her warm body to his – she didn’t. Part of him knew she wouldn’t, it would all be way too quick and what he wanted with her could wait. It was special, he wanted to take his time and not rush into the physical aspect – which was the mistake he usually made – and just give her time and space to be comfortable around him.

With the book tucked under his arm, he roamed the wet streets of the campus until walking up into his student house. The lights were still on and he walked in to see Liam and Niall eating some leftover pizza at the table. They looked like they just got home from the bar, their brows up when they saw Harry walking in.

“Hey. There you are.” Niall smirked while Harry couldn’t wipe the broad smile off of his lips. He shrugged off his wet coat and took off his beanie, not feeling cold at all after the kiss he left on Mia’s cheek at her door, leaving her with a giddy smile and glimmering eyes before he walked two floors down to exit her building.

“Yeah.” Harry chuckled, kicking off his shoes and reaching for a piece of pizza.

Liam narrowed his eyes, “You really only look this happy when you’ve gotten laid.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Not true.”

“Niall,” Liam spoke, diverting his attention to their third roommate.

Niall popped his chin up on his hands to stare at Liam intently, “Yes, my darling.”

“Twat.” Liam chuckled before clearing his throat, “Tell me, have you ever seen young Harold this smiley?”

Harry rolled his eyes again while grabbing some cold water from the fridge. He felt like he needed to cool down. Just being in Mia’s presence set his skin on fire for some reason, and it didn’t feel like any amount of cold rain could dose it. It was inside of him. He quickly gulped down some of the cold liquid, trying to forget what she smelled like when he was so close to him.

Her shampoo was something floral, matching her just perfectly for some reason. Like a delicate flower, she was so… soft and pretty. His entire thought process revolved around Mia and he could safely say he had never felt a crush like this before.

“I have not.” Niall spoke in a fake posh accent, “What should we make of this, sir Liam?”

“That our young Harold has a big fat crush on some girl way out of his league.” Liam joked and Harry swiftly turned around with a glare, “Hey!”

Liam cackled out while Niall joined him, teasing their friend to no end as Harry just huffed under his breath. Liam caught his breath and leaned his elbows on the table, “So what happened then? Why didn’t you introduce her to us?”

“Seriously?” Harry raised his brows before nudging his chin in their directions, “Because of this, you idiots. You’d scare her away.”

“Ah, come on,” Niall retorted, “we’re perfectly nice! She’d love us.”

Harry shrugged, not really having any more answer to their question. He supposed he liked being in this little bubble with her. He knew what all his friends were going to think. They’d like her, for sure, but they’d be wary because she was nothing like the girls he usually went for and he didn’t want his mates to scare her off by their inappropriate behaviour.

He wanted to get to know Mia on his own a little at first. After all, he hadn’t even known her a full week yet his body turned to liquid whenever she smiled at him.

“Which one was she again?” He heard Niall whispering to Liam, who whispered back, “The brunette with the flower top on.”

Harry turned around in time to see Niall nodding in recognition and he then flicked his eyes to Harry, “She must’ve been special, you didn’t even say goodbye to your best friends.” He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic.” Harry rolled his eyes and Niall arched up an eyebrow, “Do you talk to her like that?”

“What?” Harry chuckled before shaking his head, knowing for sure he’d never talk to Mia like that. He just turned into some mushy sap whenever she was around him.

All throughout the weekend, Harry found himself counting down the minutes until Tuesday. He read her book the entire time, paying special attention to the highlighted passages where some had exclamation points next to it or were crookedly underlined in pencil. For someone that neat, the book was chaotic. Harry never thought Mia would be the one to highlight in a book without a liner, or that she’d use permanent ink to write something down.

He found himself admiring even the way she wrote.

They texted back and forth in the days before their therapy session, both of their friends noticing immediately how the other was so happy and giddy.

Mia spilled the entire thing to Hazel the moment they both woke up on Saturday, while Harry kept more to himself. He wasn’t that much of an open book overall, had always learned to kind of keep his thoughts to himself and not take up too much space.

So when Mia had finished her classes on Tuesday, she had a bounce in her step when hurrying over into the North building. She and Harry decided to meet there after her first session and then head to the library together. All the while the girl was speaking to Mia – the girl who had to come in before Harry – she found that she was hardly listening.

She felt bad, letting her emotions get in the way of being a decent therapist, but she had a feeling the girl didn’t really mind that she was basically talking to a wall.

Mia didn’t even care that she hadn’t understood a single thing of her final class of the day – statistical methods for psychological research – and made a mental note to find tutoring sessions for that one too. She had to remember that they had an assignment due next week. It was something Mia had slightly forgotten about since her weekend was spent dreaming about Harry.

Literally dreaming.

Friday after going to bed, she couldn’t help but feel cold under the sheets as she had somehow wished she had been spontaneous enough to take the leap and invite him to stay the night. She had felt a little bad, sending him home in weather like that. But Harry didn’t want to overstep and Mia was too shy, so they both went their separate ways.

Only to be reunited once more today.

Harry had to admit he had looked for her on Monday during lunch, scanning the cafeteria all the way – even the trash table – but there had been no sight of his Mia sitting alone for lunch. Louis had pouted next to him, claiming he had been really looking forward to seeing the girl who had Harry’s balls twisted together.

But Mia was nowhere to be seen. When Harry texted her, she said she only had classes in the morning and then a free period, so she went to eat at home and then would come back to study at the library.

The library, where they’d go together today to check out the broken bookcase, all due to Harry.

Mia’s stomach twisted a little when thinking about it, him so intimate with someone else. She liked to think that she was the first one having certain fantasies about him, the first one who got to know him. Because he was the first one getting to know her. But Harry had been had by others, and Mia wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

It was natural of course, she felt. She couldn’t hold it against him that he had a life before meeting her. That he enjoyed that life with whomever he saw fit. It still felt surreal that he had said he liked her out of all people.

She had spoken to Hazel a little more about him in the weekend, yet Hazel really couldn’t give her much information. Harry wasn’t unfriendly to her, but he was just quiet and kind of to himself. She knew of his friends a little more since they were louder and more popular, but Harry was mostly known as their friend.

And the library thing.

Mia eagerly checked her phone to check the hour as she sat in her seat in room two, waiting for him. She already had her coat on and everything packed after having used Harry’s notebook and pen again for her previous session.

A soft knock on the door made her heart jump and Mia got up from the chair, quickly opening it.

She couldn’t help the happy giggle escaping her throat when she saw him on the other end, breathless and pink cheeks from running all the way here.

“Hey.” He chuckled and she smiled wide, “Hi. Ready to go?”

Harry’s face fell as he winced a little, “Do we have to? Can’t we just… stay here and talk?”

Mia pressed her lips together, completely ready to give into Harry’s question and quickly nod, but she did have certain responsibilities with these therapy sessions. Nibbling her lip, she tilted her head to the side and Harry knew she was about to reject his offer, so he just softly pouted.

Mia felt her insides firing up at the sight of his plump bottom lip pouting out. Mia had never before kissed anyone, but she felt a constant urge to just touch Harry’s lips. With her own. Over and over again. It was a strange lust to feel, the idea of wanting to taste someone. She couldn’t explain what it was, why she wanted it so bad, why she dreamed of it and got completely hypnotised by the sight of his lips.

She had been taken back to that moment he touched her lip and stared at her so intently, many times. Usually it woke her up with a gasp as she stifled her moan, completely embarrassed by how hot and bothered she felt with that on her mind.

Harry wore his dark beanie again, just a few tendrils of soft hair sticking out of the fabric.

He exhaled a breath, “Alright, show me the way, Dr. Phil.” He teased her a little with the nickname and Mia chuckled at him, walking outside with him with her bag over her shoulder. Part of her felt slightly nervous walking around campus with him for everyone to see. Not that people paid attention or that they really minded, Mia felt, and they were just walking next to one another, but it felt like a step.

“So what’s really the point of this?” Harry grumbled, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he walked next to Mia on their way to the library, across the campus grounds.

Mia chuckled and shrugged, bundling her scarf a little tighter around her. The wisps escaping her braid tickled her forehead, “I just thought it might be nice to get out of the room for a bit, go see the place where – uh… it happened.”

“It?”

Mia winced under her breath, shaking her head to herself, “Don’t make me say it.” She murmured.

Harry breathed out a playful laugh, gently pressing his palm into her lower back as an affectionate touch that nearly made Mia buckle through her knee as they walked through campus. She smiled along at their changed dynamic and how Harry really had no red flags in her book.

Hazel had explained that to her, the red flags. After explaining her conversation with Tyler, it turned out he had a bunch of them. Randomly walking up to someone in a bar – all confident and stuff – was one of them apparently. Mia felt like Hazel had been extra harsh on Tyler after Mia explained how he made her feel during that short conversation.

Unsafe. Uncomfortable. Small.

So Hazel was angry, cursing him out and using words Mia didn’t feel like repeating. After going through all the usual insults that made Mia’s eyes widen, Hazel turned to silly, self-made insults that quickly made Mia giggle and laugh. Eventually they were both laughing and rolling around the couch.

“Dickbutt!” Hazel had shrieked, making Mia cackle out and clutch her stomach as the pair laughed around. Mia had never imagined she could laugh about a situation like that. It truly only hit her when Harry had left and the butterflies in her tummy had settled a bit. There was an underlying discomfort there, and Mia started wondering for the first time what would’ve happened if Harry hadn’t intervened.

Well, Mia knew what would’ve happened. She would’ve given Tyler her number in an attempt to satisfy him and get him to leave her alone.

It was another thing she talked about to Hazel – really opening up to her this weekend. Mia had padded into Hazel’s room with a small voice, carefully asking what men felt like flirting was. Maybe Tyler picked up some signals Mia didn’t mean to send? Maybe she gave off the wrong idea?

Hazel pulled her into a hug at that and they cuddled in her bed. Hazel was no Harry, but somehow she was even better. Mia felt a very strong connection to her, and she had quickly become her best friend and confidant. It was a nice bonus for having a nice roommate, that they got along so well and it just worked. Neither of them were perfect, but they kept the other’s feelings into account.

Mia couldn’t believe how nice Hazel’s friends had been, and apparently they had all liked her too. Mia beamed at that. The thought that people liked her and didn’t fake their smiles or didn’t have to try too hard to have a conversation with her, warmed her heart. All her life she had been told she wasn’t very sociable and she was a bit of a nerd. Her parents fed into that, near shoving her nose between the books.

Now that it turned out she wasn’t that great of a student either, Mia had been struggling a little with what she was supposed to be good at then.

“We’re here.” Mia smiled once they stood in front of the library building. Harry glanced at it warily and with little enthusiasm while Mia was near bouncing on her feet. She had to admit she really liked the library. It was a very safe space for her and she had spent countless hours studying here already.

Opening up the thick, heavy doors, they were met with a comfortable warmth that made Mia’s insides bubble a little bit. This time she wasn’t here to instantly walk up to her favourite study spot – always a little bouncy and giddy when she noticed no one had taken it yet – but they were here for Harry.

“Hi Myriam.” Mia whispered silently to the lady working the front desk of the library. Myriam was around seventy and had worked here her entire life. She had glasses on her nose and her hair was silver, her lips bright red. Her face lit up when she spotted Mia, “Mia, darling!” She grinned wide before her face fell and she noticed Harry, “Mister Styles.” She greeted.

“Hey.” He mumbled and she shot him a critical look over the rim of her glasses, “Come to destroy something else?”

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance and Mia bit her lip to hide her laugh before she gently tugged on the sleeve of his coat, “Come on.” She whispered.

Harry sighed in little enthusiasm and followed Mia around the library as she took turns and walked them through nooks he had never seen here before. Honestly, Harry had only been in here a handful of times when he had to read something for his classes. He usually studied together with his friends in their own student home or he went to some coffee bar.

Maybe that’s where it went wrong and why he blew his first year, Harry suddenly thought. He watched as Mia’s eyes scanned the racks of books and she comfortably walked around the library, knowing every turn and every section by heart. He mindlessly trailed behind her, not even looking around much but keeping his eyes on her.

They were on the ground floor still, where the regular books were. They passed the young-adult section and the science stuff before bumping into some philosophy books.

Mia smiled wider when she noticed the Maya Angelou book in the case, her finger pulling at the spine to check it out just like Harry had seen her do in her bedroom a few days prior. He leaned against the bookcase as Mia inspected the spotless copy of why the caged bird sings.

“Have you started it?” Mia softly asked and Harry smiled softly before nodding, tucking one hand in the pocket of his jeans as he leaned his head against the bookcase too, staring at her, “I have. Read it all weekend.”

Her eyes grew twice their size and if Harry really focussed, he swore he could see little beating hearts in them. Mia clutched the book to her chest bashfully and bit her lip as she smiled wide and shy, “Y-You did?”

“Yeah.” Harry whispered, “It’s really good. I like seeing the passages you highlighted. I read over them a couple of times because I know they were important to you.”

Mia swooned, also clumsily leaning into the bookcase as she stared up at Harry as if he was the only thing she had ever seen. Her heart was bursting out of its seams at the words he spoke. It was all she ever wanted, for someone to show such a true interest in her and not make fun of her or think she was weird. Harry ran with all the little quirks of her he had seen so far and none seemed to have scared him off yet.

He was so open, and it caused her to be so open too. They stood closely together between the books in a silent library, shielded away from the outside world.

Harry softly cleared his throat, his eyes dancing over Mia’s delicate features, “To be left alone on the tightrope of youthful unknowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision.” He casually quoted. Mia stared at him without blinking, her mouth softly parted and Harry shot her a lopsided smile, “That one stuck with me.”

“W-What else?” She croaked out. Harry hummed softly and brought his hand up, focussing on the way his fingers brushed her temple and Mia’s knees felt weak. She was thankful for the bookcase that she had her shoulder and hip against, and for the book she was tightly clutching between her fingers – desperate to hold onto something. If he kept doing what he was doing and saying what he was saying, she’d for sure break the spine of it in two and Myriam would have her pay for it.

But it was all worth it. It was all worth it as long as Harry continued quoting her favourite book to her in the middle of her favourite place.

“The caged bird sings with a fearful trill,” Harry started in a soft voice, and Mia knew exactly what part of the book he was quoting. Harry took a breath and continued, “of things unknown, but longed for still. And his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom.

“You reminded me of the caged bird a little.” He continued softly whispering. There were no students studying around them, they didn’t have to be quiet, yet they were both whispering and careful of the air around them breaking.

Mia raised her brows, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly when Harry tucked a loose wavy strand of brown hair behind her ear, “Hm.” He continued, “After what you told me on Friday… I mean, I know it’s totally different, but it did make me think of you.”

Mia couldn’t speak. She was mesmerised, hypnotised and everything in between. She realised how badly she wanted to put her hands on him. How badly she wanted to run her fingers up his chest, preferably underneath the layers of clothes he wore. To feel his warmth, his skin, his little imperfections she knew he was bound to have.

He was so imperfectly perfect. And not being able to touch him right now was complete torture. Her hands gripped the poor book harder.

Harry licked his bottom lip and dropped his hand, “I feel like… you feel like you’re too much. And it’s why you let yourself be silenced.” His voice was so soft, raspy and gentle. Mia heard him, she truly did. His words hit her hard and she blinked a couple of times, yet still unable to look away from his perfect, gorgeous green eyes.

He voiced it perfectly, the way she felt. Mia pressed her lips together and swallowed, giving him the shortest, tiniest nod which she wasn’t even sure Harry noticed, but he of course did. She admitted it, confirmed it, that she did. She felt like she was too much. Like she asked too much, spoke too much, took up too much room.

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded to himself, “I feel that about myself too.” He added in a murmur.

Mia’s lips opened again when she heard him. She felt like Harry was also trying his hardest not to break the eye contact, to keep this moment vulnerable as it was, to keep it so strong between them right now.

Mia’s fingers hurt when she released one hand from the book, dropping it to her side before blindly reaching for Harry’s hand. She realised it was the first time she had seen him blush, even if it was just slightly and even if it wasn’t half as bad as how much she was blushing, but she still felt like it was cute.

“D-Do you know what Hazel always says to me?” Mia whispered. Harry leaned into her a little more, his nose inches from hers as he managed to shake his head. Mia took a breath, “She says… you’ll never be too much for someone who can’t get enough of you.”

His fingers felt warm against hers. Long, bony, tattooed and gently grazing her own as the two of them touched. It felt delicate, the brushing of his fingers against hers. Not really holding hands, not tightly grasping at one another, just softly stroking over skin that touched so many things throughout the day, but never something as precious as the other.

Harry wanted to kiss her. More than he’d ever wanted anything before and probably more than he’d ever want anything in his future. He wanted to kiss her right now. He wanted to taste her lips, already knowing she’d taste like cinnamon and forest fruit tea and cherry lip balm and that he’d smell her floral shampoo and that being close to her would be an explosion of warmth and safety and excitement and he’d be done for life.

It was too soon to say he wanted to spend all his remaining days with her. They had only known each other for a week, but she had become so important to him. Harry didn’t think he had ever connected to someone like this.

He hated it when his friends called him out on his grumpiness, but they were right. He was moody, easily annoyed, easily frustrated. Harry wouldn’t say he had anger issues, but he would say he was impatient. But never with Mia. He felt like he could watch her forever, clumsily trying to put on her coat only to realise she put her arm through the wrong sleeve and had to redo the process all over again.

They were young, but he just felt it. That she was his soulmate. And it was scary, but most of all it was exciting. And he wanted to show her what she meant to him and how much he truly liked her.

The only thing was, that he didn’t want to do it here. Not in the library. Not in the place she and him both associated with him sleeping with someone else. Not in the place that brought them together in the first place, where he had committed his sins that led to her.

Mia deserved better than that, she deserved the whole entire world.

So they didn’t kiss. Mia felt a little odd about it. She was too shy to initiate it, but she would’ve thought Harry felt the same way and that he would’ve made the move. She wanted her first to be him, her first everything. She had never felt like this before.

But Harry didn’t kiss her. And even if Mia felt a slight tinge of disappointment in her tummy, she knew there was a very valid possibility that Harry was maybe nervous too. Or that he didn’t want that during their therapy session. Or in this library where he had done it with someone else.

They broke apart after a while, both their hands disappearing back into their own pockets as they started roaming the library more. Mia brought them up to the first floor to show Harry her favourite study spot. It was empty and he smiled when he saw it, immediately visualising her sitting there with her nose between her books. A frown on her forehead, focussed on reading the words letter by letter and taking in all the information.

She’d have her thermos of tea with her and a thick sweater to bundle herself in, braid hanging over her back as she probably had his pink sparkly pen between her lips.

“So then I sit here.” Mia smiled while walking up to her regular chair. She put her hands on the back of it, near the end of the table with her back towards bookcases and in front of her some room and then a window. Harry remembered her talking about that.

He chuckled as she tapped the back of the chair and ran her hand over the wooden structure of it gently. Harry walked up to the window, seeing the rainy campus grounds and even his own student building in the distance. He nodded to himself, “It’s nice. I get why it comforts you.”

Mia walked up next to him with her arms crossed in front of her chest, following his gaze, “It’s quiet.”

“It is.” Harry nodded in a whisper before exhaling a deep breath, “I’ve never looked at it like that.”

Mia nibbled her lip, standing still next to Harry, “How did you look at it then?”

Harry left a little silence. He never thought the library of all places would be the place he felt like he’d open up his heart to Mia. That this was where he’d be his most vulnerable. He swallowed thickly, “It felt deafening.”

The knot in Mia’s stomach tightened. Her hands were clasped together behind her back now as she followed the figure of a student crossing the campus grounds in a hurry to get out of the rain, “You don’t do well with silence?”

“Had too much of it growing up. I know it seems insane that I want to live with two other guys who are so loud and present all the time. But I secretly love it.” Harry spilled it all and Mia pressed her lips together more tightly. She didn’t know what to answer.

Harry didn’t exactly expect an answer either, he continued staring ahead of himself as his feelings bubbled up to the surface. He licked his lips, “I grew up with a disabled brother, did you know?”

Mia finally turned her head to look at Harry. She saw his side profile, eyes still focussed outside. Harry followed a dropping raindrop that fell down the window, all the way until it disappeared in a puddle at the bottom of the windowsill.

“He’s a few years younger than me, Edward.” Harry murmured, “But he required constant care ever since birth. He’s great, and I really do love him. B-But…” His voice died down and he nibbled his lip. Mia continued looking at him, seeing the strange emotions in Harry’s eyes even if he didn’t directly look at her.

There was disappointment, guilt and confusion. Mia drew a breath, “But you grew up without your parents.” She softly finished his sentence. Harry didn’t look at her, swallowing thickly as he kept his eyes locked outside. Mia dropped her arms, turning to face him as she reached for his hand again.

This time it wasn’t a soft brush of fingertips, this time she held his hand. She laced their fingers together firmly, with confidence, with emotions to try and console him even if he had trouble opening up. Harry’s jaw clenched and he exhaled through his nostrils, feeling the tight lump in his throat.

It felt comforting, for Mia to hold his hand like this. So simple, yet meaningful. As his friend.

“Maybe that’s enough for today.” Mia whispered, gently rubbing her thumb into the back of his hand. Harry couldn’t blink, couldn’t look at her if he wanted to refrain from breaking down in the middle of the library.

He had never had much trouble talking about Edward. He didn’t even know why he did right now, what was different. Why it took him so much effort to say the words to Mia.

Harry eventually sniffed and gave Mia’s hand a squeeze back, finally turning to face her. She could see the small tears wetting his waterline – which he blinked away harshly – before letting out a soft chuckle, “Great job today, Dr. Phil.”

Her lip curled up into a small smile and eventually their hands broke apart.

Harry felt warm.

***

“So, Mia, tell me how it’s been going?” Professor Dillon asked while scanning his eyes over the notes she had sent him.

Mia shifted on her seat, fiddling her thumbs together nervously, “I-I think it’s been going okay.”

Professor Dillon cast his eyes up, “No need to be nervous, Mia. This is just a chat to see how you’ve been feeling giving therapy.”

Mia nodded and drew a breath, “It’s definitely been interesting, so far.” She forced out, although it was a slight lie. The longer these sessions went on, the more she wished she had that time to study.

Professor Dillon nodded, “Did you really do some exposure therapy yesterday? With the Styles kid?”

“Yeah.” Mia smiled, “I-I took him to the library.”

He let out a chuckle, “That��s nice, taking initiative to change it up. I like that.”

Mia blushed a little. She hadn’t mentioned anything Harry had told her in the library, in her notes. She just wrote down that she took him to the library to get out of the familiar room number two. That was two days ago, and she had more sessions in a minute.

Mia tried to listen to professor Dillon, she really did, but what she really wanted was to see Harry.

Their texting had turned into calling and late night talking as she pushed away her studying books and laid on her bed, chatting to him about her day and they discussed Maya Angelou and philosophy.

Hazel had noticed how smiley she had been, and Mia had been briefly introduced to some of Harry’s friends through the phone before he locked himself in his room to get away from them.

They didn’t talk much more about Harry’s confession. Mia wanted to give him time to open up about it on his own terms, but she tried to show that she listened to him that day. Not as his therapist, but as his friend and the girl he was getting to know.

“You think you can almost give him a diagnosis?” Professor Dillon and Mia lost her train of thought, blinking up at him, “A diagnosis?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, pushing the notes together to leave them in a neat pile on the desk separating them, “Like make some statements, wrap it up a little bit. Therapists do more than just listen, Mia. They give structure to the other person’s thoughts when they can’t do that themselves. People always have a motive for how they behave and sometimes it’s your job to give that motive a name and confront them a little.”

Mia’s throat felt a little dry when she found herself disagreeing completely with him. Harry’s words rang through her mind, about doing stuff because they wanted to. Without reason, without logical explanation. And maybe that wasn’t for others to understand, and maybe that was okay.

“I really think you should try that today.” Professor Dillon pushed, “he’s coming in later, right?”

Mia nodded slowly, “Yes. In like ten minutes.”

“Good.” He smiled, “You should give it a try. Maybe you’re completely wrong, but that’s okay. He’ll correct you if he needs it. I’m gonna actually follow this one along through the monitors if that’s okay. Observe a little and give you feedback afterwards.”

Her brows raised, “You’re going to watch?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “I do it with all the students, to give them pointers. I’d like to see you try and make a conclusion about his case, though. We’re halfway through his sessions so you should start getting a pretty good grip on this guy’s mind.”

Mia lowered her eyes, feeling almost… yucky doing this to Harry. She didn’t want to. She wanted to enter that room as Mia and talk to him as Mia. As his Mia, the one he liked. She didn’t want to push and confront him, she wanted to give him time. She didn’t feel like Harry needed confronting.

“I mean, I can almost give you on a silver platter what the reason will be.” The professor continued, leaning back in his big leather chair, “It’s almost always the same reason with these kids.”

Mia frowned in confusion and glanced at him, “It is?”

“Mhm.” He nodded before shooting her a brief smile, “Attention.”

Mia disagreed even more, feeling as the crease between her frown deepened while professor Dillon nodded to himself, “You don’t have to teach me about these kids, Mia. I know them through and through.”

She felt herself tensing up and forced him a small tight-lipped smile. They wrapped up the talk and Mia was allowed to leave and head for room two where Harry would be waiting for her.

He was in his usual large grey jumper with the beanie covering his curls. A piece of gum was in his mouth as Harry slowly paced around the room, looking out the window a little as he waited for Mia. His body was bubbling with anxiety that he got to see her again. So far, they had decided to hold off on dating until these sessions were done but with each passing minute he spent with her, he just fell harder.

He wanted to take her out, spoil her, and kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe while running his hands everywhere she’d allow him. God, his hands were itching to just grab her and pull her into him. He craved the feeling of her body, dreaming of how she’d feel, how she’d smell, how she’d taste.

It was driving him completely insane.

So when the door opened and a breathless Mia walked through, Harry couldn’t stop the wide grin from forming on his lips immediately, “H-Hey.” He stuttered. It was almost as if time stood still. Mia wore black skinny jeans and a jumper nearly as big as his. It swallowed her whole and he could see the rolled up sleeves where her fingers just peeked through.

The pink sparkly pen stood out against the dark navy of her clothing and she smiled back at him, “Hi.”

Harry’s smile disappeared a little at her lack of energy, and he immediately tensed up a tiny bit. Mia closed the door behind him and took a short glance at the camera in the corner of the room before she cleared her throat and moved to her seat, “Just so you know, professor Dillon is watching, and listening along.”

A soft chuckle left Harry’s lips, right away understanding why she was a little more distant. He nodded at her words, especially the emphasis on the word listening. Both Mia and Harry knew that this was a great opportunity for him to have her squirm a little. To put her through the wringer, to ask her difficult – probably sexual – questions and mess with her.

But Harry’s heart had grown twice its size since meeting Mia and he didn’t have it in himself anymore to play with her while so much was at stake for her. For him, this was more or less a joke – these therapy sessions that the school forced him to do – but for Mia, she needed the extra credit.

So Harry just nodded and sat down, “Alright. How are you?”

Mia smiled up at him, eyes lingering on the way his jaw flexed with each nibble on the gum, “I-I’m good. You?”

Harry smirked a little and leaned back in the chair, “Great.”

He blamed the nerves for Mia not offering him tea this time, and they pretty soon just started talking about everything. Mia asked him how he had experienced going to the library earlier this week, and Harry came up with some bullshit story about facing that broken bookcase and feeling bad about what he had done.

Mia could hardly hold her laughter, because the both of them knew they didn’t even go see the bookcase. They stayed on the first floor by Mia’s study spot and stared out the window as Harry spilled his childhood trauma on her. And they held hands. Harry felt like that was a very important piece of information to add.

They chattered for at least half an hour, Mia having a much more professional attitude this time. But it also could’ve had something to do with the fact that Harry wasn’t constantly flirting with her or making her blush.

Mia shifted, changing her legs around as she clicked her pen twice, “So – uh… we started this way the first session, and now that we’re about halfway through… I wondered if you’d given any more thought as to why you did what you did?” She questioned.

Harry frowned and thought of it for a moment, remembering they had that discussion the first time they met. He nibbled his lip and shrugged, “Not really. I still think I just did it because I wanted to and felt like it. No underlying motive.” He joked a little and Mia forced him a small smile, but she looked nervous.

Mia clicked her pen again and then drew a breath, “Well – we’re always trying to find a motive.” She spoke with a little bit of instability in his voice, “S-So I was wondering if it’d be alright with you if I tried to voice one.”

“A motive?” Harry raised his brows in surprise and Mia nodded shortly, “Yes.”

He chuckled, “Sure, knock yourself out.”

“Okay.” Mia breathed, biting down on her lip again as she stared at her lap. She took another breath and lifted her eyes to look at me, a certain emotion behind her eyes as she swallowed, “I-I think… uh… I think you wanted to feel seen.”

Harry stiffened slightly in the seat, not moving or saying anything as there was a short silence between the two. Mia gazed up at him and then continued, her fingers nervously clasping together, “I think you wanted to feel seen, and m-maybe that’s why you acted out? Or did something you knew would stir some… reaction.”

Harry felt his frown deepening, his heart rate picking up as he couldn’t really react. Mia slumped in the chair a little as she took another shaky breath, “I think you’re acting out because you never felt seen. B-Before.” She stuttered.

And he snapped. He knew what she was referring to. And the worst part was, that she was right. Harry had never felt seen as a child. Growing up with a disabled brother who required care around the clock, most of his parents’ time and attention went to Edward. Harry was always sort of trailing behind, doing his own thing, growing up very quick to help care for his brother.

They never had much issues with him because he was responsible from a young age, but they also always assumed he was just fine. That there was never anything wrong with him, that Harry never felt bad. Which he did, he just felt like there was no room to show it. So he didn’t.

He never felt seen. And Mia thought he fucked someone in the library as a cry for attention from a childhood trauma.

“Stop.” He murmured, and Mia closed her mouth immediately. Her hands were white from gripping the pen so hard as she blinked at him with sorrow washing through her face, “H-Harry, I’m –“

He cut her off. Not with words, not by saying anything, but by briskly getting up his feet and towering over her. He didn’t look at her, only slightly seeing out of the corner of his eye how she flinched at his sudden movement. He yanked his coat off of the hanger and stormed out, leaving the door opened and leaving Mia behind.

His ears were ringing, his breaths were short and he was angry. Not with her, because he could tell she didn’t exactly want to say those things. But she did, and they were the complete truth. Maybe he did act out, do something scandalous to get attention and for people to recognize him and know him.

Maybe he did. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He never wanted to know or be confronted with that piece of information, that his childhood traumatised him to a certain extent while he was already in his twenties. He hated it.

Mia hated it too. She hated what she had said, to the point it made her sick to her stomach. She stared blankly at Harry’s empty chair and reacted quickly, standing up too. In the distance, she heard doors. One signalling Harry leaving the building, the other signalling the arrival of professor Dillon who hurried into the room.

Mia paced around, the notebook that Harry gave her lost on the table and the pen had rolled off to the floor as she stared at him with horrified eyes. His weren’t shocked or surprised though, he shrugged, “That can happen. Don’t beat yourself up over it. It means you were right.”

It didn’t make her feel any better. And Mia did beat herself up over it. She shook her head sharply, “N-No. I don’t… this isn’t for me.”

“Mia.” He frowned, “You can’t always please everyone. And that’s okay. People run away from the truth, it’s too confronting. He knew you were right and couldn’t handle it, so he ran.”

“But I hurt him.” She squeaked out, knowing full well professor Dillon would never understand her emotional reaction. He must’ve thought she was being so dramatic as he frowned at her and then just shrugged, “Maybe. But that’s part of life, isn’t it? C’mon, your next appointment will be here in fifteen minutes. You did good, by the way, bringing it to him. Maybe a little more confidence, next time. Don’t say ‘I think’ so much.” He advised.

Mia was a little baffled, wondering how he could just leave her in the room as his student when he could tell she was struggling so much. Mia paced around some more, reaching for her phone to try and reach Harry. Most of all, she wanted to get out of here. She wanted to find him, look for him. Mia felt like she had to find him.

He didn’t answer the call.

So she struggled through the next two appointments, trying to listen to what they were saying. She didn’t want to fail this class, she really didn’t. She needed the extra credit and she needed the feedback from professor Dillon, but her thoughts were scattered and all pieces were with Harry.

Where he was, who he was with, what he was thinking. If he could talk to someone. If he hated her. If she had managed to screw this up.

The second the final girl was out of the room, Mia gathered her stuff and practically ran out. She didn’t wait for professor Dillon’s feedback, she didn’t wait for him to criticise or praise her. She had to find Harry. So Mia was on a mission.

She knew he lived on the campus grounds, in one of the student homes. She marched up to the large buildings, trying to figure out if any of them screamed ‘harry’ to her, but unlucky for her they were all red brick buildings in the exact same shape. She sighed, scratching her forehead as a slight drizzle started.

Mia’s eyes were drawn to the library building and then it clicked. Harry said he could see his student home from the library window. She squinted, trying to count the floors and the windows until she figured out there was only one building he could see from the library.

So she hurried up to it, yanking open the door to quickly scan the names on the doorbells. She quickly winced when realising no one wrote a serious name on the bells.

After reading fart, testicle one and testicle two on one of them, she gave up. None of them had Harry’s first or last name on them, so she had no clue. There were about sixty doorbells here.

And then she saw him. A boy she recognized. Her brain brought her back to the night at the bar on Friday when she had sat down with Harry, having a drink. At one point, the entire bar jumped up and turned to face this one guy, who had dropped a billiard ball hard on the wooden floor by mistake and blushed furiously at the sudden attention.

It was him. He was Harry’s friend. They had been playing pool when Mia arrived.

She swallowed her nerves for having to talk to someone unknown and quickly walked up to the guy who was scrolling on his phone. He looked like he was about to leave but waited for the drizzle to end.

“H-Hi.” She stupidly spoke. He lifted his head and raised his brows, “Hey, wh – oh.” His face contorted in realisation before breaking out into a grin, “You’re Mia, right?”

It was her turn to blush as she stared at him before nodding, “I-I am. Yes. Hi.”

“Hi.” He chuckled back, extending his hand, “’M Liam, I live with Harry.”

Mia sighed in relief, “Hello. I really need to find Harry. Is he home?”

“Yeah,” Liam nodded, “he is. Came home like two hours ago.”

Mia nodded, “Okay. C-Can I go see him? God, he must be so angry with me.” She mumbled, more to herself than for Liam to hear, but he did and frowned either way as Mia continued, “I said something horrible.”

“Oh, love.” Liam crooned, shaking his head, “I’m sure it’s alright. He won’t be angry and he definitely doesn’t hate you. You’re kind of all he talks about.”

Mia blushed again, but the pit of guilt was way too heavy in her stomach to really hear what Liam was saying. He eventually shot her a smile, “It’s on the fourth floor, apartment number 46.”

“Thank you.” She rushed out, turning around and hopping into the elevator. She reached the fourth floor quickly and hurried out, scanning the apartment doors before coming to a stop in front of number 46.

The six was a little crooked on the door and she pressed her lips together, knocking on the wood.

It only took about seven seconds for the door to open, revealing Harry.

He frowned in surprise to see a panting Mia standing outside his door. He had taken off his beanie ever since coming home, and for his own comfort – and it was something he did when he felt bad – he had changed out of his jeans and put on some sweats.

Mia was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide, and Harry was too shocked to see her here, to even say anything. He had seen her missed call, but hadn’t answered on purpose. He needed to cool down first, deal with his emotions and feelings before hearing her apology which he knew for sure was coming.

He had already seen it in her face before she even spoke out the words. She had been apologising through her eyes before even saying anything back in that therapy room.

“Harry.” She murmured, nervously shifting on her feet as she shook her head, “I-I’m so sorry.”

Harry could see the tears springing in her eyes as her bottom lip quivered and he quickly lost his frown while taking a step closer to her, “Mia, hey… it’s okay. I know you had to say it because he was listening, I know you didn’t want to."

“Y-You did?” She squeaked softly, sniffing once, “I feel so bad, Harry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” He softly chuckled, endeared by how emotional she felt and how much this had been eating her up. He gently reached for her forearm to pull her into the apartment. The door closed behind them and Mia continued sniffing.

“Love.” Harry coaxed, “Please, don’t cry.”

Mia lifted her watery eyes and quickly nodded, “S-Sorry. You’re right.”

“Don’t have to apologise.” He shook his head, reaching for her hand, “It’s okay. I’m fine. ‘M sorry for running out and for not answering your call.”

“No, no,” She shook her head, “you had every right to do so. I’m sorry that I made you feel bad.”

Harry took another step closer to her as they had their hands entwined, and he gave hers a gentle squeeze before swallowing thickly, “The only reason I felt bad, was because you were right.”

Mia’s head came up, her light blue irises staring up into him. Harry could see the small tears on her waterline and the soft pink of her nose, “Do… Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry softly shook his head, “Not really.”

“Okay.” Mia whispered before sniffing once more, “C-Can I give you a hug? Hugs always make me feel better when I’m a little down. Hazel gives great hugs. Maybe they can make you feel better too.”

Harry had never been much of a hugger. He wasn’t a very affectionate person in general. Physical contact made him a little squeamish. But with Mia, he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms. He sighed out softly and nodded, “Yeah.”

She dropped her bag and stood up on her tippy toes before hesitantly wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry bent down a little, circling them around her waist. He closed his eyes, feeling her wetted coat beneath his palms but also feeling the heat radiating from her through the fabric. He pulled her into him, flush to his body and Mia bent and moved along to fit his shape.

Her chin was on his shoulder and Harry sighed out again, leaning down a little bit more to nuzzle his nose into her clothed shoulder. He had been right when dreaming about her. Her scent was everything he had expected it to be. Cinnamon, floral and pure warmth and comfort.

Her body had been everything he had expected it to be, fitting perfectly with his as they merged together easily. His palms engulfed her back whole and her arms were tight around his neck.

He wasn’t sure if the hug was more meant for him or her, who it was really supposed to help feel better. But he knew it did wonders for him. He melted into her touch, legs liquifying the longer they stayed like that. With closed eyes, they were engulfed completely into one another and none made the attempt to even get away.

“I’m asking Dillon to transfer me to someone else.” Harry eventually mumbled into Mia’s shoulder.

She sharply pulled back, a look of confusion in her eyes, “A-Are you still angry?” She whispered. Harry chuckled and shook his head, bringing one hand up to brush a strand of hair away and tuck it back into her braid, “No, ‘m not. But I can’t wait another four weeks to take you out.”

Mia grinned wide, biting her lip to hide it as she blushed a little. She buried her face back into him and Harry chuckled when they resumed their hugging position.

“Tomorrow?” He whispered softly, “Will you go out with me tomorrow?”

Mia smiled, squeezing her eyes shut in excitement as she wanted to jump up and down, “Yes.” She squeaked.

#writers on tumblr #writing #fanfiction #one direction #alisonfelix #wattpad #harrystyles #hsau #hs #harrystylesfanfic #harrystylesfanfiction #1dff #harryfanfiction #smutwarning #smuttystory #youngromance

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thoughtsofatransboy · 2 months

Text

"Forgiven"

Priest!Gerard x Ftm!Reader

Warning: NSFW, Dark content? Grammar mistakes I'm not a native English speaker, Probably doesn't make sense cuz i don't have a clue of what people do in a Catholic church, Religious guilty, Sin confession, Religious mention (what you expected? It's a priest), kinda of blasphemy? (Idk, you're fucking a priest inside the church, is it blasphemy?) Ftm reader, low-key dysphoria mentions. (Ignore Frank lol)

Synopsis: You're a low-key religious ftm guy, Father Way is the only one who understands you and don't judge you by your gender, but how can you confess to him when he is the one in your sinning thoughts?

"Here i am..." You said, finally arriving the little church. Despite you being trans, you still kind of religious, anytime you think you sin, you feel a necessity to confess, but this time you went too far.

The sin of Lust. But you made it WORST. You were fucking desiring a priest, the local priest, the only one who supported you on being yourself. You were feeling horrible, but what could you do? Father Way was the hottest guy you ever seen, the way he moves, the way he talks and the way we calmly listen to you everytime you need to confess.

You see Father Way, when he looks back to you, he goes to you. "Hello Son, need to confess again?"

You nod timidly, nothing else to say. Trying to figure out how to manage through this situation, how could you confess to him when he's the reason you sinned? Well, it's not like you have time to think now, he's already leading you to the confessional.

As you sat down, he noticed you were very nervous, in an attempt to calm you down, he said "Calm down my dear... Tell me your sins, you will be forgiven... There's nothing in the world that you do that can't be forgiven. The tone he said it could make your body melt right there, it's not your fault that he's so sexy even while trying to be modest, isn't it? Oh... How could God forgive you when you are sinning inside his own house? Inside the church?

"Dear? Are you feeling nice?" Father Way's voice breaks your mental focus, now you know you need to start it or at least say something. "Sorry Father, I'm going to start..." You left out a pity and anxious sigh. "I've been lustful... Filthy thoughts... And about someone i shouldn't..."

"A married man?" It was the worst he was expecting, honestly. "No... E-even worse" Father Way raised an eyebrow... suspecting of who could be the one making you have naughty thoughts.

"Then? Who is it?" You swallow it hard, getting more and more anxious. "A...a p-priest. I-i visited another church last week and-and i met a young priest and he's...cute" Fuck! You're a horrible liar. "hmmm... I see, i see... I'm not going to lie, it is a pretty bad sin... But you can receive forgiveness, just don't do it again and pray asking God for forgiveness, He will listen to your plead, I'm sure"

"But father... i-i..." You shut your eyes down, trying to breath but you couldn't, the guilty was too much, some tears started to roll down by your face. "Father... the... priest... is..is..." You decide to tell it, if you didn't the guilty would eat you alive. "You! You're the one in my thoughts! My worst ones"

Way was impressed, the confessional was suddenly silent but after some seconds, that felt like years, he smirked a little "Oh sweet boy... What a bad, naughty boy... you've been getting all aroused because of me?" You blink three times in shock, you really hope you aren't dreaming...

"F-father... what are you saying-?" You're more nervous than before, happy that Way's teasing you but shy at the same time. "Oh... You know very well what I'm saying" He stepped off of the confessional cabin, getting closer and closer to you, the gap between you and he is very little. He started to kiss you jaw getting closer to your ear "Want this? Couldn't lie... I've been a little interested in you too... But you're probably happy with it, aren't you? Don't lie" You could only nod. "Great" without you noticing he was already with his hands all over your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"I'll fuck your sins out of you, 'kay? So you get satisfied and won't do it ever again... You so shy today... Where's my brave boy?" You couldn't hold it anymore, you pull him into a kiss, a deep and lustful kiss. You guys separate it after some time, in the need to breath. "There he is! There he fucking is..." He started to kiss and suck in your neck, whispering praises to you "Such a sweet boy, so pretty, so handsome... You're very handsome, aren't you?"

You could only whine and moan while he attached your neck, but you wouldn't let it go this easily. You pushed him, making him enter the confessional cabin, once he entered it, you didn't thought twice before sitting on his lap, now your time to suck and kiss his neck, licking and holding tight on his shoulders. "Oh my God boy... You gonna kill me this way.... Argh!" Way tried to hold his moans, too proud to let them out. You grind against his lap, making friction against his bulge, the bulge you only noticed now that he sat down. You kissed him deep once again, harmoniously wrapping his tongue with yours, it was a messy and sloppy kiss, but one full of desire.

"Aaaa...Mmm.. okay boy! 'kay! Got it dude... you're in control, Kay? Kay?" You smirk, happy that he finally admitted it. "We need to be quickly, soon we'll have a mass..." You got in your knees, already pulling out his cassock. Once you removed it, you already started to kiss and tease his bulge, once you remove his cock from the boxers, you look at him, with a naughty smile, his cheeks all flushed and his breath hot.

You kiss and lick the tip of his cock, taking the opportunity to massage his balls, his cock throbbing crazily and his moans echoing around. "Yeah! T-that's my dude... A good cock sucker... Mmm... My little cock sucker, thank you... Argh! Thank you.... C-can i suck your dick too?" You stopped your sucking, glaring at him, nodding as quick as you processed the information.

Way put you on his place, crawling between your legs, unbuttoning your jeans and pushing your boxers down. The groan he left out was nothing but pure carnally desire. "What a pretty dick... What a pretty hot hole... I love it" He started licking delicately over your t-dick, kissing and sucking making you melt in pleasure. "Can i finger you? D-do you like it?" You nodded, Way inserted two fingers into your hole, not focused in being quick but in touching your sweet spots. He felt you clench hard around his fingers, he giggled silently, going back into sucking your t-dick. "Good... You're going to cum for me, huh? Gonna cum for me handsome?..." You finally reached your climax, moaning high and shameless, for a second being grateful that the church was empty today.

Your legs were a little shaking, so he put you on his lap a little, stroking your hair. "Forget that shit about being quick...my handsome...so good for me... You were incredible..." He kissed your cheek and kept stroking your hair. After some minutes you both decided to take the next step, he stroked himself a little, rubbing against your entrance. "Shh... Shh... I'll take care of you handsome, i promise" He pushed it into you slowly and delicately, like he was touching a piece of glass. His firsts thrusts were deep and slow, letting you adjust to him and afraid of hurting you. "You too tight... Oh God..." He started bucking his hips into yours, his thrusts getting faster and faster, you bucking your hips down on his too, increasing the deepness and the friction, you both left out a cracked moan. "F-Father... Oh my gosh... You're so good... So hot..."

You guys muffled each other's moans with kisses. "I love you Way! I love you..." you bucked your hips particularly harder this time. "Thanks handsome... i love you! I-i love you too....!" You're reaching your climax along with him. "Aaaa! D-dude... Gonna c-cum on my cock sweet boy? I think you really sh-should!" You clenched hard around his cock, finally cumming. He didn't lasted that long after you finished, he bucked his hips one last time before cumming inside you. He kissed your lips with a soft sigh. "You're incredible... I'm happy to have you... So pretty and hot.." you giggled a little, resting your head on his shoulder. "Forgiven" you both crack in a laugh, he stroked your hair a little more. "I'll help you to get dressed, the mass will start very, very soon... When it finishes, I'll bring you home and we'll cuddle together, okay?" You only nodded, pecking his lips while he helped you to put your boxers on again. You left the confessional cabin, taking a seat waiting for the mass to start. Smiling silly everytime you locked your eyes into his, now you're deep in sin, but really happy.

#mcr smut #Smut #mcr x reader #gerard way smut #gerard way x reader smut #gerard way x reader #mcr x reader smut

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saintsenara · 16 days

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Heyy, just came back from reading your analysis for remadora and snupin, and I just wanted to say THANK YOU for speaking the truth no one else seems to aknowledge.

First of all, Tonks is a queen and neither Remus or Sirius held a candle against her. I agree that their relationship wasn't at all perfect, that there were many topics to be discussed and explored there, and let's be honest, Remus isn't exactly healthy boyfriend material, regardless of his age.

Which takes me to my point. I love some fluffy snupin fic with a sweet and regretful Remus as much as the next person, mostly because it feeds my joy on seeing him actually beating himself for his mistakes and how he was as much of a bully to Severus as the rest of them. I want Severus's pain and the role Remus played in it to be acknowledged in their relationship.

However, I also want to see some good canon compliant snupin fic where Remus Lupin is presented as the low-key cruel and dark asshole we know he is. I don't buy that he only remained with the marauders because he didn't want to be alone, hell nah, that was Peter. Remus enjoyed their shenanigans and the pranks just as much, and I bet he was the mastermind behind a lot of them. I believe he was the only one who had some guilty conscience afterwards, but it wasn't nearly enough to make him re-consider.

I want some snupin fic where their dynamic follows the one we see in canon. Severus being terrified of Lupin and traumatized after what happened in the Shack, I want Lupin to low-key get off his fear because it makes him feel superior to the usually composed and indiferent Snape. I want Lupin to have been weirdly fixated with Severus since their school years and that's why he never stopped the pranks, because he enjoyed seeing the other boy under their mercy. I want Lupin to "hunt" him as both a teenager and as they're both professors in Hogwarts. Back when i read the books, I always thought his behaviour with Severus, both when they interacted and when Lupin talked about him with others, was kinda fruity. Like, what's up with than enthusiasm to see him wearing woman's clothes? How come he's the only one who refers to him "Severus" when everyone else, except for Dumbledore, calls him Snape? Yeah, it always felt weird to me.

In short, I simply think their canon compliant dynamic would be much more interesting if taken in consideration for fanfics. I love the whole "prey/predator" dynamic they could have.

ahh, thank you so much, anon! i'm delighted that you enjoyed my thoughts on both snupin and remadora - there are dozens of us!

[and i'd like to also draw your attention to this excellent addendum to the remadora point by @evesaintyves - i think it's really important for all of us remadora fans to be vigilant about challenging a tone which is far too prevalent in our conversations that to think about tonks - and lupin - as queer devalues them and their relationship within a canon-coherent setting.]

and yes - absolutely - i love seeing the messiness and thorniness of lupin explored - in snupin or otherwise - by stories which engage with the ruthlessness which lurks beneath his mask of benign affability. bring me the story which really gets into lupin describing his midnight jaunts with the lads in full werewolf form as "the best times of my life" - and clearly never being anywhere near as sorry about the risk he was running as he makes out in prisoner of azkaban...

[and also the fact that it doesn't seem quite as clear to me as i once thought it did that he didn't know anything about the werewolf prank...]

and i think there's an enormous amount of potential in using the longstanding cruelty which is tangible in snape and lupin's dynamic as a vehicle to bring down the mask behind which he lives - and that his relationship with his own sexuality is a really interesting example of that.

there's a homophobic undercurrent to a lot of the marauders' bullying of snape - the nickname "snivellus", for example, is based in the idea of snape being improperly masculine - which endures into the adult lupin and sirius' relationship with him [sirius' comment about snape being lucius malfoy's "lapdog" is him insinuating a sexual relationship between them in which snape is implied to be the receptive partner; lupin obviously thinks that snape would regard being made to cross-dress as humiliating and emasculating].

and while i love the portrayal of the wizarding world in fics as some sort of queer utopia - because i love the escapism of it - the evidence we have from canon is that this is... a pretty far-fetched thing to say about a society which is so obsessed with blood and lineage and the continuation of both of these things.

someone like lupin, who already depends so much on maintaining a mask of "civility" and conformity because of the precarious status his lycanthropy confers upon him in the eyes of the state strikes me as someone who would really struggle to acknowledge himself as queer in any way without thinking of that queerness as deviant and as dangerous to him.

[which is such an underrated remadora premise - tonks is clearly much more comfortable with being experimental and explorative in how she engages with the world. you could have so much fun with the impact tonks' relationship to her own queerness would have on lupin's relationship to his.]

lupin discovering snape is queer - and the combined fear and desire this might inspire in him, and how this would be received by snape, who is still so hung up on being afraid of and humiliated by him - could be a really complex and tangled premise for a story.

which i think you may have just offered to write...

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #snupin #remus lupin #severus snape

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badbatcher-99 · 2 months

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Bad Batch: The Return✨

My thoughts below 👇

I’m excited to see where this episode will pick up at. Whatever way it does I’ll be happy for but here’s a few ways it could go:

“We pick up right where we were left off at” I like this option because it would allow us to see Hunter and wreckers reactions to crosshairs return. I can def see wrecker and Hunter being hesitant and cautious with crosshair and there may be a few words blown at each other. Though I think crosshair is just too exhausted at this point to really have any biting come backs. We all know he feels guilty over what he’s done enough that he felt he deserved to be imprisoned and tortured for the rest of his life. I just don’t think he would be making the same level of snarky remarks as he did in his first appearance with how he feels. Whatever does end up happening tho I think omega is going to be the one that persuades them to let crosshair rejoin (if that even needs to happen in the first place. Crosshair is here now. He’s chosen omega. They won’t leave him behind) but as much as I’d like to see this all go down I think this is the least likely option.

“We pick up in the middle of a mission” it’s not unusual for there to be time gaps between each episode of the bad batch (unless it’s necessary to pick up from the last episode. Like omega getting kidnapped or the fall of kamino etc) . Everything I mentioned in episode one can happen in other scenarios. The key is “if we show them this, what happens next”. Picking up where we left off, what happens after they leave the moon? Do we just cut back to pabu? Introduce crosshair to phee? Basically… if this episode is about crosshair earning back his place as a bad batcher then continuing where we left off is not the way to do it. That process needs time! So we get a small time jump. “BuT WhAt aBoUT tHe ReUnIoN” as I said earlier everything I mentioned in 1 can happen / be mentioned in other scenes. **that’s called good writing** (if you just spoon feed the audience everything they want, things get bland. You want your audience to think.) I think a lot can be said if we start off in the middle of a mission (the ice planet(?)) we get to see how the team is working together now. Are they working flawlessly? Or is their rhythm off? We can see Hunter and wrecker acknowledge crosshairs hand tremors and see how it affects how they work together. Are they communicating with one another? Avoiding each other? Is there tension? Is there trust? What do they say to one another? What’s their body language? How do they interact post mission? I think so much can be said in this option and I think it’ll be more beneficial to crosshairs return. This is my fav option

“Unknown” If they don’t start on the ice planet then I think at some point in the episode phee sends them on a mission that brings them to the ice planet. This option would still include a time jump but I wouldn’t know how it would start. We could open up with Hunter wrecker and omega on pabu with phee and phee tells them about the mission. Omega wants to go but her brothers tell her to lie low. We see Hunter and wrecker return to the marauder and we see crosshair is already inside ( he’s distancing himself from his brothers and everyone else 🥲. I bet he looks so small here 😭) I can see Hunter explaining the mission to him and a very quiet awkward ride to the destination. As the mission goes on. Things prob go wrong and all three are forced to talk together or crosshair does something that pulls the heartstrings and they all talk idk idk idk. 😭 😭 😭 this episode is going to be so good.

Anyway… whatever happens I’ll be really happy!!

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #star wars tbb #bad batch #crosshair #tbb crosshair #hunter #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb omega #sw tbb #tbb spoilers #tbb s3 spoilers #bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch spoilers

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animeyanderelover · 1 year

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For Killua and Gon, poly or separate is fine w me. What about a Reader whom they always want or have felt the need to protect, suddenly decided they wanted to learn how to fight so they can go on adventures together but mostly so they can protect them just as fiercely as they do to them? (Meanwhile both boys couldn't fathom how that'll work because Reader is very Kind or soft in personality, but still Darling is very stubborn on wanting to protect them too)

I did the poly edition, I’m in the mood to write for poly.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, manipulation

I want to protect you too!

🎣 🪀 Both boys are protective over their darling, especially considering their past. Killua is from a family of famous assassins and paranoid that those people will harm you and Gon has suffered a traumatic experience with the death of Kite which scarred him and made him return also very paranoid and protective. Considering your kind and soft personality, those overprotective traits only multiply. Your kindness and your refreshingly innocent personality is low-key addicting for those two and they've sworn on their lives to keep you away from all the violence and danger in the world. You're too precious and both of them want to keep you safe from a world of terror and death which both of them experienced. They view you as not fitting to ever enter this world.

🎣 🪀 Gon is already delusional, unaware of his obsession. He tends to see himself and Killua as your protectors. Absolutely adores your soft personality and loves to show you the nature he grew up with. Gon is lenient as long as nothing involves potential danger. Killua is more cautious and paranoid which sometimes ends in harmless arguments between the two of them but chances are good that Gon and you can convince Killua to let you do something a bit more adventurous together with Gon. Killua on the other hand is a sucker for darling's softness, it's such a vast difference from all the violent people he ususally finds himself surrounded with, s/o is his little sunshine. He's eating all the kindness and the affection up even if he tries to play it a bit more tough but at the end of the day he adores all the cuddles and kisses.

🎣 🪀 Both of them probably give you an incredulous look when you one day announce that you want to learn how to fight too so you can protect them just as much as they do you. Gon probably laughs it off at first as a joke whilst Killua just stares at you. When you insist that you're not joking though, Gon ends up being majorly confused. You have Killua and him, there's no need for you to fight. Gon doesn't really see the need for you to fight, your personality makes it hard for him to fathom how that should even work since you're the type of person who can't even hurt a fly. He's the one who actively engages in a discussion with you where both of you butt heads for a while since both of you remain stubborn.

🎣 🪀 Killua keeps quiet and just watches as a conflicted expression crosses his face slowly. He's somewhat more reasonable as of now and at one point stops Gon as soon as he realizes that you grow mad. He doesn't want you to be angry with Gon and him. He understands where you're coming from, you might feel somewhat guilty that those two always end up protecting you and fighting for you because you don't know how to defend yourself. You must feel a bit guilty. There is this fear inside of him that one day Gon and him might not be there to protect you so it would be useful in this situation if you would know how to defend yourself. He's paranoid that you'd end up being dragged into the world he doesn't want you to enter though if you'd ever learn how to use Nen and similar to Gon, he just doesn't know how you could fight with your kind heart.

🎣 🪀 Killua talks with Gon about it, aware that his green-haired friend is a tad bit too delusional to really be fine with this idea, Killua himself wavers. The assassin wants to try to respect your wishes somehow though so he really attempts to somewhat get through Gon. It's likely that with some begging and puppy eyes from your side, Gon caves in. That doesn't mean by a long shot that you've done it though. Both boys most likely delay teaching you Nen since they fear that it might be too much of a strain on your body and that you would end up getting involved in things they don't want anywhere near you. They either end up starting with hand-to-hand combat or a weapon and even then they end up being quite overbearing. It's obvious none of them goes really hard as both hold back out of fear to hurt you and as soon as you do get hurt, Gon makes a fuss about it. Gon doesn't really try and Killua struggles immensely to be more serious for your sake.

🎣 🪀 Gon gains most likely the impression that you feel like you're a burden which breaks his heart a bit so he ends up spoiling you with his love. He constantly ensures you that you are everything for him and Killua and slides within his praises constantly his pleas in for you to stop training how to fight. You struggle and it pains him yet you're too stubborn to stop. Killua feels bad for you since both of them are really not that much of help for you yet he doesn't stop Gon since deep inside his heart he also secretly wishes that you don't force yourself so much. Whilst not as vocal, Gon's behavior is infectious so he grows also more clingy and cuddly since the idea of you feeling like a burden is very likely and he doesn't want you to feel that way.

🎣 🪀 Training with them doesn't do much because the moment Killua actually tries to be a bit more serious, his heart either wavers out of fear or Gon stops him and scolds him for trying to go hard on you since he might hurt you. At one point you end up practicing on your own and even then at least one of them watches over you, sometimes even without you knowing. They definitely don't want you to go alone even if you might end up convincing Killua to allow you to be alone at least for a bit. If you don't tell Gon that you want to practice fighting, he's also willing to give you some time alone because otherwise he'd insist to tag along.

🎣 🪀 You might be able to make it through like this although you realize that you're in severe need of a better trainer since your two lovers don't have the courage to go serious on you, they're much more busy fussing over your soft personality. You also realize that it's impossible to keep such a secret away from them though and you're sure they'd be extremely mad if they'd find out that you want to find someone to train them. Not to mention what they might do to the poor soul if they injured you in the process of training you. Unable to lie to them and risk something, you ask them if you can have a teacher who helps you with your training which elicits strong protest from Gon's side and you have the feeling that Killua thinks the same but keeps his thoughts bottled up.

🎣 🪀 If you think that they're already overbearing just wait until you earn your first major injury whilst training because then both of them explode. Gon is absolutely convinced that you shouldn't fight since he doesn't even want to imagine what injuries you might suffer whilst being in a real fight and Killua easily sways in the direction of Gon's belief whenever he sees your injuries and the pain it causes you. Both boys basically breathe down your neck and rarely leave you alone during your recovery and especially Gon babbles you full with his speeches why you shouldn't even fight since you're not fitting to do so. He doesn't mean to hurt you with his words but chances are that he does and Killua ends up explaining that he didn't mean to give you the impression that you're weak yet his heart can't deny that it agrees with Gon's words. You're forbidden to continue your training afterwards.

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere gon #yandere gon freecss #yandere killua #yandere killua zoldyck

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e-dubbc11 · 11 months

Text

True North

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Ah none, really. Just a bunch of fluff, so much fluff. This will give you a toothache, it’s so sweet.

Word Count: 1.7k-ish

Summary: Friday nights at home are your favorite. You’re waiting for your love to bring home pizza and beer but he has a special gift for you tonight.

A/N: This was just a silly little thought that popped into my head. I have a necklace that looks like this and it just seemed like a sweet idea. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Friday. Your favorite day of the week. Not only was it the start of the weekend but also because Billy would always leave work early so you could spend the evening together.

He would bring home pizza and beer, a small gesture but a gesture that made you incredibly happy. It actually made him happy too. He felt guilty for working long hours and this was a way of making it up to you.

You didn’t know it yet but he had a little something extra for you tonight, a gift. It wasn’t your birthday or an anniversary but he wanted to get you something to tell you how he really felt about you.

Even though you didn’t ask for much and you understood he had to work long hours, you appreciated your Friday nights at home with him and appreciated the effort he made to spend those nights with you. Sometimes love wasn’t in the form of words, sometimes it was the form of extra cheese and the tasty seasonal beer that you had been wanting to try.

The music you had playing was at a low volume so you heard his keys in the door. As he unlocked the door, a smile played across your mouth and you glanced over your shoulder waiting for him to walk through the door. You were so excited to see him after a long day at work.

The pizza box was the first thing that crossed the threshold, a bouquet of flowers was resting on top of the box, and you looked up to see Billy’s handsome face concentrating really hard trying not to drop everything that was in his hands.

“Baby! Little help, please!” He called out from the doorway.

Rushing from the kitchen, you made a motion to take the pizza box from him when you noticed the flowers.

“Pizza AND flowers, my love? You’re so sweet!” You said excitedly.

He chuckled a little. “Just take the flowers for me, sweet girl. I got everything else.”

You removed the bouquet of multi-colored roses from the top of the box and walked to the kitchen to put them in some water.

Feeling his eyes on you, you asked. “You see something you like, handsome? You just saw me this morning, ya know.”

“Yes, but that was hours ago.” He said.

His eyes lingered on you as you trimmed the stems and carefully arranged the roses in the vase, inhaling the scent as it wafted throughout the kitchen. They smelled wonderful.

The handwritten card simply said “I love you.” Holding it in between your fingers, you just stared down at those three words on the card for a minute with a smile on your face, thinking how much you adore the man that gave you the card and the flowers, remembering that it’s not always easy for him to express his feelings, but it gave you butterflies every time he did.

After placing the pizza and the beer on the dining room table, Billy watched you from the kitchen entrance. He loved you. He loved you more than he thought he could love anyone and you brought a smile to his face every single day.

Just as the gesture of bringing home pizza and beer every Friday made your heart swell, the little things you did for him made his heart swell in return.

You would always ask how his day was, leave little notes in his jacket pocket every morning, text him during your lunch break, and one of his favorites was when you had cookies delivered to his office once a week. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it all but what he did know is he loved every second of it and never ever wanted to take you for granted.

The small jewelry box was in his jacket pocket, he brushed the smooth white ribbon with his fingertips as he slowly walked up behind you and kissed you on the temple. His strong hands wrapped tightly around your waist as he inhaled the scent of your perfume. Billy was so happy to be home and could not wait to give you your gift.

“What is it, Billy?” You asked with concern in your voice. “You ok?”

He kissed you on the temple again and pulled you flush with his body.

“I’m just happy to be home, baby.” He said.

Resting your head back against his chest, you closed your eyes and stood there quiet for a minute, and let out a low hum.

“Hmmmm…well I’m happy that you’re home, my love.” You said. “You ready to eat? I’m starving.” You turned around to face him and he cupped your cheeks and smiled as he leaned down to kiss you.

Billy pressed his body against yours, pinning you against the counter and planting soft kisses against your lips, over your cheeks and down your neck. His lips touched the spot where your neck meets your shoulder which made you weak in the knees every time.

“Billy?” You asked, breathlessly. “Not that I mind the extra affection but you sure you’re ok?”

“I love you.” He said, his eyes looking like two cups of black coffee as he hugged you tightly, almost like he was scared of what would happen if he let you go.

Sometimes he didn’t need to tell you with words exactly how he was feeling but his body language and actions told you instead. His shoulders were tense, the muscles in his back pulled tight against his suit jacket, and it felt like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too, baby. Is there something you want to talk about?” You asked him, gently raking your fingers through his dark brown hair.

“I have something for you.” He whispered against your mouth with a blur of a smile.

The corners of your mouth turned up into a slight smile. “You do? You brought me pizza and flowers, I don’t know anything that can top that.” You said, trying to get another smile out of him.

Billy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the box with the ribbon tied around it. “I—I wanted to get you something to tell you how I really feel about you. I know I don’t always say it, or CAN’T say it actually.”

Your expression softened and you brushed his beard with your thumbs as you looked down at the box and back to him through your dark lashes.

He handed you the box. Untying the ribbon, you continued to smile up at him, and removed the top of the box. Inside, was a small round sterling silver pendant, and when you looked at it closely, engraved into it were the markings of a compass.

“Oh Billy…it’s beautiful. I love it! Can I ask, why a compass though?” You asked.

He removed the necklace from the box and fastened it around your neck.

“Well…I know how this is gonna sound—“ He paused as he finished fastening the necklace and you turned around to face him again, lightly touching the necklace at your throat.

“It’s ok, baby. You can tell me, what is it?” You said in a comforting voice.

Billy took a deep breath and let out a long exhale as he closed his eyes, really concentrating on what he wanted to say.

“I know this is different from the jewelry I usually pick out for you but I saw this and I thought about my life before I met you. I was just going through the motions of doing nothing but work, dating women that didn’t mean anything to me, I was just…lost. You, sweet girl, are my compass and I would be lost without you.”

Your heart jumped into your throat and tears welled up in your eyes. That had to be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever heard. Living with Billy wasn’t always easy and sometimes you did have to put him in his place. You had to guide him, be patient with him, and tell him how his actions made you feel but this gift was so thoughtful and he did this all on his own.

He picked out a gift for you that meant something to him, something that conveyed his feelings for you without having to use words because it was difficult for him.

“I don’t know what to say…that is so sweet, my love.” You said, your voice catching in your throat.

“I’m not aimlessly wandering through life anymore because I have you. So, yeah it’s a little cheesy but that’s why I got you a compass.” He said. “I love you.”

“I love you too Billy, so much.” You replied, pulling him in for a hungry kiss and he welcomed your lips, your tongue and your hands pulling at his raven colored hair.

Billy held everything he treasured close to his chest. He did everything he could to hold on to the things he loved most in the world because he didn’t want them to be taken away from him, especially you.

If he had a bad day, at least he had you to come home to and he didn’t have to deal with it alone. He had always wanted to know what that was like, to have someone that cared about him, that cared about what happened to him, and that…loved him.

Billy never thought anyone could love him, his own mother didn’t so why would anyone else? How could anyone accept him for what he is? He thought he would always be that broken little boy without a home, without a family, and without hope.

But he finally met someone that made him smile, that made him feel something other than pain or suffering and even though he resisted at first, he never wanted that feeling of love to go away. Your love and affection felt too good and he wasn’t lost in that void anymore, trying to pull and claw his way out, he was out because of you.

Never letting go, you had pulled him out and you would always keep him safe from anyone that tried to take his happiness from him, knowing he would do the same for you…his lover, his friend…his compass.

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack

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If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo #billy russo fluff #billy russo x you

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ryverbind · 4 months

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Faceless Fixation: Cat-FISHER [19]

A/N: in honor of 50k on Wattpad, LET'S GET ITTTTTT!!!!

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VIOLETVIOLENCE: it's really pathetic that i have to pull you aside like a child to tell you to tone down your shit.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: grow up.

SALLYFʌCɜ: grow up? look who's talking. might i remind you of a verbatim quote by yours truly... "lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet"

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i give back what i receive. you can dish but you can't take?

SALLYFʌCɜ: i can take twice as much as i dish.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm so sure that you can. fuck off, sal. quit being an asshat.

SALLYFʌCɜ: so now it's asshat? what happened to llcfcipbf? you're losing your creativity. do better, your fall from grace is disappointing even to me

VIOLETVIOLENCE: fuck you.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm sure you want to

He's real fucking cheeky. Excited, if you will. What's gotten into him?

Three days ago, while purposefully and pleasurably butchering Sal's character in Dead By Daylight, if anyone would have told me that the bane of my miserable existence and I would have a personal chat box open— I'd have laughed in your face. I'd have gone full Edgar Allan Poe. You would be in a Speed Bump Grave™️. I'd hear your phantom heart beat under my floor boards.

And now, here I am, simultaneously working through the worst shift of the week and having to bitch at Sally Face Fisher via discord DM's.

I don't know what I've done. Maybe it's just my existence, I'm not sure, but he's targeting me. It's horrifically bad. Every message from him, even if he's in the middle of conversing with one of the other of The Faces, has something about me included. And it is always shitty.

I'm not scared of him, how could I ever be? So I opted (more like I was seconds away from punching his scrotum through my phone screen) to reach out to him personally and nicely ask him to stop... okay so that's obviously a lie but I had to threaten and insult him back. It was the only way I'd feel better.

But now I'm stuck with this loaded last message from him and I have no idea how to continue. Because it's a repeat. A repeat of that fated Discord call that threw my entire existence askew for a week. Or four. Maybe I'm still askew.

His necklace isn't under a shoe in the farthest corner of my room for no reason, after all.

Today was supposed to be simple. Not easy because working at the diner is never easy, but simple. Simple fucking worked. And now I have this conversation with Sally hanging over my head when I was actually looking forward to what's meant to come after I finish my shift.

I brought my mask with me today. My plan is to immediately go back to that mask store after my shift and convince the sweet woman who helped me to sign her work, give me her name, a business card— literally anything so I can tell the world who gave me my start. But now I'm anxious enough to plead not guilty by reason of insanity due to not-so negligent or accidental arson. And on top of that, I'm starting to map out an intricately laid out plan for Sal's Speed Bump Grave™️. Today's ordeals have taken my mind by storm and I'm about to bring everyone down with me in this descent toward madness.

I'm just angry. And bothered. And low key wanting to message Sal back with, "Yea, I am. What are you gonna do about it?" But I must stay strong. I must soldier on. I know the repercussions, I've tasted them for myself— felt them burn my lungs to a crisp. I went through what felt like decades of chain smoking in just mere seconds.

And it's all because of—

A chime rings. A chime that came from my phone. It echoes through the diner's break room, startling me so hard that I nearly leap out of my chair. It's like waking up from a dream where you suddenly start falling.

What was that? What just popped up in my notifications?

Unknown: are you a poe fan, by chance?

My kingdom. My entire kingdom for a chance to start making a Speed Bump Grave™️. For myself? For Sal? For the inexplicable human race? I don't even know anymore.

I thought he'd given up on Lexi. So what the hell is this? Why now? Why today? Why right after he finished— flirting? Baiting?— me.

My mind goes blank. Maybe... maybe he's onto me. Maybe he knows. That I'm Lexi. And now he's finally decided to enact his revenge. On today of all days, when I feel so sick with anxiety and paranoia that I could throw up every square inch of my bowels. My feminine rage is so ragey that I wouldn't be shocked if I sprouted a pair of testicles just so I'd have an excuse for whatever bruised masculinity I'm experiencing right now. Sal must be projecting on me all the way from Nockfell.

Never in my entire life have I felt so hopeless, so cornered. Every time I feel this way, I think it can't possibly get any worse.

And yet.

Me: umm, can't say that i am! don't know much about him.. but how are you, sally!

I don't know what's possessed me. In a normal world, I would have blocked him by now. Or better yet, if I wasn't so disgustingly deplorable and had a damn backbone, I'd have texted him a picture of myself and said "Haha, gotcha bitch!"

The sad truth in this way-too-real life scenario is that I don't have a backbone. And I'm too far gone to go back. I can't revert. There's a part of me that still holds onto my first live interaction with Sal. I just can't get the memory of him— smooth, gentle, kind, and likable— out of my head. No matter how hard I try.

One thing I can be proud of is the amount of petty packed into the fact that I never saved his number in my phone.

Unknown: good. perfect, actually. i brought some poe with me today, a story i think you might like

Some kind of doom-ish feeling washes over me. Like a storm cloud forming above my head. Poison seeping into my pores, infesting my blood. I don't like the way he said that. I don't like it at all. It feels a lot like the time some kid threw up all over me in second grade.

I'll never forget the sickening chill that spread through my body as soon as I realized what happened to me in the middle of educational centers in Nockfell Elementary. This situation feels threateningly similar.

Me: oh cool! so i guess you'll be having a chill reading day? wish it was me :,)

Unknown: not quite. but hey, are you working today?

That storm morphs into a hurricane. And there's twin tornadoes in the background, growing closer and closer to make a torrid, lethal combination. I have to take this in stride. Be smart, y/n. Whatever hell may come, handle it accordingly and do not make mistakes.

Me: ah, no! out of town to visit family :) really, crappy, awkward family get together... yikes...

He'll totally buy that right? I didn't overdo it. It was perfect. Overdoing it would have been an entire paragraph about how much I hate my mom. This is good, this is fine. I'm totally not breaking out into a cold sweat with clammy palms to match.

Oh, God. What if he sent someone to spy on Lexi? What if he hired some murderer off the dark web to take care of me and clean up the mess? I wouldn't put it past him. And this scenario isn't even worst case!

Worst case... I don't even want to think about it. I can't.

Unknown: damn, lex... on the day that i'm finally back in la and you're out of town? :(

Oh, thank God I'm a paranoid chicken shit.

Then again, fuck the fuck off. It's worst case scenario, the thing that I didn't even want to think about. The thing I wouldn't allow to cross my mind.

What do I do. What do I do? I leave work— that's the smartest decision. Naturally, this is the place he once went to and, out of boyish fantasies, he'll probably come back here with some expectation that Lexi will miraculously pop up despite her being in like... Iceland or something, whatever it is I manage to come up with in my next text to him. Which—

Unknown: i'm at the diner rn. was hoping we'd get to hang out this time. when do you get home?

Oh, no.

It's a fucking disaster on top of twenty other disasters. This is what a pregnancy scare must feel like. This must be the equivalent to walking into a room full of snotty, sick toddlers. This is dropping an uncut birthday cake.

I think I'm gonna puke.

I look up from my phone and take in the empty break room surrounding me. The off-white, paint-chipping walls are closing in. I have no escape— this is prison. Trapped in my mind's clawed vices with no way out. Except, my mind's fears have transcended into reality. My worst fear has come true and I had no time to prepare for it. The time is nigh. Ruin is, unfortunately, now.

Think, y/n. It's not so bad. I can just leave through the back door and tell my boss I'm sick again. The door is literally to my left.

But to get back to my apartment, I have to cross in front of the diner that's full of windows. Sal is here, meaning he's paying attention to everything in hopes of finding me... even though I told him I'm not here.I just know he's that kind of romantic, if he even qualifies as such.

He'd spot me in a heartbeat and that can't happen because maybe Vi's mask concealed Lexi who was hidden beneath, but he's about damn near fucked Vi. He knows her body better than she does herself— than I do. Fuck, I have so many different personas I can't even remember that they're all me.

Clusterfuck. That's what this is. A massive clusterfuck, all of my doing.

I'm going to have to bite the bullet. That's my only option. And by bite the bullet, I'm going to fight tooth and nail to keep this bit going. I should just admit the truth, but I'm not humble enough for that, apparently.

My chest begins to ache. It's a slow-to-develop pain that only catches my attention when it hurts a little too much. And then the shallow, short breaths follow. And then the phantom feeling of something lodged in my throat, blocking my airways and filling me with dread.

This is a panic attack, one that is long overdue. One that still can't breach the surface quite yet. I need to make sure I'm home free first— I can weep and be dismayed later. Because the harsh truth is, yes this fucking sucks, but it's not going to kill me. It's just hard for me and my body to truly get a grasp on that.

I swallow down the anxiety that's billowing in my body like linens ominously drying outside a house in the middle of nowhere. I take a couple deep breaths, calming the doubt and fear raging within. My limbs shake a little less, my breathing is better controlled, and my chest doesn't hurt half as much. The pain is still there, but this is bearable. I can do this.

I rifle through my cubby which doesn't give me much to work with. I don't have a change of clothes. I have nothing to hide me, not even a hoodie.

"You... good, y/n?"

I whirl around, hope scraping at the insides of my cranium. Fuck yes. Best lobotomy ever.

I could really cry right now because this is a clear sign that I'm not as alone as I think. Even if it feels like I am, even if my dear coworker Ophelia can't really help me out all that much, she can definitely help me in some way.

I don't have to girl boss everything on my own.

"Lia," I start with, breathless as I practically teleport over to her with the quickness of my panicked steps. "Do you have something I can change into? I can't explain right now but... I would really appreciate your help."

Her big doe eyes take me in curiously, one of her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question. She bats her long lashes, seemingly processing what I've asked of her before giving me an answer.

"Um, I was planning on going out after my shift tonight? Would a dress work?" She grimaces a bit, probably worried that she won't be able to help me out because Ophelia is just like that.

"That would work fine!" I say excitedly, but think better of it, my hopes crumbling a bit. "But I don't want to take your outfit for the night. I can probably come up with something else."

Lia rolls her eyes lightheartedly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I follow the action, noting her long and sharp blood red nails. I gulp, looking back into her pretty ebony eyes. "Y/n, take what you need. You know Mike can drive me back home to get another outfit! We don't live too far away, and we don't need to be in Anaheim until 9 anyway. Do what you need to do-- you know I'm cheering for you, girl."

I grab onto her hand and hold back the intense admiration infecting my soul. I'm giving Ophelia the most visceral care bear stare I can possibly muster up and she notices, giving me a cute little upside down smile.

"You are an angel," I whisper, "And your future husband is too. Power couple of the heavens, really."

Lia giggles and bends her head down, forcing her pin straight black hair to fall into her face, thus accentuating the really eye-catching red money pieces that match her red nails. I aspire to be this woman. "It's not that serious, Ducks," she says, using my dads nickname for me that she overheard a couple months ago. She thought it was precious, so it stuck. "Let's go get you changed, 'kay?"

Change, I do. But I see where she was concerned about me wearing it too. It's for clubbing, cock-tailing, socializing for sure, but... I can make it work. I've got this. It'll be fine. Thank God I am an avid Doc Martens-wearer. Doc's go with absolutely anything.

Lia has taste too, it's a short, little red dress with spaghetti straps that flares out at the ends. It shows a lot of leg, but not much of anything else. I can't imagine how amazing she must look in this.

"You're super sure that you're okay wearing this?" Lia asks, looking over me. "It looks great on you, I'm inclined to tell you to keep it, honestly."

I scrunch up my face. "No, I'm giving it back to you tomorrow," I laugh gently, using my phone camera to try and get an idea of how I look. I can't see much, which is kind of a blessing because I might hate it and be too afraid to brave LA if I end up not liking it.

"I won't argue with you," Lia sighs, patting my back in a reassuring way. "So do you want to talk about what's going on?"

"Um," I murmur, a shiver running down my spine. I almost forgot why I'm having to do this. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been five minutes at most. "It's very hard to explain, but I might have to get you or Mike involved, whoever's hosting today." I can't help but grimace as the words leave me, but it's the unfortunate truth that I'll have to talk to one or both of them. I'm ever so slowly hashing out a plan in my head.

Sal is undoubtedly going to ask about Lexi, and what the hell am I supposed to do whenever someone goes, "Lexi? No Lexi has ever worked here." So I have to bite the bullet, again, and stick around to at least inform Mike or Lia about that part of my major, gargantuan fuck up. That also means there's a good chance that Sal will see me, but he'll likely ignore my presence, and then I can slip away quickly.

"Mike is up front and hosting today," Lia says, frowning at me. She's so pretty, like if Marilyn Monroe was alternative. Goth mommy and whatever. No shame on my part.

The chef's booming voice carries into the break room, Lia's name floating along with it. She winces at the sound, flinching in surprise. She gives me a pitiful look, tilting her head almost as if to apologize for having to do her job. Poor little love, she is.

"Will you be able to talk with Mike?" She asks me, heading for the door.

I nod hesitantly. "Yea, I'll get to him. Thank you so much for all your help, Lia. I really appreciate you." I send her my most genuine smile, one that she returns.

"Anytime, y/n! You look beautiful, by the way. Go knock 'em dead, literally or figuratively!"

And she's gone, but she hyped me up in the gentlest way possible. Bless her dark, lovable heart.

I take a breath-- a deep, fortifying, 'ohfuckohfuck' breath that does nothing to calm my soul, but I try to trick myself into believing that it worked... at least somewhat. Then I move over to my work cubby (because we're all still in primary school according to my boss) and grab my old backpack that I bring every day. It's raunchy at best and holding on by a thread. I kept it from my high school days. It's a plain black Jansport with coffee stains on the bottom and questionable white splats that are front and center for everyone to see. I'm pretty sure it's just crusty white paint that I never bothered to peel off, but I won't correct anyone if they guess something else. What's the fun in that, right?

I open the zippers and dig in, working past a random beanie from winter, pads and tampons, and a makeup bag. All the way at the bottom, buried under my other things for protection, is my mask. I put it on then look down at myself one last time.

The flashy red of the dress I'm wearing does not match the deep violet of my mask but not everything can go right, so I'll take my little loss. Things could be worse-- oh wait, they are. Sal Fisher is outside this room. Whoops, forgot things were already devastatingly bad.

I run my fingers over the forehead of my mask, feeling that ache creep into my chest again. I wish things weren't going this way. I wish I was brave enough to go outside and just keep working. Because I'm undoubtedly going to lose my job after today. I'm backing myself into a corner, even risking my finances because of this guy that I'm too scared to face as my real self. I've reached peak pathetic.

My dad must be disappointed to have such an incompetent daughter. No wonder my mother and I don't speak anymore.

I swallow past the uncertainty, the guilt, and the unadulterated fear gnawing at my soul. Then I follow through with my plan by throwing my backpack onto my shoulder and pushing the back door open despite knowing that this is not worth it. It's not worth it at all.

I circle around the outside of the diner, heart rumbling like an earthquake as the putrid scent of garbage wafts into my nose from the dumpster I'm currently passing in front of. The sounds of cars honking, people laughing and chatting idly.

Los Angeles is the people's place. It hosts all necessary components of life, some more than others. Socialization, food. It's a dopamine powerhouse. But when it's me, when I've been living here for over a year and seeing the same things every single day, it's stripped me of all my feel-good chemicals. Especially right now when LA is only bringing me problems and trouble (Sal Fisher).

This doesn't feel real. I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. I can't quite wrap the fact around my head, that I'm about to be in Sal's general vicinity yet again. I thought I had time.

I turn the corner, coming out onto the sidewalk in front of the diner. I don't stop in my stride, eyeing my apartment building that isn't very far from me. A five minute walk. I'm almost home. Almost free. I just have to get inside the diner, unfortunately inform Mike of the tea, and hopefully dodge Sal. So long as I keep my eyes on the host table, I may not even have to see him. I might just be psyching myself out. Everything's going to be just fine!

My heart is in my throat, my limbs jittering nervously as I push the glass door open and look forward, noting the short line of people waiting for seats. Sal isn't one of them, so I assume he's been seated already.

I walk past the people in line, getting a few looks from them. That'd be the mask's fault.

Mike's looking down at his seating chart on the host table, most likely mapping out where someone could go whenever I stop in front of him, placing a hand on the table to discreetly get his attention.

He looks startled for a moment before tilting his head up, brows scrunched together as if to say 'The audacity!' but then he sees me and his eyes widen a bit. And then I'm not sure what his next expression says.

"What the--" he chokes out, "Shit! It's you? Hold on-- wait-- mind-fuck--"

I lift a finger to my lips, eyes wide as I hope he takes the note to shut up. Adrenaline is starting to spike in my veins and if he draws anymore attention to us, especially since my mask is already drawing enough, I'm going to piss myself right here. And sue him for public embarrassment, or whatever that thing is. Public defecation? No, that's public defamation... anyway.

Michael's mouth snaps closed, but he keeps watching me. I watch him. We just watch each other as I forget absolutely everything I had planned.

I swallow, blinking at my friend and coworker. "Mike," I say quietly. He flinches at the sound of his name. "I need you to do something for me and I am sincerely sorry about this but..."

"Yea, Yea, y/n-- um, what should I call you...?" He cuts himself off viciously, slapping a hand over his mouth. At least he cares.

I lean my forearms across the table, settling my weight against the front to relax myself at least a little bit. I'm so tense. I feel eyes on me. I need to get out of here.

"Don't call me that," I say lightheartedly, puffing out a breath. "Just call me Vi. For now." I lick my dry lips. Mike of all people finding out about my identity as VioletViolence is the very least of my worries. "There's a guy in here. He has blue hair, can't miss him. I'm sure you already know who he is. He's looking for a girl named Lexi and he'll probably ask his waiter about her. Just say that Lexi isn't here today, you don't have to answer anything else about her."

"I'm guessing... you're Lexi?" He winces, leaning forward a bit.

"Wow," I say sarcastically. "How did you figure that out?" I send him a little smile then focus on the task at hand yet again. "Anyway, I need you to be his waiter. Please. I'll take your entire shift on Friday. I will do anything." I tilt my head down, peering up at him through my lashes in an attempt to portray how badly I need this.

Mike's brows bunch together again and he mutters, "Yea, of course. Whatever you need. But it's-- he came in with the rest of The Faces. Do you want me to... entertain them too? Do they know about Lexi?"

The world stops turning. Everything pauses, no one's moving anymore and I feel like I'm going to vomit with fear, burst with excitement, and pass out right here from exhaustion. The plan I had is ruined, and I couldn't be more equally devastated and exhilarated about it. Ash is here. Larry's here, Todd too. What the hell is going on?

I blink, the action bringing me back to the present.

"Hey, is that Lia's dress--"

"The Faces are here?" I cut him off, holding a hand out in pause, trying to drill this information into my head. Trying to make it real so I can come up with a new plan.

Michael watches me like I'm stupid, a rueful expression on his boyish face. "Yes. I already said that they're here. Why are you wearing my girlfriend's dress?"

"Because we're fucking on the side and she came all over my work outfit." I watch as he makes his little offended face, and my tongue prods at my cheek as instant regret slaps me in the face. He's trying to help me, I shouldn't be giving him this attitude. "Sorry," I admit. "You know that's not true. I'm just-- I'm on edge."

"That's okay," he says hesitantly. "You know I'm going to get you back for that, anyway."

I pinch my lips together, accepting yet another minor defeat. "Fair." I shrug. "I was going to go back home and leave you to the wolves but... I'd rather risk myself. Ash is my best friend. You won't have to handle them alone now, so yay!" I give him a cheerful grin that I'm really not feeling. I even throw in jazz hands.

Michael runs his tongue over the surface of his teeth, clearly not looking forward to the fiasco I've dragged him into. "Alright," he settles on, sighing as he looks down at his feet while grabbing another menu. "Let's see how you manage to back yourself further into whatever shitty corner you've created. I'm eager."

"I'm sure," I grind out, knocking down all the fear that overtook me on my way here and replacing it with impenetrable, desperate yearning to find my friends. I finally cast my gaze around the diner, quickly zeroing in on the one head of blue hair in this entire building. They're seated at a booth all the way at the back of the restaurant and next to the bar, the one place that's away from most prying eyes. A request of theirs, I'm sure.

But my next question, now that I know everyone's here, what the hell are The Faces doing in Los Angeles? And why wasn't I told?

Ash didn't say a word to me. Do they not want me around? Maybe they don't like me as much as I thought they did. Maybe Ash would rather hang around with other friends than me. And that would make sense because we never see each other, besides Vegas, of course. But just thinking about it makes pain erupt throughout my entire body, a pang in my heart. Especially while watching the back of Ash's head tip down while Larry laughs in front of her. Sal and Larry, I can see them, but Todd and Ash are facing away from me.

Another deep breath.

"I'm going to head over there," I tell Michael, looking over to him again. He's watching me closely, his expression of pity mimicking Lia's from earlier. The sight makes me a little sick.

"Alright," he says gently. "I'm going to be there to take orders soon. I hope everything goes well. Don't be nervous."

I huff out a humorless laugh. "Are you and Ophelia psychic or something? Or is my face just that readable?"

He shrugs, grinning slightly. "I can't see your face, so I guess we're psychic. I'll be in your dreams tonight."

That makes me laugh. It wasn't forced or fake, it was genuine and I need that right now. I think Mike knows that too.

I start taking quick steps over to where The Faces are, nerves slapping at my insides to make me turn around and forget that I ever saw them. I'm attacking myself with my own mind, and my mind is attacking my body in turn. Mental illness is crazy, right? Death by anxiety and whatnot.

But, you know, I'm already here. My job is in purgatory, I'm five steps away from them and Larry has noticed my movement, his head twisting toward me to see who's growing near.

Poor Larry. When he sees me walking toward them, he shakes his head and rubs his eyes like he doesn't believe what he's seeing. He looks at me again, and that's when his eyes start to widen, when his jaw drops. And he doesn't say word, that open mouth just turns into the brightest smile I think I've ever seen.

Seeing his excitement makes my insides flutter about and I feel a little better about actually going over to them. Imagine I get there and they shoo me away? But I can tell that Larry won't. That look on his face screams barely held back hugs.

I gulp, trying to ignore my major cotton mouth. I need water. Or tequila. Something.

I also don't give my brain even a second to psych myself out. When I reach the table, I simply plop myself down beside Ash and act like it's a normal, every day thing for me to do.

All heads turn to me (Larry's never turned away from me to begin with) and then I hear a quiet, uttered, "Fuck" followed by incessant, eardrum bursting squealing in my ear.

Arms. A lot of arms. A ton of squeezing. Lots of kisses all over my mask and face. And all the love makes me think that my sweet Ash had a good reason for not informing me of her visit.

I struggle, but I throw my arms around Ash too, squeezing every little inch of her that I can get. Her sweet, coconut and strawberry scent overwhelms me and I feel so at peace. So calm. Home. Back in Nockfell. Comfortable.

Her hair is in my face and I know she's crying because my bare shoulders are wet, thanks spaghetti strap dress. I don't care though because I'm seeing Ash again much sooner than I imagined I would. I thought it would take us years to have some time together like we did in Las Vegas. And Ash is so emotional, I feel like she's being ripped apart by the sight of me alone-- that's both adrenaline-inducing and terrifying.

This is a nightmare, but a dream come true at the same time. I'm so glad that I was paranoid enough to force myself to tell Mike about the Lexi situation. Things couldn't be any better.

"Ash, fucking let go, man. It's my turn." Larry's voice is right next to me, and then another pair of hands that envelop my waist whole. I'm then yanked out of my best friends arms and spun around to face Larry who hugs me so tight that I have to stand on my tiptoes.

I shut my eyes, grinning as I reach my arms up his back, hugging him the best way I can as he nuzzles his face against my mask. The smell of cigarette smoke and pine trees lingers on his clothes, yet again overwhelming me with familiarity. The smoke is a more recent addition, but he's always had a unique scent to him that's always reminded me of Christmas in a way.

The scruff on his cheeks scratches against my jaw, his skin is warm, his grip tight. I really miss home... and LA is not home. Home is back with all of my friends. I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to be where they aren't.

Larry takes a deep breath into my shoulder, likely bathing in my comfort just like I did with him. Then he backs up, holding me at arms length and I look up with tears welling in my eyes no matter how much I wish they weren't there. I hate crying, especially in front of other people, but I'm just so happy. It's like the anxiety I felt while walking over here never existed.

"What the hell are you doing here, Vi!?" Larry exclaims, dragging his hands up my arms to cup my face in his large palms. "I thought you lived in Connecticut?"

I place my hand on top of his, a spark of what I thought was fantastical anxiety rushing through me at the instant fuck up I've just made. Again. Crap. I forgot that Ash told them I live in Connecticut...

"Uh," Ash voices beside us, her tone taking the form of the smartest kid in class who's about to correct a mistake. Todd-coded. "I said she's from Connecticut, not that she still lives there." Good save, Ash. "Word choice is important, Lar! Pay attention!"

Larry's eyes swing between Ash and I before settling on me, stars dancing in his irises. "Wait, so do you live in LA, then?"

I can't help the excited little grin that's slowly climbing onto my face. It's Larry's turn to squeal as he suddenly realizes.

I look back over to Ash, catching Sal's gaze momentarily before I look over at Todd to wave. He waves back at me, a soft and pleased smile on his thin lips.

"So," I say, letting go of Larry whenever he backs away from me. I sit beside Ash again, leaning against her side as she throws an arm around my shoulders. "Why are you guys here?"

Ash hisses, frowning suddenly. I frown back, wary of her reaction. "Crap!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes. "Well, I was going to surprise you and the guys. But I guess you ended up surprising us instead..."

"Oh, so it's not just y/n that we're visiting while we're here? You knew Vi would be here too?" Todd asks, chewing on his bottom lip contemplatively.

Another spark of nervousness. They're here for... fuck, all three sides of me are expected in this situation. This... maybe was not really worth it. I'm erasing all the sides of my corner. Everything's starting to get really small and very tight.

Ash side-eyes me, a discreet little look before she answers Todd. "Yea, but I'm not quite sure where she is in LA. I'm going to have to call her later to get some updates on her whereabouts."

"I could just call her now. I'm super excited to see her, I'm sure she'd love to meet Vi too-- oh, and to tell her why we're here!" Larry says, excitement making him shimmy around in his seat as he pulls out his phone.

My body reacts instantly, tensing up like a cat in shock. Ash jumps too, nearly leaping over the table to stop Larry. "No! She's working!" She yells. It's so loud that you'd think she's trying to flip Larry's phone away from him with sound waves alone. True Stranger Things style.

"Oh...kay..." Larry trails off, pulling his phone closer to him so that Ash can't reach. "It's not that serious. I'll call her later, then. What's your deal?"

I swallow. Her reaction was really too much, but at least she's trying to cover for me. I would've sat there and let Larry call while my phone went off in my pocket.

Ash clears her throat, sitting back now that she threw the scenario into the trash. It was rocky, but her deflection was successful. "I know, just don't bother my girl while she's making money," she says matter-of-factly, holding her head high.

I note the way Sal shakes his head across the table. I haven't acknowledged his presence, nor has he acknowledged mine. It's awkward for the most part, but I think that awkwardness is only stemming from me. He seems to be perfectly in control with his short sleeved, black Iron Maiden shirt that shows off his tatted arms. I guess the LA summer heat was too much for him to wear a hoodie for once.

His electric eyes meet mine, no emotion in the endless depths of his irises. Like he couldn't care less that I'm here, which sounds a lot like him. And still, I fidget in my seat under his gaze. Can't help myself.

The edges of his dagger tattoo peek out from behind his hair, the shape of his Adam's apple clear due to the sun shining in through the window, casting shadows in all the right places. Necklaces are around his neck, some kind of silver chain and and old, really intricate cross necklace hanging right below it. And then his hand comes into view, the one that folded into a fist as a result of my touch just weeks ago in this exact restaurant.

There's something different though as he moves to grab onto the drink in front of him, dragging it closer.

The bottom of his prosthetic lifts as he sips from his straw, but that's when I notice what's different. It's a new tattoo-- Saniderm wrapped around his hand. It looks like... a skeleton hand tattooed onto his own. It's pretty sick and I'm so tired of him having great taste in art. Damn. Now I have a terrible excuse to stare at him some more when I shouldn't look anywhere near him at all.

On the other hand, have I ever mentioned how much of a blessing Michael is?

"Hi, everyone," his cheerful voice effectively distracts me from ogling Sal. I look over to my friend, noting his pink cheeks. Huh. "I'll be taking over as your waiter tonight. Your waitress had to leave," he glances at me as if to tell me that I made a good call by stepping out when I did. That's exactly the moment I realize that we're sitting in my section of the diner. Talk about a close call.

Okay, I should get the hard part over for him right? To thank him. I've got this. "Oh, hey, Mike!" I say, "Long time no see."

Poor Mike looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. "Hey... Vi..." he says quietly. Oh, Michael, please don't crap out on me now... I'm going to have to buy this man a cake for carrying me like this.

I smile at him awkwardly, trying to bypass this horrible excuse of an excuse that he and I are about to do horrible improv for. "So, how's Lexi?" I don't dare look a Sal whenever I say the name, but I do feel a shift in the energy at the table. "It's been weeks since I last saw you guys."

"Lexi doesn't work here anymore," Michael spits out nervously, sweat beginning to build on his forehead. Oh no, don't fucking fumble the bag, Mike!

I give him a look. One that has so many emotions and so many questions, but I just force out a simple, "What?" because what else do I say to that? Things are already beginning to go terribly. But it's okay. I'm a pathological liar at this point, and a catfisher? Maybe? Ha... Cat-FISHER.

I'm going to have a panic attack.

Michael pinches his lips together, red-faced as he glances at Sal. I turn my gaze to Sal too, noticing the way he's eyeing Mike like a hawk.

"Lexi is my girlfriend and she doesn't work here anymore." Michael says, his tone brave and assertive, but his facial expression says an entirely different thing.

Great heavens. Okay, so he's radically screwing everything up but that's okay— I'm a flexible person. He's... doing his best. I can work with this. I hope.

I have this image of him and I duking it out in my head. I have him by the collar, shaking him around like a ragdoll while I scream in his face that he's fucking up the plan. And in my mind he's just taking it because he's playing pure sub right now. I'm not even this submissive-- Michael is straight up breaking the BDSM spectrum.

I shove down my nerves and tilt my head at him. "Okay," I start with, slowly, feeling out what little room I have to work with. "I already knew she was your girlfriend," I say, raising my eyebrows even though he can't see. Saying this feels less incriminating for some reason. But I notice Sal snap his head down to the table. I almost feel bad. "But why doesn't she work here anymore?"

Michael looks off to the side, tapping his fingers against the menus in his arms. "Um, she's... she is..." I narrow my eyes at him. He's not even answering the question. I try to communicate with him through eye contact, bellowing at him to not. Fumble. The. Bag.

He gapes at me like a fish, our intense eye contact freaking him out even more. I sigh to myself. He fumbled whatever bag I'm going on about before he even got to our table.

He finally finds his voice after a second and says, "Lexi is working. At a... sperm... bank."

It takes every little inch of my being not to burst into tears. Holy hell. If anything I'm glad he fucked this up because the sperm bank excuse is hilarious no matter how you look at it. Even better is that it's so ridiculous and random that it's going to distract the entire table from the way he's royally screwing up this conversation.

Ash snorts beside me. Larry chokes on his coke. Todd is silent and so is Sal. Maybe the sperm bank thing will officially scare Sal away from Lexi. Yea-- this could work.

"That's a unique job," I struggle to push out, my voice wavering despite trying to forget what Mike just said. But it's hovering in my mind, like old memes from Vine that still make me cackle to this day. I really wish someone would have caught this entire interaction on video.

Michael glances to Sal again. And that's when I turn to find that the bluenette is glaring at my coworker with his arms crossed over his chest, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes. Wow. That's a scary look, one that he hasn't even pulled out on me yet.

Mike is gaping again, trying to get words to, you know, word. I try to help him by saying, "I hope she likes it there! That's a big deal." But the words don't register in his mind. I can tell by the look of terror on his face, his gaze still glued to Sally.

My friend takes another second to gather himself, and right as a syllable leaves his lips-- one that he used his one working brain cell to come up with-- Sal interrupts him. He took perfect advantage of Mike's vulnerability.

"I'm not sorry for flirting with your girlfriend."

My eyes squeeze shut as butterflies slap at the lining of my intestines. This is ridiculous and I shouldn't feel flattered. I tilt my head down for a moment, trying to gather my wits. I figured out everything for Michael and I, but I didn't take Sal's response into account. I didn't think he'd have a response to begin with. I never would have thought he'd come up with this either.

"We'll, um," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat to regain my voice, but my heart is flitting about with excitement. I wish Sal never would have spoken. I look up at Mike, sending him a dismissive smile. "We'll order in a little bit. I'm still not sure about what I want. Thanks, Mike."

I've never seen someone scurry away so quickly before in my life.

"Is Lexi the chick you were trying to see over here?" Larry asks as soon as Michael's gone. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, watching as Sal glares at his step-brother. Yikes...

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom," I say, scooting out of the booth before anyone can stop me. I need to not be here right now. Ash is quick to stand up behind me, grabbing onto my hand. I turn, fearful that she's going to stop me, but she just smiles and juts her head forward, signaling me to keep walking.

I hope she doesn't ask me about Lexi. You couldn't even beat this information out of my dead body.

Ash and I take a singular step toward the bathroom, only to get stopped by my least favorite customer. I just want to die at this point. The stress is not worth anything. Not at all.

I've said before that many of the men that come into the diner are assholes of the patriarchy, the ones that tell me to stop talking and make them a sandwich, or comment about women's bodies. The shit that ticks me off beyond belief.

This man in particular smells like mildew and three years of straight sleep and bad breath. He's also not a looker, mind you. And then he's an asshole on top of it? I hate when my boss sends me to his table.

Even worse is watching him eye me after calling out to Ash and I with the words, "How much do you charge?"

My eyes narrow and the boys go quiet behind us. We're close enough for them to hear, especially for Ophelia to hear behind the bar.

She glances up at me, cleaning a glass and frowning.

I look back at the man. I never bothered remembering his name. "Excuse me, sir?" I ask, confused. I don't want to converse with this dickface.

"You're dressed like a whore so you gotta be selling yourself right?" he continues, a humorless chuckle following the grubby words.

I open my mouth then snap it shut, heat taking over my body. I'm embarrassed, really insecure about myself now, and pissed off. He thinks he can just say shit like this to anyone? What a pathetic joke.

Usually I can't do anything about this man since I'm the one serving him, but he doesn't know who I am and I'm not working at the moment. I can reign whatever hell that I want.

But I'm also exceptionally tired. Tired of this horrible job and little pay. Tired of holding up some persona that's already beginning to crash around me. Just tired.

"I'd rather look like a supposed whore than look like I just stepped out of the dumpster, sir. Have a day," I say dismissively. I don't have time for him and I've said my piece. If I go on any further, I'll get kicked out anyway and I've already given my coworkers enough trouble today.

'Have a day' is my favorite thing to say to customers who piss me off because they don't know if I forgot the 'good' or purposefully left it out. It's ominous and vaguely threatening.

Ash and I go to the bathroom and we don't stay there long. Neither of us talk. She just waits for me, like she knew I needed space but that I also needed her companionship. Just a moment away from the mess. Silence. Which is so much more than appreciated, I can't even begin to explain how much I adore my best friend.

She watches me wash my hands through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest and a content smile on her lips. As we start to walk out, she says, "I'm not sure how long you'll be able to keep up the lie about y/n." and she's right. I'm going to face a dead end soon here. "You're obligated to have a sleepover with me tonight so we can come up with a plan, and so you can answer some major questions I have about you right now. My spidey senses are tingling super hard."

Her hand rubs my back and I nod, smiling thankfully at her. Of course she has questions. My entire presence here is questionable right now.

We resurface next to the bar, but looking up at where our booth is shows that it's empty. I'm about to voice my confusion to Ash, but then I notice Lia running around the bar to get to us.

My eyebrows scrunch together as my coworker stops in front of me, eyes on Ash before they focus on me. She mulls over her thoughts for a moment, gaping just like her boyfriend does. Did the boys do something bad?

"We had to... We kicked Sally Face out," is what she says, shocking both me and Ash.

"What?" Ash asks, startled. "What happened?"

Ophelia blinks at Ash, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "He, uh, he walked up to that... that guy at the bar. Kicked his stool out from underneath him. Then he asked me for a drink. Malibu and pineapple."

Ash sighs and I blink at Lia. I don't even know what to think. Did Sal do that for me? And to ask for my favorite drink on top of that...

No. It's impossible. There's no way he would. He just did it for the sake of feminism. That feminism that is nonexistent when it comes to me. Yea, he definitely didn't do that to avenge me. And he was probably just in the mood for alcohol and pineapple juice right? He could never remember the one drink I ever brought up around him. There's no way.

"Sal doesn't even drink all that much," Ash hisses. "What the hell is he doing?" She bites down on her thumb nail, free hand on her hip.

I swallow down all the emotions building up in me. There are so many that I don't even know how to distinguish a single one right now. This is too much. This entire day is too much.

"Okay," I whisper to myself. "Thanks, Lia," I say gratefully. "And thank Mike for me, too, please. I'm going to get everyone out of here before-- yea." I nod to myself, but it isn't very reassuring.

Lia grabs my hand. "We didn't call the police because that asshole had it coming, but someone else might have. It's better to go now."

I nod again, taking yet another deep breath before guiding Ash to the front doors of the diner. The boys are standing right outside, no doubt waiting for Ash and I.

I feel very similar to the way I did when Sal ended our shit-uationship. I'm so confused and so hopeless, but hopeful. So pained, but relieved. I don't know how to handle the way I feel. I can't work myself out of this awful situation now because he's here. He's here and his hair is billowing softly in the wind, showing off his tattooed neck. And a cigarette is between his index and middle finger as he looks out at the jam-packed street. And then his boot is stomping out the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

The nail in the coffin is when he bends over to pick up the cigarette butt and throw it into the trashcan right outside the diner. He would be perfect if he wasn't such an emotionless prick.

I want to cry. I want to feel him again. I want to shoot him with a paintball gun one more time. I want to run my fingers over all his tattoos. I want him to shiver in fear and pleasure because of me. I hate him so much that it's become obsessive.

I lick my lips as I come to a top in front of my friends, more notably, right in front of Sal.

He turns away from the trashcan behind him, his shoulder-length hair following his movements. When he notices me, he stops and stares disinterestedly. The action is so forced though that it feels like it's hiding something else. Like he doesn't want me to know what he just did in the diner.

I watch him. My eye contact is a threat, a warning, a question, begging. Everything, I try to show him through my gaze.

And then I nod at him subtly despite myself. Even if it wasn't for me, he put that guy in his place and I think that's something to appreciate. But at the end of the day, he still left me upset and he's an asshole so I can't find it in myself to physically tell him thank you. The nod will do.

I turn my attention to the rest of The Faces. "I can make brunch in my apartment if that works with y'all?"

And that's how I've made another mistake today. That's why The Faces are walking down the streets of Los Angeles, my apartment just two buildings away.

There's so much wrong with this decision I've made. I should have never invited them over. What if dad is home? He shouldn't be-- but still. There's so much that could go wrong.

But the walk is going disturbingly well. Ash and Larry ooh and ahh at the streets of Los Angeles— which are normal to me. But I understand the charm too. I was very fond of LA when I first came here.

We walk into my apartment building, everyone speaking a little quieter as we traipse through Lobby. I don't speak, I just listen. And I take it that Todd and Sal are doing the same.

My apartment building is nothing special. It's boring, it's the lowest end of mainstream you can get. It's like a 90's apartment in Manhattan, but make it modern and LA. To put it short, it's the cheapest Dad and I could find here.

Having The Faces step into my territory feels like a time bomb ticking down the last few seconds. It's scary, and it puts me in a vulnerable position. I don't have much of a choice— I'm the one who thought of this idea. And I feel like I owe it to my friends to make them something to eat after they got kicked out of the diner. Not that it was my fault, but it was my customer's fault. I feel guilty for some unreasonable reason.

There's always risk though, and I run through my list of said risks as we take the elevator to my apartment. Being in someone's living space is daring, considering that family stuff is all around. Photos on the wall, artwork with family name's on them, doctor appointments and reminders on the refrigerator. Everything is risky, risky, risky.

Lucky for me, dad and I still haven't quite settled in yet. It's been a year, but we're also both constantly moving around. Dad is in hotels for weeks on end and I work most days. We unloaded and fixed our necessities, but other than that, our walls are bare and nothing of note is on our refrigerator. I should be fine.

We finally empty out into the hallway that leads to my apartment and I have to swallow down the anxiety rushing through me. Nothing has gone wrong and I can only hope that the last leg of this walk will go well for me. I just want one thing to go right today, just one. That's all I'm asking.

I get to my door, I shakily slide my key into the lock, and I open it and let all my friends in, watching their eyes bounce around the living room. I nearly slam the door shut once everyone is safe and inside.

I got my wish. Thank you to whoever granted me a little bit of peace on this unfortunate day.

"You need to get a new carpet."

It's the second time I've heard him speak today. The raspy, monotonous, alto tone of his makes me pause. He wasn't insulting, the way he said that was just commentary. But his voice alone feels like a declaration of war and all the panic and fear I've been enduring for the past— what? Half hour?— is replaced with some kind of desirous agony. Like I've been waiting for him to just... just speak.

"You have a problem with everything, don't you?" I respond, my voice biting into the stale air of my living room. I should've simply asked why he felt that way, but I have reasons. For example, the shit I've put up with today has me on edge. Another reason is Sal bombarding me on all ends without him even realizing it, then being so tense with all these horrible decisions I'm making. I'm really itching for a fight right now and I know I can get it from him. I can practically feel my eyes dilating with the excitement that's ransacking my body at the mere prospect of an argument.

Sal's head turns over his shoulders, body somewhat rigid. One hand in his pocket, the other with the fresh tattoo resting at his side. His eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing me and no doubt wondering who the hell I think I am.

"There's a giant fucking stain on your black carpet," he snaps, gesturing his tatted hand at the light green splatter that dad fussed me for weeks ago. That time I was watching The Faces' Youtube video and spilled my damn mint chocolate chip ice cream. When this entire thing between Sal and I was started. Because he had to go and judge me without getting to know me first. "Be happy I even mentioned it," he mutters, tone clipped.

"You think I didn't notice?" I laugh humorlessly. I wasn't lying when I said he has a problem with everything. Seriously— he just stepped foot into my home and has something negative to say about it. "And why don't you guess who's fault it is that the carpet is stained, huh?" The words rush past my lips, all hardly held back fury and expectation for the worst.

Sal tilts his head in a way that begs me to try him again, then turns his entire body to me. He shuts his eyes and holds up a hand, pausing before saying, "It surely isn't my fault if that's what you're implying." He even adds a snort at the end.

"Actually," I say cheerily, chin up and head high because it's quite literally all his fault that I dropped my ice cream whenever I heard him talking about me all those weeks ago. "Yea it is. I was sitting right there," I point to the edge of the sofa nearest the stained part of the carpet. "While listening—"

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, and I did it to myself. Again.

How could I be so stupid? Here I am, openly and happily about to expose my true identity just to make a point. Just to be right. To win. To gain some catharsis from a meaningless argument.

I snap my mouth shut, swallowing over the relentless pounding of my heart. I blink at Sal who's waiting expectantly for me to finish what I was saying. What do I say? How do I save myself?

My palms sweat, my legs quake. Oh, this is so bad. Is this my real downfall? Is this where I break? It's going to happen. I'm going to pass out or have a psychotic break. Maybe I'm going insane— maybe I've been clinically insane for weeks now. At least I could plead not guilty at my murder trial. I've had a lot of murder on my mind today, haven't I?

But there's a knock at the door and bless the heart of whoever is about to punch my door hinges off. Any other situation and I'd be losing my mind over someone knocking so hard, but my savior is behind this hunk of wood.

I let out a shaky breath and tilt my head downwards, pretending like I'm too fed up to continue my argument. It's perfect. The best excuse.

But Sal's eyes burn into me, the scrutinizing, heavy blue trapping me in my own guilt. A narrow waterway hidden behind the confines of his prosthetic, haunting me day and apparently at night too. I find myself stuck, my gaze piercing his and waiting for something that will never come. I don't even know what that something is.

"Never mind," I grunt, spinning on my heels and taking a singular step toward my door.

I twist the knob, relieved by the silence behind me. No one cares enough to ask what that was about. I escaped... somehow.

And then I swing the door open, gaze up at the last person I expected to see, hear a resounding and excited, "Bitch!" and intellectually (smartest decision I've ever made) slam the door back in their face.

Oh no. Oh no, oh fuck.

I forgot.

____________

A/N:::::: 50K is such a dream come true and i really wish i could find more words to explain how excited and whole i feel. when i first started writing at 13, i was also reading on wattpad and fanfiction.com. I saw all these writers getting so many views and comments about their works, and i wondered if that would be me some day. i worked hard for the first couple years of my writing career and my only reader was my lovely sister (thank you amititty) and i realized that i needed to do something different. i started practicing more, and then i got into fanfiction rather than just fiction. and that's when something changed. i'll never forget the day when maybe today got 1k views-- i cried and wept like a baby for HOURS because it meant the entire world to me. little 18 year old ryver had no fucking clue that we'd get this far. that 1k on my trial book would turn into 50k on the next. i'm in tears typing this right now, in disbelief. every single one of you are my reason for writing, for brainstorming, for getting through my day... i consider you guys in everything i do. all the love in this world-- every ounce of affection, of adoration, of admiration-- does not compare to how special all of you are to me. you are all so dear to me, my friends and penpals that keep me going and remind me that the world isn't all bad, that not everyone is bad. so thank you for following me down this road and i hope we can continue like this. i wish we could all stay this way forever! but maybe, just maybe, i'll get to sign published copies of my books for you guys someday. get to follow through on my dream to hug all of you. there's never a way to tell what the future holds, but i believe it's pretty bright. thank you. i love you all with all the working neurons in my brain and numerous blood cells in my body <333

so about this chapter-- i have been looking forward to it since the very first chapter of this story. a lot of things have changed since then, including the chapter, but i still think the contents are a nice surprise and fucking HILARIOUS >.< i just hope you guys like it too! it was kind of hard to get out because i had all these ideas and images and feelings that i desperately needed to portray perfectly, but some things are just unable to be captured by words. my goal was to get as much as i was feeling onto paper (or computer?), so i hope you guys feel all the fear, desperation, and admiration going on! i deleted, retyped, and deleted again so many scenes and parts of this. and jesus christ this is an exceptionally long author's note MY BAD

anyway, as always, you guys own my heart and i love you to infinity and beyond!! i'll link pictures of y/n's red dress and sal's tattoo below <3

p.s. i have an announcement coming soon! nothing big, but i am trying something new so stay turned :3

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic

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rainisawriter · 6 months

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A Halloween Miracle – Ice (PSF #16)

PSF Ficography | H&F Flash Ficography

Genre: Fluff, romance, slice of life

Prompt: Wearing each other’s clothes (@flufftober) / Dare: Make a donation to the food bank (@slumberpartybingo Fall Flash)

Word Count: 5,228

Pairing: Reader x Ice

World: High&Low

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You checked your reflection in the mirror again, biting your lip nervously. It wasn’t your first date with Ice yet it felt as if it was. How could you not feel at least a bit self-conscious with him, though? He was such a beautiful man with an incredible, and expensive, sense of fashion.

Not to mention how strong he is or how much money he has. You were his complete opposite. Fashion meant nothing to you and you were perfectly happy just wearing loose, comfortable clothing. You never spent more than fifty bucks on an article of clothing, not just because it felt wrong, but also because you didn’t have that kind of spare cash to blow.

Ice oftentimes tried to buy you things but you always told him no. You felt wrong accepting gifts from him, especially since he seemed to choose the most expensive gifts possible. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were a gold digger, just dating him for his money.

You even insisted on paying your half of the bill when he took you out to dinner, something that really frustrated him. He knew you worked hard for your money and that it was always tight for you, yet you insisted on paying.

The first time you had gone out together, he had chosen an expensive restaurant and you ended up not having enough to pay for your half. It was one of the most embarrassing nights of your life and you still hate thinking about it.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your keys and headed outside to wait for Ice to arrive. The cold autumn air curled around you like a blanket, bringing goosebumps to your skin and a smile to your face. Autumn was your favorite time of year and you loved the cold.

Ice’s black Bentley pulled up to the curb and he stepped out, smiling when he saw you. “Hey, baby,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to your cheek before leading you to the passenger’s side, pulling the door open for you. As soon as you were safely inside, he closed the door and returned to the driver’s seat.

When you first met Ice, you saw how viciously he fought, how cruel he could be. You never would have imagined that he could be such a gentleman, that he could be so soft and kind to you.

“Where do you want to go?” He questioned, taking your hand in his, fingers lacing together.

You bit your lip, knowing how drastically your interests were. A good date to him was an expensive restaurant before heading to the club to party. A good date to you was staying indoors and watching a movie or going for a walk together at the park.

He waited patiently for you to answer, rubbing his thumb against your hand.

“Can we… visit the autumn fair?” you asked softly.

“Sure.” He pressed a kiss to your hand before putting the car in park and pulling away from the curb. Music was playing softly in the background, the heater turned on low to stave off the chill.

You shifted against the leather seat, turning your gaze to the window as the city passed by in a blur of silver and orange. It didn’t take long to reach the fair and the place was packed, mostly with families and their kids. You felt guilty forcing him to come here and it honestly made you feel a bit childish.

As you climbed out of the car, you offered him a sheepish smile. “If you don’t want to be here, we can go somewhere else…?”

Ice just smiled, putting his arm around your shoulders and tugging you against his side. “Nah. I haven’t been to a fair in years, it’ll be a nice change.”

“Are you sure?”

His dark eyes met yours, fingers pushing your chin up so he could claim your lips. “Positive, baby.”

You nodded, a smile slipping onto your face. He let you take the lead, following you around as you bounced from one ride to the next, tackling each game booth that they had. You weren’t very good at them, not once winning a prize, but Ice dominated each one, allowing you to choose the item you wanted.

The loud sounds of the rides along with the sea of people was enough to cover the soft thunder above, the night sky slowly filling with dark clouds. Though it felt as if you had been there for only a few minutes, several hours passed by and the fair was getting ready to close. Most of the families had already cleared out, leaving only couples and groups of teens.

The wind was picking up, the temperature dropping as rain approached. Despite loving the cold, you were starting to shiver. You regretted not wearing your hoodie, but you worried Ice wouldn’t like the way it looked on you because it was baggy and quite old.

He shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils and you smiled, sticking your arms through the sleeves. It was still warm from his body.

“Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I can’t let my baby get sick. Let’s get you home before the rain starts.”

“Okay.” You followed him back to the car, sliding into the passenger seat. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun.”

He quirked a brow at you before returning his eyes to the road. “When are you going to stop thanking me for taking you on dates?”

“At least once more, Mr. Ice,” you grinned, quoting the Pirates of the Caribbean. It was the movie you both watched on your first date, so it held a special place in your heart. It was also just a really good movie.

Ice chuckled, a smile coming to his lips as he thought back to that day. It had started out as a disaster of a blind date, set up by your friend who Pearl was desperately trying to get with. Bernie was supposed to be your date but he got food poisoning at the last minute. Everyone else was busy except for Jesse and Ice, the former flat-out refusing.

Ice didn’t want to go, either, but Pearl was his family and he needed help so the leader agreed.

He honestly didn’t think much of you, at first. Despite being at a club, you were wearing baggy shorts, a hoodie, and sneakers. You had no interest in dancing or drinking and you acted as if you wanted to be anywhere else. He thought you were cute, but you were nothing compared to the hotties he usually pulled.

He expected the night to pass by in awkward silence, but you tried to get to know him, striking up a conversation repeatedly even when it died out. Usually his dates were all over him by now, complimenting his watch, the diamonds in his ears or the chain around his neck. You didn’t care about any of that. Even when he told you that he owned a club and a bunch of expensive cars, you weren’t interested.

When he mentioned his music, though, you became very interested. You had always admired musicians, not just for their talent but for their confidence. They bore their souls for the world to see and they did so proudly despite the fear of rejection. Ice was surprised by just how animated you became when discussing the topic and, as the night wore on, he began to warm up to you.

He offered to take you home when it became glaringly obvious that you no longer wanted to be inside the club. Rather than fawn over his expensive car, you were hesitant to even look at it for fear of somehow messing it up. He thought it was cute how he had to coax you inside, assuring you that it was highly unlikely that you would.

He found himself driving slower than he needed to because he was enjoying spending time with you. You were so different from the people he usually hung around with and it was refreshing to him. He remembers how relieved he had felt when you spotted the sign for the drive-in movie theater. It was playing the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie and you asked him if he would be interested.

You were surprised when he said yes but you certainly weren’t complaining. He was not your type at all, yet you felt drawn to him, drawn to the strong aura he possessed. You weren’t sure why but you felt safe around him, comfortable even. That’s not to say you also didn’t feel nervous, as well, given the extreme differences between you, but he just had this way of making you completely forget about your worries for a time.

“What are you grinning about?” He wondered, quirking a brow at you as he pulled up in front of your house.

“I was just thinking about the day we met,” you replied, sending him a soft smile. “Things didn’t start out too well, but I’m happy with how it ended.”

He smirked, reaching over to grip your chin in his hand. “Just how happy are you, hm?”

“Very,” you breathed out, finding yourself leaning toward him.

“Show me,” he ordered, lips brushing against your own. A sudden clap of thunder rattled the car windows and made you jump, heart racing within your chest. He clicked his tongue. “The rain’s about to start, you should get inside.”

“Right…” You stepped out of the vehicle, heading toward the door with him close behind. You reached into your pocket for your keys only to frown when they weren’t there. You checked your other pocket but they weren’t there either. Dread filled you. “Shit…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost my keys…” you sent him a panicked look and he rested his large hand on top of your head, giving you a calming look.

“You probably dropped them in the car.”

The two of you started back toward the car when the thunder boomed again. The sky opened up, sheets of rain falling down on top of you. You cried out in surprise when the ice-cold water hit you, easily soaking through the t-shirt you wore.

“Get in!” Ice ordered, rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you despite his designer clothes getting soaked. When he finally made it inside, you frowned at the water dripping down his face.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, lowering your head.

“For what?” He quirked a brow at you in confusion.

“You got wet because I lost my keys… and now your seats are gonna be ruined…”

He chuckled, his voice soft. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you see them?”

“Oh, um…” you started to feel between the seats, looking on the floor and reaching beneath the seat but your keys were nowhere in sight. “They’re not here. Oh my god, what am I going to do? My roommate won’t be back until tomorrow night!”

“Hey, calm down,” he called softly, resting his hand against the back of your neck. “You can stay with me tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He started up the car, pulling away from the curb.

The closer you got to his apartment, the more nervous you became. You hadn’t ever been to his place before and now you were gonna be staying the night. You took a few deep breaths, hands clenching and unclenching as you tried to calm yourself down.

The apartment building was just as you expected – a twenty-five-story building that sat in the eastern district of the city. It’s where all the rich people lived and the air just felt different there, though it was hard to explain why.

“Welcome back, Ice-sama.” The old man at the reception desk bowed to him but the male didn’t spare him a glance as he approached the elevator.

You hugged yourself tightly, feeling super uncomfortable between the wet clothes clinging to you, your missing keys and the fear of spending the night at Ice’s place. You were honestly scared that he would expect something from you in return and you just weren’t ready for that.

His apartment was huge, filled with expensive-looking furniture and decorations, most of which were music-themed. “The bathroom is down the hall. Go take a shower and I’ll find you something to wear.”

You swallowed nervously, watching as he disappeared down the opposite hall. You knew you had to get out of these clothes and a warm shower sounded lovely right about now, but were you really okay being naked in his apartment? And he was going to bring you some clothes… what if he decided to join you?

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you entered the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Your hands trembled as you undressed, but you couldn’t be sure if it was because of the cold or the nerves. Probably both.

You slowly slid the clothes off your body, turning on the water so it could warm up.

There was a knock on the door and you tensed, waiting for him to try the doorknob but he didn’t. “Baby, I’m gonna leave the clothes on the table, okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Thank you.” You pressed your ear to the door, listening to his footsteps fade before you cracked open the door, snatching up the clothes before shutting the door again. You showered quickly and started to get dressed.

His scent lingered on the clothes, mixed with the smell of the laundry detergent, and you inhaled deeply, feeling a wave of calm wash over you. You picked up your wet clothes, not wanting to just leave them on the floor.

Ice was sitting on the sofa, changed into grey sweatpants and a black shirt that hugged his body. A towel sat around his neck as he dried his short hair. You assumed there were two bathrooms and he had used the other one.

“Um,” you shifted nervously in the doorway when he looked up at you. “Where should I put these?”

“Here, I’ll take them.” He pulled himself off the sofa, taking the wad of clothes from your hands before disappearing down the hall. He returned a moment later, confused as to why you hadn’t moved. His hand found the small of your back, gently pushing you toward the sofa.

You felt as if you should say something but your mind was drawing blanks, too preoccupied with the rising nerves within your system. He settled down beside you, putting his arm around you to pull you closer.

“I have a surprise for you, baby,” he commented softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You watched curiously as he picked up the remote, turning on the TV. you recognized the music immediately, eyes snapping over to see the menu screen for the Pirates of the Caribbean. A bright smile came to your lips and he could feel the tension leaving your body.

“After our first date, I ordered the limited edition set.”

“Limited edition?” Your wide eyes fell on him, knowing exactly what he meant. “But that thing is like 300 bucks!”

He hummed, fingers brushing against the back of your neck. “It was worth it. I’ll show you the set later, if you want.”

“Please! I was eyeing it for ages but they stopped selling it by the time I saved up enough.” You shook your head, folding your arms over your chest.

Ice hummed again as he pressed play, already knowing what he wanted to do. A soft smile came to his lips as he watched your eyes light up, focused completely on the TV screen. He felt so much love for you in his heart and it felt so foreign to him. He had hated it at first because it scared him, but now he craved more.

He pulled you even closer until you were practically on his lap, arms wrapping around your waist. You leaned into his warmth, head resting on his firm chest.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing against your cheek, feeling your skin grow warm.

“I love you, too,” you breathed out, hands resting over his arms.

You made it through three movies before you started yawning and Ice suggested it was time for bed. He didn’t think twice about sharing the bed with you because you were dating, you had been for a while, but you were nervous as hell.

Truth be told, you were a virgin who had never gone beyond kissing anyone before. You figured Ice was the opposite, having quite a few notches in his belt. That didn’t bother you, it was long before you started dating, but you assumed he had an expectation. How long was too long to date without getting intimate? You knew you weren’t ready but you were afraid he might leave you if you refused him.

Your heart raced within your chest as he led you into his bedroom. The bed was huge, fit for a king, with a plush black and white comforter. As he pulled back the covers, he took notice of how tense you were and a frown tugged at his lips. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” you replied quickly, forcing a smile.

He knew you were lying. He said your name, hand on his hip. “Tell me.”

You shifted nervously under his piercing gaze, mumbling under your breath.

“What?” He stepped closer to you. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

You screwed your eyes shut, fists clenching at your sides. “I-I’m a virgin!”

Ice was both taken aback and confused. He knew you were vastly different from the people he usually dated, but a virgin? He definitely hadn’t expected that. Why were you suddenly bringing it up, though? At first, he thought that you trusted him enough to confide such information to him.

His eyes scanned your tense body, taking in the way your fists trembled slightly, how your eyes remained closed, and the deep frown that marred your face. He knew he was wrong. You weren’t confiding in him, you were worried about it.

“Baby,” he called out softly, closing the distance and resting his hands on your upper arms. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You slowly peeled open your eyes, expecting to see him looking annoyed to some degree, but his eyes were filled with warmth. “You’re… you’re really okay with it?”

“Of course, I am. What kind of person do you think I am?” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he was hurt that your mind had even gone there.

“I’m sorry, I…”

Ice exhaled sharply to calm himself before pulling you into his arms. Despite the tense situation, he felt you relax in his grip. “I love you and I’m just happy spending time with you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but you have to tell me what those things are, understand?”

You nodded, fingers curling around his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let’s get some sleep, okay?” He paused as he considered his words. “Unless you’d like to sleep in the guest room instead?”

“No,” you mumbled against his chest, cheeks darkening. “I wanna stay with you.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Whatever you want, baby.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Sun streamed through the cracks in the curtains and you shifted, eyes fluttering open. You instantly felt the lack of Ice’s presence behind you, his side of the bed cols to the touch. With a yawn, you crawled out of bed to search for him but the apartment was empty. Upon checking your phone, you found a new message from him.

-> Had to go deal with a problem at the club. Stay as long as you want, baby.

You quickly messaged back, telling him that you hoped everything was okay. It felt strange being alone in his apartment and, truth be told, you felt kind of happy that he trusted you around all of his items. He had more faith in you than you had in yourself because you feared you would break whatever you touched.

You glanced at the clock and cursed. It was almost time for your shift at the food bank so you needed to hurry up and get ready. You searched for your clothes, finding them in the laundry room. He had tossed them in the washer but hadn’t turned it on and you didn’t have enough time to do it yourself.

You bit your lip, tugging your phone from your pocket. He still hadn’t responded to you so you hesitated to send another. You knew you had no choice but to wear his clothes if you wanted to get to the food bank on time. If you asked to borrow his clothes but he didn’t reply immediately, only to say no later, it would be awkward as hell when he found out you had done it anyway.

“Damn it,” you cursed, returning to his room.

His closet opened up into the next room, overflowing with fashionable clothes from brands you couldn’t even pronounce. Your eyes scanned the items as you slowly walked through the room, looking for something that was close to your style but also something that didn’t look as if it cost a couple of grand.

You found a basketball jersey that was big on you but super comfortable, along with a pair of jeans that had a hole on the left knee. You assumed they were old and not worth much because of it. They were also big on you and you had to roll up the pant legs so they weren’t dragging against the ground. Securing them with a belt, you nodded in satisfaction before grabbing your shoes and leaving the apartment.

Ice had left a spare key for you on the table so you were able to lock the door behind you.

Taking a deep breath of the cold autumn air, you smiled and started to run down the sidewalk, leaves crunching beneath your feet. Because of how far the food bank was from the upper district, you were three minutes late for your shift.

The other volunteers jumped in surprise when you slammed the door open, breathing heavily as your lungs tried to suck in air. Your side was in stitches, heart beating hard against your ribs and your legs felt like jelly.

“You’re late,” scolded Mako, eyes narrowed and arms folded over his chest.

“S-Sorry!” you quickly bowed to him before rushing over to your station.

“Our doors open in five minutes!” he announced, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. “Remember to be kind. These people are struggling and are hungry. Kind smiles, soft words. Be polite!”

The food bank was a large rectangular building divided down the center. On the right side was the kitchen where the homeless could come and get some freshly made soup to fill their bellies. On the left was the food bank where you worked, handing out groceries to families who couldn’t afford the overly priced items at the store.

Kai, your friend and coworker, leaned toward you with a frown. “How are we supposed to act cheery when we’re nearly out of food?”

“Eh?” You looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“The supply truck was robbed and all the food was taken. We have enough for maybe two days, depending on how many people show up.”

A frown tugged at your lips, a sad feeling settling in your gut. You were forced to push those negative feelings away as the doors were opened and people began to flood the building. You forced a smile as you greeted the woman at the front of the line, trying not to worry too much.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Oi, are you still alive?” Sarah snapped her fingers in front of your face, knocking you from your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you sent her an apologetic look. “What were you saying?”

The two of you were relaxing at the back of the club, far removed from the crowd of people dancing and drinking. The walls were thick enough to block most of the sound, though you could still hear the faint bumping of the bass.

She hummed, sitting back on the couch and crossing her legs. “You’ve been distracted all day. Did you fight with Ice or something?”

“No, of course not!” you replied quickly, holding your hands up as if in surrender. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Honestly, you doubted she would care but you needed to get it off your chest because you couldn’t stop worrying about it. “I work at the food bank downtown.”

She sent you a surprised look which you didn’t notice because you were staring at your lap. She knew you had a job and did odd jobs sometimes for extra cash, something she found strange. She had grown to know Ice well and she had been surprised to learn that he wasn’t taking care of you.

She had no idea that, when you weren’t working, you were volunteering. She briefly wondered if Ice knew.

“The supply truck was attacked and we barely have enough food left for tomorrow. What are we going to do?” You frowned, running your hand through your hair in frustration. “All of us pooled together what little bit of money we had but it didn’t buy much. Donations have gone down a lot this year and I don’t know if we can recover from this.”

Sarah watched as you stood up with a groan, pacing back and forth. This was clearly something important to you but she didn’t even have to ask if you had told Ice. She knew you hadn’t because you feel bad using his money. Even if it was for a good cause, you felt guilty asking him to spend his money for you.

Sarah had no qualms about this, though.

She pulled herself off the couch, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

You gave her a grateful smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you and thank you for listening to me ramble.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Mako looked worried as he approached you, eyes glancing to the storage room behind you. He tugged you away from the line of people, lowering his voice. “How is it?”

You shook your head with a frown. “Not good. We have two loaves of bread, one gallon of milk, three boxes of cereal and a jar of peanut butter. There’s no way we can stretch that out for all of these people.”

Mako scowled in frustration, running a hand through his brown hair. “Shit. Did you call up everyone on that list I gave you?”

“Yes. All of them said they weren’t in a position to help us right now…”

“Of course not,” he huffed, folding his arms over his chest. “We’ve exhausted all of our options. We have no choice but to close our doors for now.”

“But, Mako-san -” You bit your lip, eyes scanning the room full of people that were waiting for their food. “We can’t just -“

“I know!” He snapped angrily, startling the people nearby. He sent them an apologetic look before leaning toward you. “I know that, but we don’t have any choice.” Mako took a few deep breaths before stepping over to the center of the room, clearing his throat. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

The soft voices of the crowd slowly disappeared until the room was silent, everyone staring at him. Your heart ached, the other employees exchanging sad looks because they already knew what he was going to say.

“A couple of days ago, the supply truck bringing us food for the next month was attacked and the food taken. Because of this…” He paused, biting his lip as the crowd shifted nervously, exchanging worried looks.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you tugged it out, seeing your boyfriend’s name on the screen. You tried your best not to sound sad or worried, turning your back to Mako as if that would block the sound. “I can’t talk right now, I’m -“

Ice cut you off. “Come outside, baby.“

“Huh?”

“Trust me.”

With a furrowed brow, you made your way through the crowd, stepping outside. You shivered as the cold wind wrapped around you, but that was the last thing on your mind. You instantly recognized the shiny supercars that sat in front of the food bank and your heart skipped a beat. What were the Mighty Warriors doing here?

The door to Ice’s car opened and he stepped out, eyes locking with yours.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned, watching as the others exited their vehicles and started to direct large box trucks into the parking lot. “What’s going on?”

His hands found your waist, a frown on his lips. “You should have told me.”

“Sarah told you, didn’t she?”

“Yes and I’m glad she did.”

The breath was knocked from your lungs when Bernie opened the back of the truck, revealing boxes upon boxes filled with food items. It was way more than what the food bank usually received in a month’s time.

“Ice,” you breathed out, tears stinging at your eyes. “That had to cost so much, I… I swear I’ll pay you back!”

He scoffed in disbelief. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Huh?” You looked at him in confusion, cheeks darkening when he took you by the chin, leaning his face toward your own.

“You’re mine, baby. Everything I own belongs to you, too. My money is your money and that?” His gaze flickered to the truck before finding yours again with an intensity you had only seen when he was fighting. “That is a small price to pay for your happiness.”

“Ice, I -“

He cut you off with his lips, hand pressing against the small of your back to bring your body against his. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

Mako slowly stepped outside, his eyes wide as he watched the men carrying the boxes inside. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

The comment made you laugh, breaking the kiss. You sent your boyfriend an apologetic look before addressing Mako. “It’s October, Mako-san.”

“I know that,” he huffed, looking a bit embarrassed and intimidated by the large man you were standing next to. “But a Halloween miracle hardly has the same ring to it.”

“That’s fair,” you laughed, turning your attention back to your boyfriend.

He adored the way your eyes sparkled with happiness and love. He knew then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making you happy.

His forehead rested against your own. “Move in with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Eh?”

“I want to live with you,” he explained softly, pulling you into a slow, sensual kiss. “For the rest of my life.”

Your cheeks burned at the implication of the words and you were unable to hold back your smile as you nodded, claiming his lips again.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

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