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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

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PARENT TRAP

A/N: single dad harry is finally here! it took me sooo long to finish this, but its finally done! so i hope you'll like it!

WORD COUNT: 16k

WARNING: sexual content, divorce

SUMMARY: Harry has been crushing on the mother of her daughter's classmate and now that she has divorced, a bake sale finally brings them together.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harlow is excitedly humming along to the music that’s flowing from the radio, her legs dangling from the seat, her curly ponytail bouncing with every move of her head as she follows the beat perfectly. Her daddy keeps glancing back at her through the mirror, his smile stretching wider and wider every time she gets more into the song, turning the ride to school into her own private concert.

The little girl’s love for music is no surprise, seeing that her dad is a musician. Harry introduced her to the magical world of music way before she was even born. When she was a baby, there were only two things that could calm her down and end any tantrum she threw: her daddy’s singing and Stevie Nicks’ singing. All tears dried up in an instant as soon as she heard her favorite songs.

It's the first day of school, Harlow is starting second grade and Harry is letting her out of his hold with a heavy heart, though it’s definitely easier than last year. Summer was filled with adventures, giggles and endless hot days spent together. Thanks to Harry’s flexible work schedule he could prioritize his most precious treasure while school was out, his daughter. Harlow spent two weeks with her mother in Chicago, Harry used that time to work like a maniac and make time for all the summer fun for him and his little princess.

Now everything is back to its usual way, Harlow will spend her weekdays in school and Harry will return to the studio like it’s a nine to five job.

He rolls into the school’s parking lot that’s filled with cars, parents dropping off the kids before heading into the office, so most of them are dressed nicely, while Harry is more on the comfortable side in his light-washed jeans, simple t-shirt and knitted cardigan. He has no reason to show up in a suit to record all day in the studio, staring at the panels, directing whatever singer he is working with for the day.

“Alright, end of show,” he chuckles, turning the radio off and getting out he rounds the car to help Harlow out of her seat.

She is wearing her favorite pink dress with her new sneakers and backpack and Harry’s chest swells with pride as he watches her jump out of the car and twirl around in excitement. They walk to the entrance hand in hand, Harlow asks Harry about what’s gonna be for dinner and he promises her to make her favorite if she’ll be a good girl in school.

Students from first to fourth grade usually gather in front of the building, the teachers wait for them in the morning and they go inside together. Harry spots Harlow’s teacher, circled by a few students already, so he knows it’s time to say goodbye.

Squatting down in front of her he fixes her ponytail and then he gathers her small hands in his big ones.

“I’ll see you in the afternoon, okay?”

“Can we get ice-cream on the way home?” she suggests with a cheeky smile, that never fails to warm Harry’s heart.

“Only if you–”

“If I’m a good girl today, I know!” she sighs dramatically. “I will be good, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” he smiles. “Come here, give me a hug.”

Harlow happily throws her arms around her daddy’s neck as he embraces her in a tight hug, breathing in her sweet scent, he presses a few kisses on top of her head before finally letting her go.

“Have a great day, I love you!” he calls out as Harlow is already walking over to her classmates.

“Love you too!” she sings back with a wave and then she is busy greeting her friends she didn’t see all summer.

Harry stands there for a bit longer, watching his daughter in complete awe. He can’t believe the tiny baby he held in his arms on the day she was born is not such an independent, smart little girl. She’s only seven, but she’s taught him so many things, he’ll be forever grateful for her.

“Dylan, wait!” a familiar, stressed voice hits his ears and looking to his right he is witnessing another morning scene, but it’s definitely different from the one he just got to experience with Harlow.

A boy, who is around twelve years old, dressed in all black with his hoodie covering his head is marching away, but he is stopped by the request from his mother behind him, who is busy with a smaller girl.

Harry knows the woman and the little girl too, because it’s Robin, Harlow’s classmate and her mother, Y/N. He remembers, because she caught his eyes straight away at the first parents’ meeting last year. Y/N is the kind of woman who is always so put together, looks stunning, like the CEO of a very important business, but there’s also an exceptional warmth that lingers around her, that makes Harry think that she is an excellent and loving mother to her kids.

Harry could feel himself crush on her the moment she walked into Harlow’s classroom in her pants suit and took a seat near his. He kept looking her way and felt like a school boy all over again.

This morning however, Y/N looks different. She is still gorgeous, don’t get Harry wrong, but something is off about her. She’s in a simple black dress, her attire is spotless as always, but it appears like she’s lost some weight, there are circles under her eyes and he can tell she’s been going through a stressful period probably.

Dylan, the boy, stops with an eye-roll, but doesn’t face his mother who is currently struggling to get Robin to put on her backpack properly.

“Honey, please! I can’t carry it up to the classroom for you!” Y/N begs and the girl whines before eventually taking the straps over her shoulders. Y/N lets out a relieved sigh, fixing her shirt before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Have a good day, I’ll pick you up after school, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods before running off to join her friends. Y/N then steps over to Dylan. They are standing just a few feet away from Harry, so he can hear their conversation, and though he knows he shouldn’t be listening in on them, he just can’t help it.

“How long are you gonna be grumpy?” she asks, walking around the boy to look at him. She reaches out to fix the zipper on his hoodie, but he yanks away from her touch. Harry sees the hurt on her face, but she is great at masking it.

“Can I go?” Dylan asks, not even looking at his mom.

“Can I get a hug?”

“Mom, no!” he whines. “My friends are over there!”

“And you think they don’t hug their mom?”

“Not in public!” he retorts. Y/N clenches her jaw and decides to just let it go.

“Alright. I’ll pick you and Robin up after school, okay? Have a good day.”

“Bye,” he mumbles and walks over to his group of friends without even looking at his mother.

Y/N stands there and Harry could feel her disappointment and sadness, even as an outsider. It seems like Dylan has just reached the gates of puberty, which came with an immense amount of hate towards his parents, or at least his mother. His heart breaks for her, because something is telling him she did nothing to deserve to be treated like this, but pre-teens are just impossible sometimes.

For a moment he thinks about walking up to her and asking if she’s okay, but right when the thought is about to turn into action, she looks down at her watch and realizes how late it is.

“Oh shit,” she mumbles and turning around she runs back to her car, jumps in and drives away in a hurry.

Harry glances at the kids one last time, they are heading inside and he spots Harlow with Robin. He smiles and then slowly walks back to his car.

Of course, Harlow gets ice-cream when Harry picks her up after school. They stop by the park too and then head home to make dinner. She tells him all about her day and while Harry cooks she is on FaceTime with Frankie, her mom.

Co-parenting is now as easy as breathing air, they’ve been doing it for almost five years now. People tend to find it odd that Harlow lives with her dad and visits Frankie three times a year for longer periods, once in the summer, once in winter break and once in the spring usually. Between these occasions Frankie tends to visit too on weekends whenever she has the time.

She is a doctor, her working hours are crazy and she knew it well when she and Harry decided to part ways. Harry has always been the flexible one and they both knew he would be more stable when it comes to raising Harlow.

They might not be married anymore, but they still have love for each other and want to focus on what matters: Harlow.

“Daddy, here,” she runs into the kitchen with Harry’s phone in hand.

“Thank you, Love. Put it on the table, please. Food is almost ready.”

“Dad, did you and mom get a divorce?” she asks, taking her usual seat at the dining table, waiting for her dinner patiently. Harry stops for a moment, afraid where this might go, but he promised himself to always be honest with her.

“Yes. Years ago. Why?”

“Robin said her parents got a divorce too.”

His ears perk up, remembering the scene he witnessed this morning. He grabs two plates and pills them with pasta.

“Really? Is she sad about it?”

“Kind of. She’s just sad her dad moved out. She said her brother wanted to live with him, but their mom didn’t let him.”

“Hmm, I’m sure she has her reasons,” he says, placing the food on the table as he joins her. “So they are living with their mom now?”

“Yeah. Their dad visits every second weekend.”

“That sounds great.”

A divorce would very well explain the change he noticed about Y/N. The weightloss, the stress on her face, the circles under her eyes, it must have been challenging, managing a divorce and adjusting to becoming a single parent. Harry can’t help, but wonder what resulted in the end of her marriage.

“Be nice to Robin, okay? She is going through a tough time,” he softly says.

“We’re friends,” Harlow smiles proudly.

“You are? That’s great,” he smiles back and leaning over he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

That night, when Harlow is sleeping Harry can’t help but let his curiosity take over. Sitting by his desk he pulls up the list of Harlow’s classmate’s names the teacher sent out last year and he looks up Robin’s name, her mom’s name and phone number next to it. Every parent got this list for emergencies, but Harry now uses it for something entirely different.

He types Y/N’s name into the search bar and scrolls through the results. Not everything is relevant, but a few links down he finds an article from last year that mentions her name and when he opens it he is met with a photo of her, so he knows he is at the right place. Harry finds out that she is an architect and she worked on some quite prestigious projects in the past, she is obviously good at what she is doing.

He falls down the rabbithole and looks up anything he can find about her. She has an introduction page on her company’s website, then he finds himself hopping over to social media and though it takes some time, he manages to find an Instagram page that, for his luck, is public. There are just a handful of photos from the past six years, but Harry thoroughly examines them all.

Y/N with a group of her friends, old pictures of Robin from when she was a toddler, but her face is never revealed, Dylan is seen in some too, there are some pictures of a lake and the same two dogs a few times and Harry wonders if they are hers or maybe a relative’s. A couple of selfies where she looks just as gorgeous as now and then there are the pictures with her husband.

Or ex husband, to be exact.

There are only three pictures, one at what appeared to be a wedding, one at some kind of dinner and one with the kids. It’s the last one where he is pictured and it’s from over a year ago. No trace of the man since then, and she doesn’t have a lot of other photos either, she hasn’t updated her profile in what appears to be months.

Harry is not quite the nosy type, but this time, he is dying to know more about Y/N and the lack of information is eating him away. He goes back and forth between the pictures where she can be seen and the longer he is staring at them the more he wants to know.

He is not an expert in social media, so as he is stalking her profile he accidentally taps on the follow button and when he realizes, his stomach drops.

“Fuck,” he breathes out and his first instinct is to unfollow her, but he knows that she probbaly has the notification sitting on her lockscreen, so there’s no use. At last, he just curses himself out and accepts it.

To stop himself from making it worse, he goes offline and gets ready to go to bed so he doesn’t feel like absolute shit in the morning. His phone lies discarded on his nightstand in the meantime and he doesn’t notice the new notification until he is in bed and wants to set an alarm for the morning. He’s surprised to see a notification from Instagram about a new follower.

Y/N has followed him back.

Reuniting with Harlow in the afternoon is Harry’s favorite part of the day. Seeing his little girl running towards him and jumping into his arms is something he wishes to experience every day for the rest of his life, though he knows these occasions are numbered so he is drinking up every moment of it.

Today is no different, Harlow starts sprinting towards Harry the moment she spots him, a toothy grin stretched across her rosy cheeks as she practically smashes against her daddy.

“Hi dad!” she giggles as he lifts her up from the ground easily, holding her in one arm, his free hand taking her backpack off her shoulders. He doesn’t notice, but some moms around them yearningly watch as he holds his daughter with ease, some are having gentle thoughts about their father-daughter bond, but some are definitely hiding dirty fantasies about the single dad who is a well-liked figure among the mothers. Most of the time Harry doesn’t even process the stares he gets, and when he does, he chooses to ignore them.

“Hey Princess, how was your day?” he asks, carrying her towards the car.

“Good. How was your day?” she asks back.

“I missed you,” he sighs dramatically, earning a kiss on the cheek from the girl in his arm.

“Do you just sit around all day and miss me?” she sassily asks and Harry barks out a laugh as he puts her down so she can climb into the car.

“That’s exactly what I do while you’re at school,” he grins, strapping her in before taking his seat behind the wheel.

“Oh, I have news for you, dad,” Harlow announces, as they are slowly inching their way out of the full parking lot.

“Yeah? Tell me!”

“We’re having a bake sale soon and I signed you up!”

“Oh, wow!” he smiles. He doesn’t mind helping out and baking is actually a hobby of his.

“And this year parents are pairing up for it so I signed you up with Robin’s mom!” she adds and Harry almost steps on the break hearing this little detail.

“Robin’s mom? Really?” he asks with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” she nods, oblivious to why her dad is so shocked about it.

Harry thinks about how he followed her on Instagram the other day, the panic he felt and then seeing her follow him back even though they haven’t really talked, he faintly remembers them exchanging a few words at a parents’ meeting, but nothing more. Now they will have to bake together.

It will either go painfully awkwardly, or something good might come out of it. He’ll have to wait and see.

He is in the studio when he gets a text from a number he doesn’t recognize. He sees the screen lighting up, but he is in the middle of a session so he discards it until they go on a short break. When he finally has the time to have a look at it, excitement rushes through his veins.

UNKNOWN: Hey! It’s Y/N, Robin’s mom from Harlow’s class. Apparently we were signed up together to bake for the bake sale. Maybe we could meet up for a coffee sometime to plan out what we’re gonna do!

Harry is quick to type a response back.

HARRY: Sure! I’m flexible, whenever it’s good for you, I’ll make it work!

He doesn’t expect a fast reply since he didn’t answer straight away and he imagines she’s busy at work, but his phone lights up just seconds later.

Y/N: Great! :) Tomorrow at one?

HARRY: Perfect. :)

They exchange a few more texts about the place and then the conversation ends, they both go back to their day. And Harry is looking forward to meeting her as if it was Christmas coming up.

It’s not a date.

He keeps reminding himself, but it feels like he is getting ready for a date. The first one in what feels like a century. It’s also his first crush, dating and pursuing women in general hasn’t been on his agenda since before he started dating Frankie, which was over a decade ago. Even after his marriage ended, he was so focused on Harlow and his work that he simply didn’t have time to meet women and go out on dates.

But this is not a date.

He is just meeting a woman for coffee to talk about baking.

He leaves the studio a little earlier than needed so he is not late. The café they chose is near Y/N’s workplace, since she only has an hour to spare before she needs to be in a meeting. Walking in he scans over the menu and orders a simple black coffee along with two muffins before taking a seat at a table.

Y/N arrives not even five minutes later. She strolls in wearing a blue pants suit, her purse in one hand, phone in the other as she looks around and eventually spots Harry.

“Hi! Have you been here for long?” she asks, checking the time, but she arrived perfectly on time.

“No, just a few minutes,” Harry smiles at her standing up from the table to greet her, though there’s a pause as neither of them knows how to. Handshake? Kiss on the cheek? Hug?

At last they meet for a short, kind of half hug before she sets her purse down on the other chair.

“I’ll get a coffee and then we can talk.”

Harry watches her walk up to the counter, she asks for a latte and then types away on her phone while waiting. She looks a tiny bit more collected than the last time he saw her, but he can tell she’s had less stressful days before. When she returns to the table she places her phone facing down and turns all of her attention to Harry.

“Harry, I’ll be honest with you, I’m terrible at baking,” she admits first thing with a chuckle.

“Well, then we might be a great duo, because I’m actually pretty good at it.”

“Oh, then you’re my hero,” she chuckles. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t the happiest when Robin said she signed me up, life has been… a bit hectic lately, baking stands after the last thing on my list,” she huffs. “But I’m glad I don’t have to do it alone,” she adds with a small smile.

“It’ll be fun! The girls can have a playdate in the meantime.”

“Ah, that would be amazing,” she sighs in relief. “When is the bake sale?”

“Um, on the tenth, in two weeks, I think.”

“Alright, I guess we should make everything fresh, right?”

“That would be ideal,” he nods.

“Great. Would you mind it if we did it at my place? I don’t have anywhere to put my son and I really don’t want to leave him home alone,” she sighs.

“Sure, no problem.”

“I promise I have everything we need despite my poor baking skills,” she jokes. “But Dylan is…”

“Y/N, no need to explain. I’m happy to go over so you don’t have to worry about him.”

“Thank you.”

They discuss what they plan to bake and what ingredients they’ll need and how they will split the shopping part. Harry finds it that Y/N is easy to talk to and she tries her best to be flexible and work together with him the best way possible.

“Okay, so muffins, chocolate chip cookies and brownies it is. We’re playing it safe,” she chuckles, summarizing their plan. “Gosh, muffins used to be Dylan’s favorite, but I feel like he would scream at me if I gave them any,” she huffs and Harry notices the sadness that flashes through her face.

“Um, I’m not trying to be nosy and we practically just met, but Harlow mentioned that Robin told her you just got divorced? I’m sure it’s been a tough time and I’m sorry too, going through a divorce is challenging even if you part ways in peace.”

The smile fades from her lips as she looks down at her drink with a tiny nod.

“You’re divorced too?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

She stays silent and stares into her drink that’s half empty by now. Folding her arms over her chest she lets out a shaky breath.

“Does it get better?” she asks and there’s so much behind those simple words and Harry can feel the weight of them. Harry reaches over and places a warm hand on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It does. I know it seems like you’re stuck now, or even going backwards, but you’ll get through it.”

Their eyes meet and hold each other’s gaze for a few heartbeats and in that moment they both leave that café and enter somewhere safe and hopeful. Then the barista calls out someone’s name for their order and the moment is gone. Harry clears his throat and busies himself with his empty cup before they venture to another, lighter topic.

They sit around for a little longer, just like two friends talking over a nice coffee, but then it’s time for Y/N to go back to the office.

“Harry, it’s been so nice! I’m not really friends with any of the moms from Robin’s class, but I feel like we’ll be a good team,” she smirks as Harry opens the door for her and they step out of the café.

“I’m not really friends with anyone either,” he smiles softly.

“What? I thought moms are fighting for your attention,” she barks out a laugh, but Harry just furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head as he looks back at her. “Come on, you’re known as the hot dad around school grounds.”

His eyebrows raise at her blunt comment and she realizes he’s been truly oblivious to the stares and whispers behind his back from mothers that don’t get what they want from their husband.

“Oh wow, sorry, this is awkward now,” she chuckles nervously, realizing it might have been weird to hear it.

“No worries, I was just… not aware that I’m even known,” he chuckles.

“You haven’t noticed the stares? Mothers ogle you like crazy whenever you pick Harlow up.”

“I’m usually more focused on her,” he admits bashfully. “So I’m the hot dad. Good to know.”

It’s obvious that Y/N feels awkward that she was the one who delivered the news to him, but Harry finds it cute, the way she bites into her bottom lip.

“I really need to get back now. I’ll see you soon, I guess,” she switches quickly, checking the time.

“Sure, have a great day, Y/N,” he smiles and he pulls her into a short hug before they part ways.

Harry thinks about how it felt like when she was pressed up against his chest, even if it was just for one second.

“Okay, I might have gone a little overboard with the decoration,” Harry admits, as Y/N is inspecting the millions of sprinkles, candies and chocolate chips on the counter, laughing happily like a little kid.

“No, this is amazing!” she chuckles. “They will turn out amazing!”

Harry blushes and he’s glad she doesn’t find it weird how overboard he went with the shopping. He’s been looking forward to their work together, mostly because he couldn’t wait to see Y/N again, but he was also excited about the baking part.

Harlow and Robin are in the living room, watching The Little Mermaid and playing, Dylan is hiding somewhere in his bedroom and the adults are taking over the kitchen. Y/N is in a more casual outfit, but she still took his breath away when she opened the door and welcomed them. In a pair of loose jeans and a simple, gray sweater, she still looks incredibly stylish and put-together.

“Alright, you’re the boss today, I’m just assisting,” she smiles, one hand on her hip, the other one on the counter. Harry thinks about how badly he wants to grab her by her waist and pull her in for a kiss, so he gulps hard, forcing himself to focus on the baking.

“Okay. Then let’s start with the cookies.”

They find their rhythm easily, Harry is moving around in her kitchen as if it’s not his first time here and Y/N does everything he asks her perfectly. They are, indeed, an amazing team. While they work they talk and laugh and have a blast, as if they’ve been good friends since forever.

When it’s time to decorate they ask the girls to help them and they happily cover everything in sprinkles, going all out with the supplies Harry bought.

Once everything is done, they box them up so they can easily take them to the school tomorrow. It’s still not too late and the girls are having so much fun that the parents decide to let the playdate last a little longer, so they share some iced tea and have a chat sitting by the kitchen island. It’s all fun and joy until Dylan comes down to drink something. He marches into the kitchen, ees glued to the ground, ignoring everyone else as he walks over to the fridge.

“Dylan, say hi to Harry. You didn’t even come down to greet our guests,” Y/N tells him, earning the most annoyed groan Harry has ever heard.

The boy stops and turns around standing like a stone, clearly irritated that someone even said a word to him.

“Hi,” he grumbles before turning back to the fridge right away to grab himself a can of coke.

“Dylan, no coke after six, you know the rule,” Y/N warns him, to which he just tosses the can back and slams the fridge shut.

Harry can feel the tension spiking and he’s quietly observing the scene in front of him.

“Drink some water, or there’s some tea left in the–”

“I don’t want tea or water, I want coke!” he whines. “Dad lets me drink coke whenever I want!”

“Well, then I’ll need to have a chat with your father,” Y/N comments under her breath. “Water, Dylan. Drink water,” she repeats, the boy rolls his eyes and grabs a bottle of water before storming out of the kitchen. “God, this is a disaster, I’m sorry,” she groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“No need to apologize. You both are going through a tough time.”

“But it feels way worse than what I was expecting. I knew it would be hard, but… And Will is absolutely no partner in the process, he is trying to play the victim, like I’m the monster for destroying our family when he is the one who fuck three women in the past two years.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the blunt information about her marriage and though he never met this Will guy, he knows he is a total idiot. He has to be if he cheated on a woman like Y/N with three different women.

“Wow, that sounds… awful,” Harry admits truthfully. “How did you… May I ask how you found out?”

“He accidentally paid for a romantic getaway with the wrong card and I saw everything he paid for, the hotel, the food and drinks and of course, the couple's massage. He was supposed to be at a conference that weekend. I did some digging after that and then confronted him. He tried to deny it, but it’s hard to play innocent when I have proof. He moved out the next day and I filed for a divorce a week later. This was in January, but it got official in the summer.”

“What took so long?”

“He’s been a real bitch about it,” she rolls her eyes. “He really tried to make it look like I threw him out heartlessly and he was convinced he deserves a second chance. Maybe I would have considered it if it was just a one time thing. But it was several women on several occasions. This was not just a slip up, he came home these past two years knowing damn well that he chose to do this. Of course I don’t want anything to do with him after that.”

“Understandable,” Harry nods in agreement.

“Well, he thinks otherwise and it’s been his hobby to make me miserable. We agreed not to tell the kids what he did, I don’t want them to turn against him, he’s still their father, but apparently, Will is not mature enough to do the same. He’s been trying to lure the kids closer to him and away from me, so he is the ultimate good cop. He lets them do anything and everything, pizza for breakfast, candies all the time, he takes them to every damn movie they wanna see, and then I’m the bad one who tries to regulate their fun.”

“I assume Dylan prefers to be with his dad.”

“Of course,” she rolls her eyes again, clearly frustrated over the situation, but there’s not much she can do about it. “I’m suddenly the enemy. Dylan only knows that we decided to get a divorce, but he doesn’t know why. All he experiences is his dad being the coolest guy ever and his mom being a bitter bitch,” she groans and looking down at her drink she obviously wishes it had alcohol in it. “Sometimes I just wanna tell him how big of an asshole his dad is, but I’m really trying to be the bigger person here,” she sighs.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” is all Harry could say.

“It’s not your fault,” she shrugs with a soft, but tired smile. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“You’re divorced as well, right? How did that go?”

“Oh, it was surprisingly peaceful. It was a mutual decision, we fell out of love. If I’m being honest, we rushed into that marriage way too fast.”

“So you’re on good terms?”

“Yeah. We try to make it work, focus on Harlow and what’s best for her.”

“That must be amazing, being partners even when you’re not married anymore,” she sighs dreamily. “I never thought I would say something like this, but I’m jealous of your divorce!” she chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’ll get easier. He can’t be an asshole forever, it’s too tiring,” he jokes.

“Oh, you don’t know Will. Being an asshole is in his genes,” she snorts with a laugh.

The bake sale is always a big success and this is Harry’s first time as a seller. Now that Y/N has pointed it out for him that other moms usually ogle him, he can actively feel the stares on him, so it could easily be an awkward event for him, but he is focusing on Y/N next to him behind their little stand. Their baked goods are selling great, especially the brownies, so they clear their stand in no time, just lingering around, socializing with the other parents though when no one is listening they agree that it’s not really their crowd.

“Maybe we should open a bakery,” Harry jokes as they are packing up their stand at the end of the bake sale.

“You should, but I’m not sure I should leave my career for baking,” she chuckles.

“What are you talking about? You were great at measuring the ingredients,” he smirks, bumping his hip against his.

“Alright, okay, I’ll join you,” she smiles bashfully.

Harry helps with the now empty boxes, loading them into Y/N’s car and they call out for the girls who are running around in front of the building, letting them know it’s time to leave. All he can think about is how this could be the last time he is seeing Y/N for a long time and that he wants to spend more time with her. If he had the guts he would ask her out, but he’s not even sure if she’s ready to date or even wants to date at this point.

“Um, maybe we could have playdates more often. The girls seem to be good friends,” Harry suggests, glancing over at Robin and Harlow, who are making their way towards the cars, still playing around happily.

“Sure! That sounds great, I’m sure they’ll be happy to spend more time together,” she nods smiling.

“And you know, if you need help with anything, you can call me. I know how hard it is to do it all alone, I’m happy to help, even if it’s just maybe picking Robin up. I’m always the one getting Harlow, it’s no big deal if I take them both.”

“Really?” she asks and he can see the gratitude in her eyes.

“Of course.”

“That would be… amazing, thank you!”

She surprises him with a warm, friendly hug and he can feel that they’ve just gotten closer to each other in every kind of way. It’s a tiny, fleeting moment, but it burns into Harry’s memories probably forever.

They don’t talk for a couple of days, carrying on with their separate lives. It’s about a week later when Y/N calls Harry in the middle of the day, luckily, he can pick it up right away.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, leaning against the wall in the studio’s hallway.

“Hey, um…Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, of course!”

“Can you pick Robin up today? I have a little situation with Dylan and I’m not sure I’ll make it in time to pick her up.”

“No worries, but is everything alright?”

“Not really,” she sighs. “He got into a fight today and Will picked him up, because I couldn’t answer the phone when the school called me, so I need to get him now from his father.”

“Oh, I see. Don’t worry about Robin, the girls will be just fine while you focus on Dylan. Do you want me to drop her off at yours when you’re home?”

“No, I’ll just pick her up, don’t want you to drive her around, you’re already doing me a huge favor.”

“You sure? It’s no problem.”

“Positive,” she chuckles softly. “Thank you Harry.”

Harry wishes it wasn’t an emergency that connected them again, but he’s glad Y/N felt safe enough to reach out to him when she needed help. When he’s done with work he heads to the school as usual, but this time, two little chatty girls end up on the backseat of the car.

“Is Robin sleeping over tonight?” Harlow asks in excitement.

“No, Honey. Her mom will pick her up later.”

“Why couldn’t she pick me up?” Robin asks, but she doesn’t seem disappointed that her mother was absent.

“Something came up, but everything is alright, don’t worry. You guys can work on your homework together.”

The girls are being angels, Harry cuts some apples for them while they work on their homework by the kitchen island while he starts preparing for dinner. He has just set the table when he sees a car pulling up on their driveway and Harry watches Y/N walk up to their front door.

“Hi,” he greets her, opening the door for her before she could even ring the doorbell.

“Hi, I hope it’s not too late,” she breathes out, stepping inside.

“No, don’t worry about it. The girls finished their homework, we were just about to have dinner, want to stay?”

“Would love to, but Dylan is in the car and I’m not sure I can get him out of there,” she sighs, shaking her head. “But thank you so much for everything, Harry. You saved me.”

“No problem, I told you, I’m happy to help.”

Robin says goodbye to Harlow and Y/N grabs her backpack as they head out to the car. She runs ahead while Y/N turns back to Harry one last time.

“Dylan is spending the weekend with Will. Maybe we could meet up with the girls? We like to go to the park on Saturday.”

“That sounds amazing,” Harry nods, excited to have the opportunity to see her again soon.

“Okay, then I’ll text you later. And again, thank you,” she repeats herself before pulling him into a quick hug. He doesn’t even have the time to put his arms around her before she’s already jogging towards the car.

He leans against the doorframe and Harlow runs up next to him, waving at them as the car backs out of the driveway, Dylan sitting in the back with the most hurt look Harry has ever seen while Robin is happily waving back at her friend. Y/N smiles at Harry through the window one last time before they roll down the street and disappear.

“Here,” Harry softly hands Y/N her coffee as he returns to the park from the café across the road.

“Thank you, how much–”

“Don’t even try to pay me back,” he chuckles as he sits on the bench beside her, taking a sip from his simple, black coffee. The girls are taking over the playground, it’s a beautiful day and Harry is glad Harlow can spend so much time outside.

“So, do you want to talk about what happened this week?” Harry carefully asks. He doesn’t want to be nosy, just trying to be the support Y/N might need, though he is also dying to know more about her, regarding anything in her life.

Y/N exhales slowly, her eyes following the girls around as she fidgets with the lid of her coffee cup.

“Dylan apparently got into a fight at school. No one really saw what happened, the teacher just caught him punching another boy. He was sent to the principal and then they tried to call me to pick him up, because they decided to send him home for the rest of the day. But I was in a meeting and couldn’t answer, so they called Will. He then went in, the principal told him what happened and that Dylan might have to see the school’s advisor a few times after the incident. Will then took him home and when I called him on my way from work he basically said that I’m a terrible mother, because I wasn’t available when my son needed me.”

Harry can feel his anger rising, but he bites his tongue and lets Y/N finish before he puts in his two cents.

“It was just thirty minutes. Thirty minutes later I was already sprinting out of work, I don’t think that’s too late, of course I can’t drop everything instantly, I have a job and a boss, I can’t just come and go whenever I want to!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N.”

“Right?” She sighs. “Anyway, I went to Will’s, fully prepared to have a talk with Dylan about his actions, I had a little speech ready and all that. Then I arrived and I ended up being lectured! This… fucker… had the nerve to lash out on me for not answering the phone when the school called me, he was praising himself for dropping everything instantly and picking Dylan up right away. It’s easy to do that when you’re your own boss in a business that barely makes any profit,” she scoffs. “We got into a fight, Dylan heard most of it and all he understood was that I apparently made a mistake so now he wants to spend every weekend with Will.”

“Can he do that? I mean, don’t you have an agreement?”

“I was stupid enough not to limit how much Will can see them, I thought I was doing the right thing, but it’s biting me in the ass.”

“So what are you gonna do now?”

“I have no idea,” she chuckles bitterly. “If I keep Dylan away from his dad he’ll just hate me more. But if I let him spend more time with him, the same thing will happen, because Will is working harder than the devil to turn him against me. It’s an impossible situation.”

“Has he always been this close with his dad or is it just the divorce that brought them together?”

“I always had a feeling Will prefered Dylan over Robin. Which is just fucked up, you don’t choose between your kids. But he never really knew how to deal with a girl, so he spent more time with Dylan. They both like playing video games, so they’ve been bonding over that lately. I guess Dylan feels closer to him because they have more in common and he always looked up to Will. I never thought this would turn out as a disadvantage.”

She looks down at her coffee, deep in her thoughts before taking a sip and finally turning to face Harry.

“It’s such a mess, right? I’m a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Y/N. You’re doing everything you can to get through it, so don’t blame yourself. Will should grow up and be your partner for the sake of the kids.”

“We haven’t been separated for a whole year, but I can’t even believe we were once married,” she groans, her head falling back for a moment. Then, as if she realized something, she looks at Harry. “I’m sorry for always dumping my drama on you, this must be annoying.”

“Y/N, I asked you,” he chuckles. “I’m happy to listen, to help, anything you need.”

“You’re such a nice man, Harry,” she sighs. “I’m sure you haven’t been having any problem with dating since your divorce.”

“There’s no problem, because I don’t really date,” he admits with an awkward chuckle.

“What?” her eyes widen. “You’re just joking, right?”

“No,” he shakes his head with a shrug. “It’s not really my priority. I spend most of my free time with Harlow, I just… never got around to get myself out there, I guess.”

“But do you want to?”

“Ideally, I don’t want to be alone forever. I’m not against dating, I’m just not looking actively.”

“Hmm… I get it. It’s just shocking that women are not throwing themselves at you everywhere you go,” she snorts out a laugh before taking another sip from her coffee.

“Because I’m the hot dad?” he jokes.

“Well, duh!” she laughs.

“You keep calling me hot, I might think that you’re into me, Y/N.”

She almost chokes at his comment, which just entertains him even more, he likes how nervous she got over his comment.

“I-I’m not trying to– I mean you’re… Oh God.”

“Relax,” he laughs, placing a hand on hers for a moment. “I was just messing with you.”

“God, I hate you,” she chuckles, bumping her shoulder against his.

“I hope you don’t, because I actually like you.”

There’s a switch in the conversation thanks to Harry’s little confession, but he just couldn’t keep it in any longer. She seems surprised, but pleasantly at his words, staring back at him with wide eyes.

“It’s hard not to like you,” he adds with a shy smile. “And if you think I’m the hot dad then I can admit that you’re a hot mom.”

“Oh my God, you’re gonna make me giggle like a little girl,” she laughs, covering her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t bite my tongue any longer,” he chuckles, looking down at his hands in his lap. “Just thought I would share. I’m not expecting anything to change, I know you have enough on your plate now.”

“I like you too, Harry,” she admits and his heart is soaring. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to take this step with anyone at the moment.”

“I completely understand. I’m happy to be just friends,” he reassures her kindly. She smiles at him with gratitude in her eyes, this moment means a lot to both of them in many different ways.

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the girls play around the swings and then she’s the first one to speak up.

“Did we just admit that we’re crushing on each other?” she asks with a grin.

“I guess so, yeah,” he nods, mirroring her expression.

“This felt like middle school all over again.”

“You want me to pull your hair?” he teases her, making her laugh out loud.

“Ah, I’m okay without that, thank you. But it was… refreshing. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“Glad I could be the one who brought the feeling back to you,” Harry smiles at her sweetly, bumping his shoulder against hers.

They fall into a rhythm. Constantly texting throughout the day, sharing pictures randomly, helping each other out whenever it’s needed, their bond strengthening along the way. It’s not just Y/N’s messy situation they talk about, but anything and everything.

And Harry can feel himself falling.

He’s patient, though. He knows he needs to wait and let Y/N heal and figure things out before she could get back to dating and when that moment finally comes, Harry will be there waiting for her.

She truly surprises him when she takes the first step out of the friend zone.

“So, what are you doing this weekend?” she asks when they are randomly talking on the phone one evening. Originally, Y/N called to ask for some help with homework, because Robin didn’t remember what exactly needed to be done, but it soon turned into some private chit-chatting.

“Not much, Harlow is having a sleepover at my mum’s, so I’ll be alone for most of the weekend.”

“That’s great, because my kids are gonna be away too, so I thought we could do something that doesn’t include a playground, homework or kids meal,” she chuckles and just the sound of it brings a smile to Harry’s face. Harry is about to answer when she adds at last: “It could be a date.”

“A date?” he breathes out.

“Yeah. If you want it to be. It’s fine if we just hang out as friends, I don’t–”

“It’s a date,” he reassures her and he can almost feel her relief over the phone.

“Great.” Harry knows she’s smiling on the other end of the call, he can tell.

“Alright, then I’ll plan everything out. Saturday?”

“Saturday sounds amazing.”

Harry wants this date to be as perfect as possible. It’s not just his first date with Y/N, but also her first date since her divorce. He wants her to feel secure, comfortable and cared for, so she doesn’t feel like she made a mistake.

Therefore, he pays extra attention to tailor this date to her liking.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, they go to a gallery, then grab dinner and take a walk, but his attention to the details is what makes it outstanding. He remembered Y/N saying how much she loves contemporary art, but she hasn’t had the time to go to any galleries these past years, so Harry takes her to a promising young artist’s exhibition which she absolutely adores, so the evening starts out perfectly.

Then they have dinner at an Indian place Y/N once mentioned. She used to go there often with her parents so it’s a piece of nostalgia for her that brings back some precious memories. The food is amazing, they talk like old friends and the conversation flows naturally, there’s no awkwardness, no weird silences. It’s simply perfect.

As the last stop of the date he takes her to a hidden little park and of course, he’s got reasons for that as well.

“How come I never knew there’s a park around here? We live so close!” she chuckles.

“Because it’s kind of… private,” he smiles as he stops at a massive gate that appears to be just a simple driveway, so Y/N is looking at him confused.

“We’re not gonna get in trouble for this, right? I don’t want to run from the cops,” she chuckles as Harry opens up the gate just enough so they can go inside.

“Don’t worry, I got permission to go inside, I know the owner,” he grins, holding out a hand for her that she gladly takes and they walk in, the gate sliding closed behind them.

“What is this place?”

“I worked with a guy about a year ago, he is an amazing musician and producer. His wife is French and comes from the countryside where her family had this massive mansion with the most beautiful garden.”

As they walk further Y/N finally gets a glimpse of the breathtaking yard that’s hidden from the outside, flowers and greenery everywhere she looks, a dreamy fountain in the middle with a naked female figure serving as the most beautiful gem of the garden.

“She would talk about how much she misses the garden when they moved here, so he surprised her with this. Her own little piece of her home. And see the fountain?” he asks, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s a replica of the one they had in France.”

“Oh my, this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!” she gasps as they slowly walk around the garden.

They wander around, feeling like they have entered a whole new world, the stars shining bright above them and the millions of flowers surrounding them, the gentle splashing of the water coming from the fountain that Y/N keeps staring at, because it’s simply the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Harry is proud of himself, Y/N hasn’t stopped smiling all evening, so he knows tonight turned out just as he planned. He felt rusty at the beginning, he can’t even remember the last time he was on a proper date, but this was a good start for the both of them.

It’s quite late by the time Harry takes her home, but neither of them truly wants the evening to end.

“I had an amazing time, Harry. Thank you,” she smiles up at him as they reach her home.

“Does this mean we can do it again sometime?”

“Definitely,” she chuckles.

Then comes the first awkward moment of the night. It’s not even that awful, it’s just that Harry’s not sure how far he can go. He’s been thinking about kissing her all evening, but he doesn’t want to cross any lines and push her too much.

“Harry?” she breathes out as they stand just a foot apart.

“Yeah?”

“You can kiss me. I-I mean if you want, I don’t–”

He doesn’t need more, crossing the distance left between them he presses his lips against his, circling his arms around her waist as he pulls her into his embrace. It’s the perfect ending for a perfect date and Harry knows he’ll have a hard time from now on to behave around Y/N, knowing how she tastes, what her lips feel like against his and how her tiny moans sound. They devour each other, it feels like years worth of drought is washed away and they experience a kind of passion neither of them thought they would feel again.

It’s hard to hold back and not take it as far as possible. Harry is aching to get, feel and taste more of her, but he knows he needs to slow down. Every fiber in his body is screaming not to stop, but his consciousness is awake enough to draw the line. He pulls back, though he goes in for a few more kisses before forcing himself to stop before he can’t control himself.

Y/N buries her face into the crook of his neck as they stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, bathing in the comfort and warmth of this significant moment. Harry can’t stop himself from pressing a few soft kisses to her forehead, wishing he could do this every day, whenever he wants to.

The moments stretch long, but eventually they let go of each other, not too willingly thought.

“I hope you don’t regret going on a date with the hot dad,” Harry cheekily smirks.

“Not at all,” she chuckles. “It was easily the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“Damn, it’ll be hard to outdo it next time,” he sighs, making her laugh.

“Sorry,” she grins, but there’s no remorse in her reaction.

“Alright, enjoy the rest of your kids-free weekend,” Harry smiles as he starts backing away, but then steps back to her once more, stealing one last kiss. “Okay, bye!” he sighs, forcing himself to walk away.

“Bye Harry!” she chuckles.

The upcoming week turns out quite hectic for the both of them. Y/N got a new project at work and as always, she has her hands full of her kids. Harry’s pretty busy too, he promised to help her mum paint her kitchen, so whenever he’s not at work or spending time with Harlow, he’s over at his mum’s home with a roll attached to his hands.

They don’t get to see each other in person and though talking on the phone and constantly texting is great too, neither of them can stop thinking about how good their date was, spending time alone, in person.

It’s a total coincidence they arrive at the school at the same time on Friday.

Harry spots Y/N first as she is walking towards the building from the parking lot, typing away on her phone in her usual work attire. As sappy as it sounds, his heart skips a beat at the sight of her, he’s been thinking about her a lot all week and now she is right there in front of her.

Leaning against a pillar he watches her with a cheeky smile, waiting for her to notice him. She looks up from her phone and at first, her gaze rushes over him, but then her eyes bounce back on him and a wide smile stretches across her face.

“Lovely to see you here, Miss Y/L/N,” Harry smirks and pushing himself away from the pillar he steps closer to her and dares to press a tiny kiss to her cheek. She doesn’t seem to mind the affection at all.

“Mr. Styles,” she smiles bashfully. “How are you?”

“I’m good. A little tired. How about you?”

“Same,” she sighs, folding her arms over her chest.

“How is the situation with Dylan and Will?”

“Eh, it’s fine. Though it feels like the calm before the storm, I’m afraid.”

Harry nods with a hum just when the doors open and kids start to flow out of the building.

“When will you be kids-free next?” Harry asks in a hurry, his eyes snapping to her just for a moment before searching for Harlow in the sea of students.

“Um, maybe next weekend. But maybe we could have lunch sometime next week?” she suggests and he nods eagerly.

“Would love that.”

“Daddy!” He hears the most beautiful voice and moments later Harlow jumps into his arms.

“Hey princess, how was your day?” he chuckles, adjusting her in his hold.

“Great!”

“That’s good,” he hums, smiling. Glancing to the side Harry sees as Robin hugs Y/N and a few moments later Dylan marches out of the building, joining them. Y/N looks at him for one last moment, they exchange a quick smile and then part ways.

Lunch together doesn’t happen. Days go by and they can’t get the schedule to match, there’s always something happening, life gets in the way, but it doesn’t change the way Harry feels about Y/N. And because of that, he would wait forever to spend even just another minute with her.

They manage to have two more dates in the next month and they are both just as amazing as the first one was, because they got to spend more time together.

They have slowly become inseparable.

Their fourth date is set to happen on a Friday when they are kids-free again. Or so they thought.

They planned to watch a movie and then have a late dinner somewhere, so Harry arrived at her house a few minutes before six so they could catch the movie that starts at 6:45. He’s been looking forward to this evening all week, his heart jumping every time Y/N messaged him. He’s been like a lovesick puppy for a while now, even at work, he found himself taking songs into a more romantic direction than he usually does.

Walking up to the door he rings the bell and waits, trying his best to keep himself from smiling like crazy. But when the door opens and he sees the stressed out look on Y/N’s face, his expression drops right away.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot!” she breaks down seeing Harry, but her reaction is a little too extreme, he knows something happened that made her forget about their date. “Harry, I’m sorry, I don’t think tonight is gonna–”

“Hey, it’s alright, no need to apologize. Just tell me what happened, you seem so shaken up.”

Y/N holds the door for him as he walks in while she tries to collect her thoughts to tell him what happened.

“I uhh–I had the worst fucking day ever,” she breathes out shakily as they move to the living room to sit on the couch. “I have no idea how we ended up fighting with Dylan right before Will was about to arrive, but it was possibly our worst fight so far. Then Will joined in and of course, he completely ignored the fact that he is supposed to be a parent and not just a friend to Dylan.”

As she talks, Harry can’t stop thinking about how broken she seems and it’s killing him to see her like this. He needs everything in him not to just pull her into his arms and tell her he’ll solve everything for her.

“I swear I could see that vile smile hiding in his expression, like he was enjoying how Dylan was turning against me!” She growls in annoyance, sinking into the cushion.

“So then what happened? Did you guys come to an agreement of some sort?”

Y/N scoffs, her head falling back.

“The agreement that we came to is that He took the kids and Dylan will stay with him for a while. I had to pack my son’s stuff knowing that Will won’t take good care of him. I know him, he can’t be on parent mode all the time, he’ll want to have his alone time and go out with his friends, but now he’ll have Dylan with him all the time!”

“Why did you let him take Dylan?” Harry asks with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand the reasons behind her actions.

“Because I’m fucking tired of being the bad guy and… I figured that Dylan is smart enough to realize that living with his dad is not fun!” she laughs, but there’s no happiness behind it at all. “Will never did the everyday things. He doesn’t like to cook, he definitely won’t wake up earlier to pack Dylan lunch, I’m pretty sure he’ll probably forget to pick him up at least once, if not more times a week. It’s not gonna work and I’m hoping that Dylan will find it out himself. He’s a smart boy, if he wants to take this ride, I’m all in,” she sighs, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she looks at Harry. “I’m so sorry I forgot about our date. I promise I’ve been waiting for it, but today was just–”

“Y/N, I already told you there’s no need to apologize,” he cuts in, not even wanting to have her think about it.

“I feel like I’m just dumping all my mess on you all the time.”

“I love that you feel comfortable enough around me to share this stuff,” Harry smiles softly.

“I feel more than just comfortable,” she admits, looking at him with calmness in the middle of the madness.

“Yeah?” he grins. “Why don’t we order some food, watch a movie here and call it a night? You must be exhausted.”

“That sounds… amazing,” she breathes out with a tired smile.

And that’s exactly what they do. They order pizza and cuddle on the couch while watching some Netflix movie. Every time they’re together they talk constantly, but this time, they just enjoy each other’s presence in silence and it’s exactly what they need. Halfway through the movie Harry notices that she’s fallen asleep, her head on his chest, snoozing away her stress.

Harry takes just a few minutes to himself, enjoying her closeness and being able to hold her in his arms like never before and he thinks about how he wants to experience this every day. He wants Y/N to get some well-deserved rest, so he carefully carries her to her bedroom and puts her to bed, planning to let himself out and probably call her in the morning, but right before he is about to walk out of her bedroom, her voice pulls him back.

“Stay with me? Please?”

Her voice is barely more than just a whisper and as he looks back at her, she’s blinking at him lazily, already scooting over in bed to make space for him.

“You sure?” Harry asks, though every bit of him just wants to stay close to her. She nods into the pillow and smiles softly as Harry steps back to the bed, hesitantly looking down at his clothes.

“You can take off your jeans if you want,” she cheekily smirks, making Harry laugh as he unbuttons his pants.

“You just wanted to get me out of my pants, didn’t you?” he teases her, kicking the jeans off and then making himself comfortable in bed next to Y/N, who instantly moves closer, cuddling to his side.

“Since the moment I saw you,” she retorts, making him laugh again.

“Should have just asked me right away.”

He presses a kiss on top of her head, wrapping his arms around her tight as they fall asleep together for the first time.

She sleeps better than she had in a long time. Usually she’s awake early in the morning no matter whether she has plans or not. But this time when she blinks her eyes open and checks the time on the alarmclock on her nightstand and it reads seven minutes past nine. She can’t even tell when the last time she slept after eight was.

Sitting up in bed she’s disappointed to realize that the bed next to her is empty, but then she hears pans and pots clinking somewhere downstairs and she can’t help but smile at the thought of Harry in her kitchen.

When she walks down she spots the man by the stove, he is making what seems like scrambled eggs, two mugs already sitting on the countertop with steaming, fresh coffee in them. Harry has put his jeans back on, though she wishes she could have seen him cook only in his underwear, but this is a nice view as well.

“Good morning,” she smiles and walking closer she checks in on the breakfast he’s making.

“Hi there, I hope I didn’t wake you up,” he chuckles and moving close she presses a sweet kiss to his lips to his surprise.

“No. I slept amazing, thank you for staying. I hope I didn’t make it feel weird.”

“Oh please. I was worried I might have crossed a line,” he chuckles softly as he moves the pan off the stove, turning to face Y/N fully, his hands finding her waist instantly.

“I’m afraid there are no lines when it comes to you, Harry.”

She says it with a cheeky smile, but they both can feel the seriousness behind her words and Harry is a tad bit surprised. He thought he would have to wait much longer for her to heal and move forward, but it seems like she’s ready to start this new chapter with Harry.

“Yeah?” he hums, inching closer with his face until he can brush his nose against hers.

“Mhm… I hope I won’t regret this,” she adds, a pang of fear flashing through her eyes.

“You won’t. I promise.”

He holds her gaze for a few more heartbeats before pressing his lips to hers, devouring her as if he is trying to prove that his promise will be a lasting one.

The eggs and coffee get forgotten quite fast as they get lost in each other. He presses her against the counter, his hands sneaking under her shirt, seeking direct contact with her skin. He can never get enough of her taste, the way her lips move with his and those pleased moans that slip out whenever he touches a soft spot. He’s completely obsessed with her and can’t even remember a time when he wasn’t thinking about her every waking moment.

“You’re not hungry?” he asks against her lips.

“Only for you,” she chuckles as she pulls him back towards the stairs to return to the bedroom.

They’ve been both craving intimacy for a while, but after their dates they just didn’t have the chance to take it past making out on the front porch. Now they have the house all to themselves and they are definitely using the precious time.

Between hungry kisses thes peel each other out of their clothes as they navigate back into the bedroom. She falls onto the mattress in only her underwear and Harry takes a moment to admire the view while ridding himself of his pants. Her nerves take over as he studies her almost fully naked form, she reaches for the covers, but he’s quick to stop her.

“Sorry, i-it’s just been a long time since…” she stutters as Harry climbs over her, holding himself up on his arms.

“How long?” he simply asks.

“Um… At least over a year… maybe two…,” she admits shamefully while his expression remains blank and she fears he finds it ridiculous that she hasn’t been with a man in so long.

“Your ex is the biggest idiot in the world,” he replies before his lips devour hers, his body pressing down on her, skin against skin, they are closer than ever, but they are just about to get even closer.

They roll around on the mattress, giggles turning into moans as the last remaining pieces of clothing disappear. They can’t get enough of each other, Harry’s practically trying to map out her whole body, kissing and touching every inch he can reach, worshiping her like no one before did.

When he kisses his way down on her chest and stomach, she realizes where he’s taking it, her breathing picks up at the thought of feeling his lips between her legs, especially because she can’t even remember the last time she was on the receiving end of oral sex.

“Relax,” he softly says before peppering the inside of her thigh, one hand sliding up her torso to her sternum. He can feel under his touch how wildly her heart is beating against her ribcage. “I’ll just have a quick taste, is that okay?” he asks, his eyes snapping up to meet hers.

“Yes,” she answers breathlessly.

“Good,” he smirks before moving closer to her cunt.

He truly only wants a taste, he doesn’t want to overwhelm her, knowing it’s her first time in a long time, but he just can’t help himself. The way her back arches and lips part when his mouth meets her clit, it gets him addicted fast and he knows he’ll spend long hours between her thighs once she gets more comfortable. But for now, he’s just trying to control his hunger.

Licking, kissing and sucking, he makes sure to show her he has endless ways of pleasuring her with his mouth, leaving her wanting more when he moves back up.

“Next time I’m not stopping until you come on my tongue at least twice,” he warns with a pleased grin, to which she can only nod as she gasps for air.

To his surprise, when his lips return to hers, she reaches down and wraps her hands around his cock he’s been ignoring all along just to focus on her pleasure. He can’t help but moan against her mouth when she starts gently pumping his length.

“And next time,” she speaks up, “I will suck your dick for as long as you want me to, but now… I really need you to fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he chuckles, but it quickly turns into a growl when she angles her hips so his head brushes against her soaked cunt. “Condom?”

“In the drawer,” she nods towards the nightstand and he reaches to the side, his movements slightly disoriented since she’s still playing with his cock with her hands.

She only stops when he rolls the condom on, her hands then moving to his mare ass, squeezing it shamelessly as he positions himself between her legs.

“Just tell me how you like it, slow, fast, hard, soft, I can do anything for you, Y/N,” he says, pressing kisses to the corner of her mouth.

“Start slow, then we can go faster.”

He nods and with a slow, careful motion he pushes into her, both of them moaning at the sensation. Harry almost loses his mind, feeling her warm, wet walls around him even through the condom. For a moment he fears he is about to come just by being inside her. Y/N is not the only one who hasn’t been sexually active lately, Harry’s needs mostly get satisfied by his hand under the shower on lonely nights, so this is a gamechanger for him as well.

“You’re good?” he asks out of breath.

“Never been better,” she smiles shortly, taking his face in her hands to pull him in for a kiss before Harry finally starts moving.

Just as she asked, he starts slow, gliding in and out of her until she gets familiar with the feeling and his size that’s quite bigger than what she’s been used to. Pulling her left leg up she hooks it around him, allowing him to go deeper with each thrust.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he growls against her neck before biting on her soft skin gently. She wraps her arms around his torso, clawing at his back to pull him as close as possible, she wants to feel his weight on her, his skin melting against hers as they become one.

“Faster, please!” she breathes out and that’s all Harry needs to pick his pace up, pleasing her every wish.

“Would love to fuck you from behind, but I need to see your pretty face when you come,” he breathes out a chuckle, pressing his lips on hers.

“Next time,” she grins back.

“We're saying that a lot.”

“Because we’ll have a lot of it,” she simply says before a moan slips through her lips.

His heart skips a beat, thinking of a future where he can spend his time with Y/N more than just a couple of times a week. He’s known it for a while, but now, as he’s closer to her than ever, he knows she is it for him.

Gradually fastening his movements he brings them both to the edge, she keeps calling out his name while he mumbles praises against her lips until she finally comes and he follows her moments later. His last few thrusts are rough and hard, but it tops it all perfectly. Harry rolls off of her, trying to catch his breath as she cuddles to his side, happily listening to the beating of his heart that’s slowing down after the excitement.

Legs tangled, she lifts her head, her fingers gently dancing over his tattooed chest, a lovesick smile stretching across her face.

“You’re alright?” he asks, squeezing her playfully.

“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” she admits chuckling.

“Good,” he smiles. “Though I think breakfast is cold now.”

“We had way more important things to do,” she grins before placing a kiss to his chest.

A lot changes following that Friday. Some changes are hard, like accepting that Y/N can only see Dylan a handful of times and that he’s living with his father now. It’s hard on Y/N and Robin as well, not having him around like always, but there’s nothing to do.

Some changes, however, are very much amazing. Like the blossoming relationship between Y/N and Harry. Following their passionate morning things have taken a pleasant turn.

They are officially an item.

There are rules, of course, that help their journey, navigating life with a new partner with kids. It’s challenging, but they both know it will benefit everyone. Playdates have been regular and Harlow has been spending more time with her granny and Robin has been visiting Will and Dylan quite often as well. It’s also useful in the case of showing Will just how much work it is to take care of the kids almost full time, Y/N is convinced there will be a breaking point. In the meantime, she’s making the best out of her free time, spending it with her new lover.

The girls don’t know officially that their parents are dating. However, they are smart enough to notice that there’s something definitely going on. Harry always brings flowers to Y/N when they come over for a playdate, they’ve had dinner together a few times, Harry often picks them both up from school and then they meet at home and have dinner before Y/N and Robin head home.

They’ve found a rhythm that seems to be working for both of them.

“...Happy birthday dear Harlow! Happy birthday to you!” all the guests sing as the girl sits by her flower themed cake, candles lit on top.

Harry is recording with his phone with the proudest smile on his face, Frankie standing right next to him. Harlow’s birthday is the occasion where they celebrate together, no matter what. She might be switching between them all year, but they both agreed that her day shouldn’t be split into two. So usually Frankie joins them for this one time every year so they can celebrate as a family.

Today is not only special because of Harlow’s birthday, but also because Y/N and Frankie will meet for the first time. She dropped Robin off earlier, but she’ll return soon to have their official introduction, she just had to drop by her office to hand in some documents before joining the party.

She’s been anxious about the meeting all week, even though Harry told her there’s nothing to worry about. Meeting an ex could easily be a terrible experience and Y/N wants Frankie to like her and justify the time she spends with Harlow as Harry’s partner.

Harlow blows the candles out and smiles wide at everyone clapping for her. She’s invited her friends from school and from around the neighborhood and of course, there are a few parents attending as well.

After cake the kids get a headstart in all the activities Harry has planned for them, starting off with playing tag in the bouncy castle he has rented for the afternoon. Yeah, he might have gone a little overboard, but he just wanted the best for his little princess.

“So, when is she arriving?” Frankie asks Harry while she helps him clean up the dining table.

“Um, any minute.”

“I hope you’re not nervous about us meeting,” she chuckles.

“No,” he smiles. “But she is.”

“I can understand that.”

They work in silence for a bit before Frankie stops and looks at Harry.

“Are you happy?” she asks. Harry puts the plates down from his hands and looks at the woman he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with.

“I am. Yeah.”

“And you think it’s a lasting happiness?”

“I do,” he nods. “There’s… There’s something I feel in my chest that I can’t really explain, but I just know I found my person.”

Frankie smiles, genuinely, because this is all she ever wished for Harry.

“It’s good to hear that.”

Just as they are about to finish in the kitchen, the doorbell rings and Harry knows it’s Y/N.

“Please be nice to her,” he exhales before jogging over to the door. Opening he sees Y/N standing there, a nervous, but bright expression on her face.

“Hey,” he smiles and leaning in, he steals a kiss before she steps inside.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. I was trying to be fast. How is the party? Is Frankie here?” she asks as Harry closes the door behind her.

“Yeah, come on, let’s meet her.” Harry takes her hand, but she pulls back.

“Wait, is it… How should I act? What do I tell her?” she asks in a frenzy.

“Calm down, it’s going to be fine. Just be yourself, okay?”

“I’m about to meet your ex wife, don’t tell me–”

“Hello!” Frankie walks out with a warm smile and Y/N’s eyes go wide at first, but then she regains control over her face. “You must be Y/N, I’m Francesca, but call me Frankie.” She extends her hand towards Y/N which she takes.

“So nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you!”

“So have I,” Frankie chuckles.

“I hope only the good things,” she chuckles awkwardly, throwing a look at Harry, who is just watching the scene unfolding with an amused smirk on his face.

“Why don’t we have a drink and I’ll tell you everything he told me about you,” Frankie smirks.

“Yeah, sure!”

Harry lets them get to know each other, though he keeps an eye on them while tending to the birthday party as well. Just as he thought, Y/N had no reason to worry about meeting Frankie, five minutes into their chit-chat and they are already laughing like old friends.

The party is a huge success, the kids have fun and Harlow will surely remember her eighth birthday. When all the guests have left and Harlow said goodbye to her mom who headed out to the airport, it’s just Harry, Y/N and the two girls. Harlow and Robin are watching a movie in the living room while Y/N helps Harry to clean up most of the mess.

“So, meeting Frankie wasn’t that bad after all, huh?” Harry teases her while they’re loading the dishwasher.

“I never thought it would be bad, I was just nervous. She is obviously an important person in your and Harlow’s life, I wanted her to like me,” she clarifies.

“It’s impossible not to like you,” Harry smirks cheekily, making her laugh.

“Maybe. For you,” she adds sheepishly. “Anyway, she was nice and welcoming, it wasn’t awkward at all.”

“Why would it have been awkward?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “That’s what it’s like in the movies.”

“But it’s real life,” he chuckles. putting the last plate onto the rack and closing the washer. “I told you, we are on great terms. She has a partner too, actually, I think they will get engaged soon.”

“Oh, that’s great. Do you like the guy?”

“Yeah,” he nods, starting the washer and then he leans against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Mateo is a nice guy, he’s a doctor too. Neurosurgeon. So I guess they are perfect for each other. He’s great with Harlow too and that’s what matters to me. I’m sure Frankie thinks the same about you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know it, Y/N. So don’t worry,” he smiles and peeking over her shoulder he checks if the girls can see them. When he’s sure they’re not in sight, he leans down and steals a short, but meaningful kiss. “Can I ask you something? And please tell me if it’s too fast, I want to do this right.”

“Okay,” she nods.

“When do you think we should tell the kids about us?”

“Well,” she exhales with a tiny smile. “I think they are already suspecting something.”

“How do you know?”

“Robin asked the other day if you and Harlow will spend Christmas with us since, and I quote, we already spend as much time together as a couple.”

“Oh wow, they really are smarter than we think,” Harry chuckles. “I guess we could come clean soon, what do you think?”

“Definitely. I want to be honest with Robin. We can sit down with them sometime. But I want Dylan to be there too. I don’t want him to find out about it from Robin.”

“Of course, sure.”

Before he turns to finish up in the kitchen she grabs his hand and pulls back for another, tad bit longer kiss that he accepts gladly, even with the risk of getting caught.

“Thank you,” she whispers when they pull apart.

“For what?”

“For… being so amazing. And giving me faith that I can still find happiness.”

Next weekend the girls are invited for their first ever sleepover to a classmate’s home, so Harry and Y/N can have a night to themselves finally. It’s been a hectic week, so they agreed to just stay in, watch a movie and relax together. This time it’s Y/N’s turn to host their romantic evening, so they are spending Saturday evening cuddled up on her couch, ready to rewind.

They are halfway into their choice of movie when Y/N’s phone starts ringing. Normally, she would ignore it, but when she sees that Dylan is calling her, she snatches the phone from the table and answers the call.

“Hey hun, everything alright?” she asks, knowing well Dylan only has a phone for emergencies and he wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.

Harry can’t hear the boy on the other end, but he can tell whatever Dylan is saying it’s putting Y/N on alerted mom mode instantly.

“I’ll pick you up right now, don’t worry,” she says, already jumping up from the couch. “Just stay right there, I’m on my way, honey.”

“What happened?” Harry asks, rushing after Y/N as she hurriedly starts putting on shoes and a jumper, still staying in line with Dylan. She covers the mic of her phone as she answers quickly.

“Will left him home alone, he went to the store to get himself food, but he locked himself out and Will is not answering his phone.”

She’s mad. Big time. It’s the type of anger that turns any mother into mama bear mode.

“I’m going with you, you can’t drive like this,” he says, not asks.

“Thank you,” she breathes out before turning her attention back to the phone. “I’ll be right there, Dylan, okay? Stay on the phone with me.”

She talks to him on the phone while Harry is driving according to her instructions and he’s trying his best to keep his cool and stay in his line. He knows this is a family matter, but he’s fighting the urge to punch Will if he ever sees him.

“There, pull over,” Y/N points at a house and Harry spots Dylan sitting on the stairs at the front door, obviously shaken up.

Y/N practically jumps out of the car before it even stops, running towards the boy who does the same and lets his mom wrap him in her arms tight and safely, it’s exactly where he belongs. Harry gets out as well, approaching carefully, making sure he keeps distance and gives them space.

“Come on, I got the spare keys, let’s pack your stuff. You’re coming home.”

For probably the first time in a long time, he doesn’t argue, just nods and follows his mom to the door that she locks with her set of keys Will gave him for emergencies. This surely qualifies as one. Glancing back she nods at Harry to follow and he oblies, staying in the foyer as the two of them disappear further in the house.

The place looks like a typical bachelor home, not too much furniture, no home décor, but a giant TV in the living room with several game consoles. It’s obviously not a place where kids should be around, there’s nothing homey, warm and cozy and Harry can only guess, but something is telling him Dylan’s room looks similar to the rest of the house.

He can faintly hear them talking, maybe even Dylan crying as Y/N softly soothes him while they’re probably packing his things. Harry stays by the door, but when he sees a pair of headlights pulling up on the driveway, he stiffens.

“Y/N? I think someone’s home!” he calls out, watching a guy get out of the car. From what Harry can see through the window, he looks confused at first and then pissed when he reaches the front door and walks in, facing Harry in his house.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spits, his hands curling into fists. Before he could answer, Y/N rushes out of Dylan’s room.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Where the hell were you?” she raises her voice in an instant, holding Will accountable for his actions.

“What are you doing here and who the hell is this clown?” Will ignores her questions, gesturing towards Harry.

“You left your son home alone for almost a whole day with no food!”

“I left a few dollars on the dining table,” he shrugs, like it’s truly no big deal.

“Yeah! And he went to the store to get something when you’ve been away for fucking hours and locked himself out! You didn’t answer his calls! He called me crying, because he couldn’t reach you, do you think that’s how a father should act? Huh?”

“I had shit to do! I couldn’t bring him with me, what’s the big deal about it? He’s fine!” Will retorts pointing at a frightened looking Dylan down the hallway.

“No, he is not fine! And don’t fucking believe I’m leaving him here with you. He told me all about the shit you’ve been doing. I’m gonna make legal actions to limit your time with him and Robin as well. You screwed it up, Will. Big time.”

The switch in him can be seen, where he turns into full defensive mode, ready to tear anything and anyone down to have his ways, no matter the consequences.

“Oh yeah? You think you can just do whatever you want, Y/N?”

“No, it’s you who thinks that’s how it works!”

“You will not keep my kids away from me!” he starts shouting. “Do you hear me? You can’t do that!”

“Actually, I can and I will! I’m done with your shit and so are the kids, believe me.”

Despite the weight of the situation, Harry feels his chest swell with pride seeing Y/N stand her ground, not letting Will throw everything on her.

“Come on, Dylan, we’re leaving, bring your bag,” she calls out to the boy who runs into his room to grab his stuff, appearing a moment later.

“No, you are not walking out of here with him!” Will snaps, grabbing Y/N’s arm and that’s when Harry steps in.

Taking Will by the shoulder, Harry pulls him back, the action takes him by surprise and makes him let go of her, but it just pumps up his anger.

“Get your hands off me!” Will spits, puffing his chest to try to intimidate Harry, but there’s no use.

“Right after you get your hands off of her,” he retorts, calm and collected, but his eyes are throwing flames.

“You have the nerve to come to my house and tell me what to do with my wife?!”

“I’m not your wife anymore, and this madness is ending here,” Y/N tells him harshly. She holds out a hand and Dylan runs up to her, taking her hand, clinging onto it desperately as he tries to avoid looking at his father.

“Dylan, you really want to go with your mother? Think of all the fun we’ve had!” Now Will sounds more desperate as he follows Y/N and Dylan towards the door, but Harry gets between him and them before Will could get physical again.

He tries to stop them on their way out, following them to the car too, his emotions switching by the minute: anger, despair, sadness, disgust, he goes through everything, but nothing can stop Y/N now.

“You really think you can just take my kids away from me like that? Huh?” Will starts shouting when Dylan is in the car and they are just about to leave. Y/N turns back to end the discussion in a calm manner.

“I know that the court will love to hear about all the shit you’ve done. Try fighting me and I will make sure you’ll never see your kids again.”

Will is stunned from the strength and power oozing from Y/N and it leaves him frozen in his spot as she gets in the car and drives away with Dylan and Harry.

Arriving back home Harry stays back and lets Y/N focus on Dylan. They have a talk in his room while Harry cleans up the mess they left before rushing out of the house. When an hour later Y/N comes down he can tell she’s tired and drained.

“Thank you for cleaning up,” she smiles as she walks over and he pulls her into his embrace right away. She melts into his arms gladly, dropping the tough act and letting him be her safe haven after everything that happened.

“How’s Dylan?”

“Confused and disappointed. I wish he never had to see Will like that. He used to be his hero, this was a turning point.”

“He’s a great kid, he’ll get over it and he has you.” He kisses the crown of her head before pulling back so give her an encouraging smile that she returns. “I’m gonna head out, let you get some rest.”

“Okay,” she nods and leaning closer, she kisses his lips gently. “Thank you for… everything.”

“I’m happy to be here for you. Anytime.”

“I know,” she smiles softly. “That’s why… that’s why I love you.”

Her words take him by surprise, but then his heart starts hammering in his chest as he stares back at her.

“I love you too,” he breathes out before their lips meet again.

It's a staring match and Harry and Y/N are definitely losing.

Sitting next to each other, the couple is now facing the three most important people in their life. Harlow, Robin and Dylan are sitting in silence, waiting for the announcement that brought them together this Saturday afternoon.

Y/N bumps her elbow against Harry’s side, urging him to break the silence. He clears his throat and finally starts talking.

“So, we wanted to tell you guys something. We believe all three of you are mature enough to take the news and we hope you’ll be happy about it.”

Harlow and Robin exchange a knowing look, but they let him carry on.

“You might have noticed that we’ve been spending a lot of time together. It’s because we’ve become great friends and… and slowly we became… You know, when adults get closer they can easily fall… Um…”

He is not doing good, rambling, all over the place, feeling more nervous than ever as the three kids stare back at him expectantly. At last, Y/N takes the lead.

“We’re together. As a couple,” she says, ending Harry’s misery to find the right words.

They remain silent for a few moments that feel excruciating to Harry and then the girls start giggling.

“What’s so funny?” Harry questions them.

“We were just wondering how long it would take for you to admit it,” Harlow sassily replies.

“We’ve known it for a while,” Robin chimes in.

“You might have suspected it, but I don’t think you’ve known,” Y/N narrows her eyes at them.

“We saw you kissing the other week,” Dylan speaks up, surprising Y/N and Harry. They’ve been trying to be very careful, but it seems like they did not succeed.

“Um, well… So then now you know for sure,” Harry chuckles. “How do you feel about it?”

“Does this mean we’re sisters now?” Harlow asks, her face lighting up.

“Not really. Not yet, at least,” Y/N chuckles.

“Oh, okay.”

“Are we gonna move in together?” Dylan asks and Y/N can tell he is not ready for that.

“No. We’re not planning to do that anytime soon, don’t worry. But we want to spend more time together, with you guys as well. So Harry might spend the night at ours sometimes or when you two are with dad, I might be sleeping over at his place,” she explains.

“Okay,” Dylan nods in relief.

The kids have a few more questions that they gladly answer and it seems like they are taking it well. When the talk is over, the kids take over the trampoline in the backyard, giving Harry and Y/N a moment of privacy.

“That went well,” he smirks proudly.

“Oh, you mean you did so great rambling in the beginning?” she teases him. “I agree.”

“Haha, very funny,” he rolls his eyes, but can’t hold his smirk back.

“It went well, you’re right,” she says. “But I’m not surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything about you is perfect,” she smiles up at him, knowing well how much he loves getting praised.

“Mm, guess we can thank the girls. That bake sale truly brought us together,” he chuckles.

“That was the ultimate parent trap and they didn’t even know it,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around his waist before kissing him.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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jakethemailman · 7 months

Text

Some imodna content from the CR panel today at Rose City Comic-Con, I got a vid but the hotel Wi-Fi is trash and I can’t post lol

Christian asked if anything has changed on how Laura and Marisha play their characters now that they are in a relationship.

Marisha and Laura said that they don’t know if anything changed. Marisha added that Laudna was already so protective of Imogen and maybe doubled down on it even more. Laura agreed about imogen also being protective of Laudna.

Marisha jokingly said it’s just like marriage, Sam asked how so and marisha said that nothing really changes you’re just backed by the law lol. Laura the said that when you marry your best friend that relationship just stays strong.

Liam then asked “wedding on the moon when?” And everyone cheered lol. Laura looked excited and said “we can make it happen”. Marisha asked Liam if Orym would officiate and Liam said yes

Christian then asked at what point did Laudna and Imogen’s romantic feelings start to pop up, since Laura and Marisha agreed to no romance.

Marisha said that it started clicking when she became jealous of Imogen becoming close to others like F.R.I.D.A and Orym, that she became irritated and realized it’s probably a sign.

Laura agreed and said she was jealous before the party separation but really became jealous when Laudna got close to the other party. Laura was like “oh she’s moved on? Cool, all I did was think about her the whole time”

Liam went on to talk about how both marisha and Laura agreed to no romance behind closed doors, and for 40 episodes everyone at the table was going “are you sure?”

Later on when Ashley was asked about Fearne and the Skeletal Captain of the ship cuddling, Laura said “it’s nice isn’t it?”

#critical role #imodna

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m-ayo-o · 1 month

Text

2: who do you think you are, to give orders as you please?

m.list pt. 1 puppy visits u at work gn reader x sub toji cw: public toy use, anal play wc: 3k

Your phone has been vibrating in your pocket all morning. It’s him. You know it’s him.

zzt zzt - another text.

zzt zzt - one more.

You should really turn the damn thing off.

zzzzzt zzzzzt zzzzzt - he’s ringing you - zzzzt, zzz–

“Hey, sweet thing. I’m a little busy right now.”

You decide to answer the phone in front of the board of directors you summoned for a meeting. You are the CEO, after all, you can do whatever you want.

“Need to see you. Today.”

“How demanding,” you comment, lowering your voice a little.

There’s a momentary silence on the other end of the phone while your directors start murmuring and tittering; probably discussing something mundane like which secretary they’re fucking.

“Please. Let me see you.”

A little devilish smirk crosses your face, with plans ever so evil and cunning starting to simmer.

“Ok. Come visit me at work, in say–” you hold the phone with your shoulder and tug up the sleeve of your jacket, bringing your watch into view, “an hour and a half.”

You hope this dreary meeting will be concluded before then.

“Oh and Toji,” you stop him before hanging up, “don’t wear anything special. Just your usual shitty clothes.”

You shove your phone away and get on with the tedious meeting, your thoughts straying from the uninspired, bland conversation your directors are providing.

Your thoughts stray, imagining what you did to your play thing last time; how you strapped him up, how you made him beg... you can't wait to see him again.

But the meeting drags on and on– you recline back in the leather chair, tapping at your watch and starting to yawn, when you realise it’s nearly time.

You lift your heavy eyes from the swathes of paperwork you’re sifting through, finding a familiar large figure on the other side of the office through the glass panes of the meeting room.

He’s here.

You catch a glimpse of your secretary trying to usher him away, but he persists. You see his lips moving, starting to point to where he can see you in the meeting room.

She can’t exactly escort him out of the building. And he’s clearly on his best behaviour, being too polite to call security– you audibly snort at the image.

As if they could handle him.

You notice the way her eyes flit about when he gets closer to her. He bends down and brushes her shoulder, easily getting her all flustered and awkward.

She guides him to the tall glass panel of the door, knocking almost inaudibly before entering to whisper in your ear that someone is here to visit, and that she can ask him to leave if you’d prefer.

“Leave? Oh no, he’s right on time. Send him in.”

So she leaves, and he enters.

In those shabby, loose pants, his trademark slutty t-shirt that exposes his entire upper body, and the strong odour he carries in with him.

To you, the sight of him is exciting, his smell almost… arousing.

But for your colleagues, the experience is quite overwhelming. They’re not used to seeing such men in their day to day lives. You notice them staring a little before you decide to break the silence.

“This is Toji.”

No further explanation.

You stand and approach the man, smoothing out the creases of your immaculate suit, and place a hand on his arm.

“Let’s take a break. Coffee in ten?”

You receive nods and positive murmurs as they gawk, watching you two step out of the meeting room.

Needless to say, their topic of debate is going to revolve around your likely relationship, how huge he is… and what on earth you’re doing inviting a man like him to a place like this.

You lead Toji, who is looking uncharacteristically self-conscious, to your private office.

You don’t exactly blame him, with your employees starting to stare and whisper. And they’re all dressed to the nines– you pay them well enough to afford luxurious work attire, so you demand that to be the standard in your office. And the dress code is stringent, down to the finer details such as accessories, hair and makeup. You once fired a woman for turning up wearing foundation a shade off her natural skin tone. You didn’t think it was too harsh– in this industry it’s good to keep people on their toes.

However, it’s all getting a bit much for Toji, making him feel cheap, dirty, and terribly out of place.

You can tell by his awkward glances and the way he appears to be swallowing down his pride with each nervous gulp.

When you’re behind the closed door of your office he seems to relax a little; the tension fades from his shoulders and his expression slackens again.

Not yet, Toji.

You press him against the thick wood of your office door, your hand splayed over the muscular expanse of his stomach.

“What was so important, that you had to visit me at work, pup?”

He feels an incredible rush through his chest, from hearing the pet name alone. He really is pathetic.

“Just– needed to see you.”

You watch him clench and unclench his jaw, looking away from your eyes.

“Come to whore yourself out again?”

There’s a chip in the steel of his exterior that he’s trying to hold up. But to you, that steel may as well be ice.

You could shatter him. You could melt him. With a touch.

And where your hand is pressing on his abs is starting to heat up nicely.

“I– I–”

The way you quirk your eyebrow up at him brings his gaze back down to your face.

“I need you.”

There it is.

“Hm,” a little smile plays on your lips.

Yes, and I need you too.

But you’ll never admit it; the way his need fuels your desire is almost embarrassing.

But you’ve never had anyone like him… under your control. So you’re not exactly going to let go if all it takes is an unnoticeable percentage of your earnings to keep him in check.

“Come,” you pinch at the black material of his shirt, tugging him closer to your broad, wooden desk.

“Here,” you place him facing the desk, “down.”

He bends, looking somewhat reluctant, until your hand snakes up the muscles of his back to provide a little encouragement.

“That’s it.” He plants his massive hands on the wood, lowering his body slowly, until you’ve got his ass pushing out and his chest resting on the expensive wood.

“Now,” you trace a hand up his spine, settling in his black strands, “we’re going for coffee with my useless directors in– five minutes.”

Oh, how time flies when you’re having fun.

“I’m afraid that means I’ll have to rush this next part ever so slightly.”

You keep one hand in his hair, ensuring his face remains pressed against the wood, reaching the other into your desk drawer.

You retrieve two items, place them on the side, and start moving your hand down his back again, reaching the waistband of those baggy pants.

You tug them off with his boxers, making him flinch a little as his bare ass is exposed.

“Stay still.”

The next sensation he gets is cool, wet and…

“Ghh– ah! Here? Really?”

He feels your lubed up fingers sliding over the tight ring of his ass. You push and press and work the muscle till he lets you in with a moan. You slide in and out, teasing out those little gasps that you love, then add another finger.

“Hmm,” you hum with pleasure, watching him settle into the rhythm, just before you pull out and wipe yourself clean– using his shirt, “I think you’re ready now.”

You select the next item, wetting it with lube and inserting it into his perfectly prepped hole.

“Ahhh, ahh–” it’s bigger than your fingers. But he can take it.

You push it in nice and deep, then pull away.

“Time for coffee.”

“Y-you’re just gonna– leave that inside?”

“Yes? Is that an issue?” You quip, patting your hands dry of the harsh, alcohol filled hand sanitiser.

He struggles with the realisation for a second, then pushes his heavy body off your desk and tugs his pants up.

⋆

Coffee is going well. Your subordinates are trying to dodge around the dark haired, proverbial elephant in the room, but their eyes still linger over him. He shifts and fidgets in the too small chair, feeling uncomfortable from their staring once again.

Or maybe it’s the toy you shoved up his ass? You couldn’t care less. Either way, this is incredibly amusing.

You watch him try to answer their occasional questions, not returning much in the way of conversation himself.

“So, you work in the city, uh…” your CTO trails off.

“Toji. Yeah, I work here.”

He’s working right now.

“And what exactly… do you do?”

He pauses, his green eyes darting up and down the woman’s face.

“For work?” She presses.

“I’m, uh–”

I’m a filthy whore.

I kill people for money.

I’ll do anything for money.

“I’m a– ah! a, a driver.”

The woman gives him an odd look, before rejoining the conversation with her colleagues.

You’re just quietly observing, tapping on your phone and leaning back with your legs crossed, watching the situation unfold.

Toji gets up, excusing himself. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Where are– mm, the bathrooms?” He asks you quietly.

You give him a smirk and point in their direction before returning to your phone.

He gets into the private cubicle, pulls down his pants and spreads his cheeks– trying to feel what you put inside him.

zzzzzzzzzzz

He can hear the quiet buzzing noise in the stillness of the bathroom.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

The intensity suddenly increases.

Ding

His phone lights up in his pocket– but that’s the least of his worries.

His fingers press into the tight ring of his ass– he can feel it now, buzzing through his core and igniting that erogenous zone deep in his tummy.

“Ugh, uuuh–”

He struggles and prods around back there, incidentally adding to his pleasure, before he huffs in defeat. His fingers are just too thick and clumsy, he can’t even get the thing out.

He stands in the cubicle, feeling the pleasure start to spread to his cock.

“Fuck,” he lets out an erotic sigh, looking down at the swell in his pants.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The buzzing is relentless. He leans his body up against the panel of the cubicle in a desperate attempt to cool himself down.

He pulls his phone from his pocket.

don’t you dare take that out. come back and finish your coffee, pup.

He groans and readjusts his pants. Surely he can handle this, right?

⋆

Wrong.

Not ten minutes into his return, with the hubbub of the break room dampening the sound of the vibrator, your puppy is turning into a massive horny mess.

You bet his shorts are getting sticky by now.

His big hands rest crossed over his lap, his thighs pressed together in an attempt to hide his huge bulge.

“nhh–” he lets little sighs slip his lips. They’re barely audible. But to you, those sounds are music to your ears.

He’s slowly getting louder as you dial up the intensity. He’s biting his lip, his eyelids starting to flutter closed from the pleasure, and you watch that pink tint cover his cheekbones.

You notice his hips start to twitch as he swallows and gulps, fidgeting around helplessly. He looks like he’s going to break out in a sweat, and all you can do is sit and admire the scene.

You flick and toy with the intensity of the remote controlled vibrator with your phone. It’s quite clever, really, allowing you to give him undulating pulses of pleasure, making his hips wiggle with that dumb expression on his face, all without touching him.

He tries to hide it, nodding stiffly when anyone speaks to him.

But you keep playing, switching to sharp jolts now, making him jump and squirm in the chair. Then you bring it down, slow and steady, building him up again.

His hips start to twitch and he looks directly at you, his eyes flying wide with the shock of his impending orgasm. He shakes his head, desperately urging you to stop before he cums himself in front of your employees.

But where would be the fun in that?

You kick it up a notch and watch his eyes roll back. He barely stifles a groan, his hand flying up to slap over his mouth, startling your colleagues.

“Nhg- mhh-” he breathes heavily and presses his eyes closed for a moment. But he should know by now, you’re relentless. So you watch him stare at you in disbelief as the toy just keeps pulsing.

You torture him for a while, then round up your coffee break, dismissing your colleagues and leading him back to your office.

“Come on, pup. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

⋆

In the privacy of your office, you push him up against the door and start tugging down his pants and boxers. He tries to hide his face from the sheer embarrassment of shooting his load without being touched… from anal stimulation alone. Before you, he never knew he could do that.

But he can and he will.

Every time, without fail.

And the sight of the sticky, wet mess in his pants is starting to effect you.

He’s getting the better of you.

Day by day, it’s getting worse… your infatuation with his body is going to be the death of you. Or bankrupt you, at best.

You’ve tugged his sweats down over his muscly thighs and you’re starting to kneel on the floor below him.

His cock is still pretty swollen– you know he’s a shower, but with this girth, you can tell he’s still semi-hard.

“Sure came a lot, didn’t you?”

His beefy hands clench and tremor on the cold wood– you left the vibrator on a low setting while you inspect his cock.

He nods carefully. He doesn’t want to encourage you anymore. He dreads the overstimulation but for that, he will get a bonus.

The white liquid coats his shaft– it had nowhere else to go. So it lies slick over his skin, dripping back down to his balls. And his boxers could barely contain it.

You pull at the fabric until you’re getting him to step completely out of his clothes. You hold up his boxers in your hand and admire the mess.

“So wet. Almost came through your sweats, didn’t you?”

He winces a little– it was close. When he felt the cum spurting out his tip he just closed his eyes and hoped that no one else could see it. He felt it pouring all over his boxers. It was so wet and dirty that if he sat there for a moment longer it would’ve seeped through the sweatpants as well.

“That would’ve been embarrassing.”

You shake your head and gaze at the drippy mess of his cock.

“Aren’t you so glad I brought you back here?”

You look up at him now, pressing him to answer.

He nods rigidly.

He can do better.

With his boxers in your hand, you bring the material up to his cock and wrap it around the sticky member. You don’t want to get your hands dirty.

“You know what grateful puppies say to their owners, don’t you?”

You start wiping his cock up and down, holding him tight through the black material.

He’s pressed so close to the wooden door, trying to edge back, trying to reject the pleasure, but his cock is filling up again and you’ve got him under your thumb one more time.

And he knows you’re going to regale him with how humiliating it must’ve been to ejaculate in public. You’re going to jerk him off through his underwear, using his own cum as lube.

And he’s going to thank you for it.

“What do you say?”

Your hand is gliding up his thick cock that’s about to burst again, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, asking him how much he enjoyed being pleasured in front of your employees.

“Th-thank you–” he chokes it out and your eyes light up.

His whole body is yours. His mouth is yours. You can make him say whatever you want.

“D-do it again– again, I– want them to watch–”

But your puppy is getting ahead of himself.

You wipe his cock clean and remove your hand.

His hands jolt away from the door, desperately needing to wrap around himself to get out another milky load.

“Wait.”

He whines and his hands dig into his thighs.

You watch his cock bounce with his pulse. You want him to cum like this.

You use your phone to slide the vibrator setting up until an intense buzzing can be heard in your office. It’s vibrating against the wood, sounding through his tight muscles.

His thighs start to shake and he groans, his eyebrows knitting together with that beautiful pleasured look, his hands clenching around nothing.

“Ngh– I– I– ‘m mm– ughh–”

He can barely get any words out.

You stand up now, tracing a hand over his abs as they tense, his hips rutting wildly into the air.

“Good boy, you can cum now~”

“Th-thank you—thanggyouu—”

And you peer down his body and watch his cock erupt one more time.

It’s like a fucking fountain. You really do wonder about his stamina sometimes. But you don’t question it, just keeping your eyes fixed on the drooling cum, slick and hot, the buck of his hips slowing until the liquid comes out in little dribbles, once again, making a huge mess of himself.

And the wooden floor of your office.

“Bend over.”

He’s barely had a second to recover.

“On your knees.”

You deliver a harsh slap to his ass.

“Make a mess of my office, you clean it up.”

Once he’s done and finally clean, he fidgets about and mentions taking the vibrator out.

“Keep it.”

You wonder how far the connection will last from your phone.

And you send him on his way with another hefty payment along with promises to fulfil his fantasy.

He tried to backtrack, but you heard him.

He wants them to watch.

toji | chapters m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gn reader #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #sub toji #jjk fanfic #toji x reader

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

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Hideout (3.1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sensitive Boy, part I (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve surprises you with help at the perfect time.

Warnings for light smut (I have to split this chapter or it's just suddenly twice as long as the last, but really there's just massage and an implied orgasm in this half. You know me: too many feels and too much development...) MINORS DNI. This series is 18+ only. If you are underage or simply enjoy lighter content, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this post is not for you! WC 3.2k

With so much on your mind, scaring the crap out of you is not difficult, so his strong hands hold you upright.

“Don’t do that,” you shriek, barely glancing at Steve’s face. You startled so suddenly your housekeeping cart is left rolling away at a snail’s pace.

“Sorry, I—“ long arms abandon you and reach to stop the bin “—it said on your website you were closed for renovations, and…”

You look him up and down. You were sure after he left two months ago that you’d never see him again. You’d gone too far. You’d pushed him too hard. He wasn’t ready.

Steve adjusts the strap over his shoulder. “I thought maybe I could help out…if you want?”

The last guests checked out a half-hour ago, and you readied to spend the whole week meticulously refreshing each room with your parents. The list of what needs done, however, doesn’t only include the motel. There’s a bunch you all had let slide up at the house. Help would…be extremely helpful actually.

Steve pulls a paper bag out of his knapsack. “Or I brought you some lunch if you just want a break or something.”

“It’s okay,” you rush out. “More than okay. Thank you, yes. We’d love—I’d love that.”

No one else can know it’s him-him there though. You’ll have to think of a way to keep your parents and St-‘Grant’ as far apart as possible, and how long you can manage that is…questionable.

If Steve’s not worried though, you’re okay.

Turns out, keeping your family up at the house is easy. Your mom shouts down the phone with relief that she can tackle the fridge, and you hear your dad mumble something about ‘the garage in daylight.’ You can enjoy a sandwich in the office with Steve in peace, explaining what all needs done before the electricians show up Friday afternoon.

The closure hasn’t been planned for a long time—not even before Steve and ‘Tom’s’ last visit—hence why you just painted Room 8, 5, 2, and 1 since March, but doing all those is how you and your parents really noticed that the light fixtures from the ‘90s were not only dated but very worn and that the same color layered over and over again for twenty years was, well, getting old.

Warmer months are better for the work. Pipes won’t freeze while you air out paint fumes, etc. The week after the gigantic, city festivities of Independence Day is notoriously dead. Since there were no reservations this stretch as of April, the family jumped at the chance to fix it all in one big, daunting go.

Saying you’d looked forward to this is a wild overstatement. You’ll be glad when it’s finished, and that’s the bulk of your excitement.

With his assistance though? Hope soars.

Steve will help you take down the sconces, the hanging lamps, and the panels above the vanities, then you both can—

“Where’s the paint?”

He’s very intense with the gameplan. Three guesses why.

“Dad’s gonna pick it up today. Probably. I’ll text him.” You whip out your cell again. “We didn’t think we’d get that far by evening.”

Steve nods.

“We also need to move all the furniture away from the walls and drape plastic to protect the carpet. Oh, and put tape along the trim and doorframes, ya know.”

Steve nods again. He wads up the wrapping from his sandwich and casually asks, “are all the doors open?”

You only just get your finger in the air to point at the desk.

“Master key is—“

But Steve is observant and has clocked everything about his surroundings each time he’s stayed, apparently. He stretches over to the wall beyond the counter, snatches the (correct) unmarked key, and heads out the door.

The service bell rings gently to emphasize the conversation is over.

All furniture in every room is pulled away by the time you finish sanitizing the one guest room he interrupted.

He asks where you keep the ladder, not that he’ll need it, but you will for reaching some of the lights.

You don’t know whether to be in awe of or exhausted by his efficiency.

He’s rigid and militant—go figure—until these few moments he suddenly can’t be.

As you toss plastic over the last bed to move, Steve yanks that sucker across the floor so fast, you roll off. His eyes are saucers as he apologizes, but you get the giggles and pick yourself up.

His fingers can’t separate thin layers of the plastic at one point, and he throws a minor fit until three rip apart together. Steve frowns at you and grumbles that he’s only ever used cloth for this before. It seems to take everything in his power not to say “back in my day,” but you can read between the lines.

Years of crusted paint makes the removal of some fixtures tricky.

Steve rips out one stripped screw with needle nose pliers, squeaks in alarm at the hole left behind, and then quietly asks if you have patch paste.

You call your dad before he’s left to buy paint. He adds spackling to the list.

The closest Steve comes to telling you anything specifically about himself is when you struggle with a stuck bolt.

“Just a little trick I learned when I was—“ Steve wraps his big hand around yours to pull the wrench instead of push from the other direction “—smaller.” He huffs out a laugh, adding, “when I couldn’t, ya know, ‘put my weight into it’ because a feather could’a knocked me over.”

As you relish the simple contact of his fingers, you smile, too.

“Hmm. I heard you got into back alley scrapes.”

“If you heard that I won any of those, you were lied to.” He patiently waits for you to finish removing the bolt before he pries the aged metal and glass away from the old paint it’s stuck in. Steve sighs dramatically.

“Shoddy education these days…”

“I…” You tap his bicep with the claws of the wrench. “I can’t argue with that. We hear only what they tell us about…heroes.”

You should have known he’d shut down at that word, but it’s the truth. Even with him right in front of you, the only things you know about Steve Rogers are from books, newspapers, and the internet. At face value—looking directly into the face of this man—all of what you’ve been told is hogwash. It’s insufficient. It barely covers 1% of who this man is.

He teaches you tricks of the weak man’s trade because it helped him once, too. Today, he’s friendly. Not that he was unfriendly before, but Steve is so reserved he never reference the past, in general, i.e. that there was a past existence of like the planet much less him.

It’s the number one rule of Fight Club: you don’t talk about Fight Club.

If there was ever a real fight club, it’s the Avengers.

You have no official rules for what this is between you. You don’t have to to know that is the most important one. You do not talk about Fight Club. Steve isn’t afraid of silence, that much is clear, but he isn’t a fan. He tries—he is trying—to connect and relate. He can’t be a man of the people, however, if he can’t talk to the people.

It’s important: connection. You know with every fiber of your being that Steve deserves it, but even with unlimited, super-human strength, he cannot get himself out from between this rock and that hard place.

You do not talk about Fight Club, especially when you’ve been kicked out of Fight Club.

Today, though, he’s a little different, a little softer. Perhaps it’s knowing there are no other people in the building, perhaps he is truly more comfortable with you, but either way, Steve is not flat or off-putting.

His organized persona, his focus on the work, his indirect interactions and practical touch; they all fit here while he has a project. It’s the closest he can be to his old self, maybe even his real self, without mentioning the past—the fighting past—at all.

“You’re really good company,” you tell Steve, “even when you make holes in the walls.”

He tilts his head down and blushes. He shrugs as he takes the sconce out to the dumpster. Although he didn’t say it, you hope this is okay.

Either way, you relish it. The help. The touch. The silence. All of it.

You relish Steve.

Your dad brings by the paint, spackling, and a surprise of pizza for dinner while Steve is taping the baseboards in a corner. You introduce ‘Grant’ from afar and haul the cans and boxes from the car to the room, cataloguing all you two have finished to this point and what you’ll do before stopping for the night.

Dad is impressed. He’d suspected the three of you—you, he, and Mom, that is—might settle for slapping some paint up around where the electrician would install the new lights. No one planned on getting this far in one evening.

He won’t stand in the way of progress, so your dad simply calls out, “bit of an artist, are ya?”

Steve looks up, confident with only the side table lamps plugged in, he can barely be seen. “Just want to be useful,” he mutters.

You wink at your dad as he heads back to the still-running car. “Grant is a jack of all trades.”

You’re sure to thank him for the food and let him know all the motel stuff is completely covered for tomorrow, too. You’ll work as late as you can and start as early as possible.

Dad says your friend has gone ‘above and beyond.’ You agree wholeheartedly.

‘Grant’ would more aptly be described as a machine.

All the furniture moved, all the lights taken down, all bordering taped, and now all blemishes in the walls smoothed, your impromptu contractor finally calls it quits when he’s forced to watch stuff dry.

You’ve kept the air conditioning going in one room.

Steve tentatively asks if he should walk you up to the house, but you counter with “it’s not any less dangerous for an average guy alone to return” and a cheeky smirk. Besides, it is very late. You let Captain OCD keep going; you tapped out a while ago.

He puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, thinking of a comeback that never manifests. After giving up, Steve takes his tiny bag into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.

You can faintly hear it over the murmur of the TV.

You aren’t really watching. It’s background noise to your general exhaustion.

With only a side lamp and the screen as light, Steve’s bare feet crumple over the discarded plastic sheet on the floor. He falls into one side of the bed, fully-clothed and (finally) tired.

Though productive, the day has been a distant one, working in different rooms for most of it and tiptoeing around real conversation. You want him to feel appreciated, not pressured, so you ask if he’d like the TV on for a while or would rather quiet.

Steve just grunts with his eyes closed.

Gently, you place a hand on his chest to steady you, leaning to kiss his bearded cheek.

“Thank you, Steve,” you say softly. “Good night.”

He hums when you say his name, and before you can lift your hand away, he captures it under his, holding you in place.

His eyes aren’t open. He can’t see you smile wider.

“Okay.” You tuck yourself into his chest as he raises his other arm out of the way. “Okay.”

Your ear sits in the dip beneath his collarbone, listening to his steady heart, his thumb sweeping back and forth over you knuckles.

He smushes you closer to his side. You toss your leg over his.

You forget to turn off the TV.

He’s sanding the spackled spots by the time you wake, so you rub across his back and dismiss yourself to get breakfast up at the house.

Steve makes no effort to go with, which is fine. You assumed as much.

Your dad calls Grant a ‘magician’ over the pop of oil in the skillet and insists you give your friend whatever he needs to keep working so fast. You are only half-joking when you admit the key is staying out of his way.

Bonus: the exchange reinforces your parents simply leaving the two of you alone down the hill, and you proudly tell Steve that when delivering him an enormous plate of scrambled eggs.

He jumps right back into planning-mode and orders you to roll the first coat of paint onto large areas. He’ll follow, completing the edges and corners.

It’s such a domestic thing to do. There is no one in danger, there are no bodies piling up if he makes a wrong move, and he can go faster or take his sweet time. Steve breaks when he wants or needs to. He sits outside and listens to the birds in the sunshine. No one is around to question him, not even you. You are only there to encourage.

You realize he was looking for a project. He’s used to—and likes—being busy, getting his hands dirty, producing results.

It’s a long, messy day where he becomes more serene in spirit the more intensely he works. You reward him with gentle sweeps of your hand down his arms, pats on his shoulders, and brushes at the small of his back.

Despite the almost constant movement, the day is over before you know it, earlier than yesterday, but it’s too hot to go on.

All the windows stay open to air out the fumes.

Though it won’t stop you from sweating, you both shower off as many splatters and flecks of paint as you can. You insist he goes first so there’s plenty of hot water.

He’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, checking his phone when you come out of the bathroom, but he immediately squirrel the device away in his small bag. Not much to carry around. Not much to leave behind. Steve can’t leave a trace of himself anywhere.

Hunched over and fatigued, he flashes a polite smile your way and blinks heavily.

He deserves the world.

You grab the small bottle of lotion from the countertop and playfully jump onto the bed behind him.

“How about a massage, yeah? You much be aching.”

Honestly, you don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but the phrase comes out downright dirty, making Steve awkwardly chuckle.

“You don’t have to,” he placates.

“Nonsense, I want to. It’ll make the air feel cooler.” That’s as good of an excuse as any. Who cares when the rippled expanse of his back flexes wildly in your touch?

His breathes are audible from the beginning.

You dig at his traps, his leg bouncing as he tries to relax. You use your thumbs, the flats of your hands, and your knuckles.

He shoves his fist in his mouth when he starts to moan, covering the move with a cough, but muffling the noise is abandoned in favor of clasping over his lap. He’s intent on hiding his hardness this time. There’s nothing you can say to truly lessen the sting of needing more. You can’t simply tell him he’s allowed to desire this; you have to ignore his misplaced shame.

But you can take pity on him.

“If you lie flat—“ you step off the bed to give him privacy “—I’ll have more leverage.”

You hear him crawl and adjust on the sheets. “Unlike the torque on a wrench,” you add, just to show you’ve been listening to him.

More lotion is needed for the surface area.

You turn up the TV, feining interest in the late night show so any noise he makes is not as obvious. What the speakers can’t cover, however, is Steve’s involuntary thrusts when you rub the heels of you palms up and down the sides of his spine. If you prop up on your knees, he has more range of motion and doesn’t obviously rock you while mindlessly humping the bed.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, two darts of muscle prominent above his ass.

They are irresistible, the perfect grooves to target and roll into, and he immediately mewls long and deep into the mattress, fingers curling and relaxing while his body seizes.

He hasn’t even finished coming, you think, before he taps at your leg and races to the bathroom.

You hope you didn’t push too far. You hope he’d tell you to stop if he needs more space, more time. Mostly, you hope he knows you’d give him every conceivable pleasure, just because he is him.

The water runs a long time, continuous splashing in the sink, and then nothing.

He didn’t bring much because he doesn’t have much. Your heart sinks, realizing you’ve made him soil one of only two pairs of pants he has here.

He cracks open the door, muttering, but you can’t make out the words.

You turn the volume back down. “What?”

“It pretty hot.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I sleep…without…?”

“Naked?” you squeak before composing yourself. “That’s fine. Whatever’s comfortable.”

You shuffle up the bed to click off the lamps. This man isn’t the type to strut around in the nude—yet, anyway—so in the faint and ever-shifting glow of the screen across the room very little can be seen.

‘Little,’ however, can’t describe anything that is visible about the man emerging from the bathroom.

You have to make a point not to stare, but no skit or commercial on the channel promises the same level of entertainment.

Steve slides himself beneath the sheet, sitting near the headboard.

You hold up the remote. “On or off?”

“Off,” he says, “please.”

You’ve certainly done enough for one day. You won’t push your luck, so you hit the power button, toss it on table, and snuggle into your half of the bed, facing away.

“If it’s too hot for any covers, that’s okay, too.”

A rustling interrupts the rhythmic whir of crickets in the night until you feel a warm hand lightly mold to your waist.

This should be encouraged. This should be rewarded.

“Hey, Stevie,” you whisper, waiting for his hum, “happy belated birthday.”

At most you expect a grip of notice, but instead, the big hand snakes across you and hauls you into his chest, his long legs bending to match the crook of yours, his nose and forehead tucked against your occipital.

“We did okay today,” Steve mumbles into your shirt.

You walk your hand over your stomach to find his, lacing the fingers together. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

Steve got to be useful today. He had a partner today. He will tomorrow and the day after, for as long as he stays, for as long as you’re alive. Nothing can change that.

Maybe he can’t talk about Fight Club, but he connects with you anyway.

A/N: Whoopsy. Didn't want to make y'all wait for a 6k+ chapter, so here's the first half! I am DEEP in the feels of this one. So, so many notes have been taken. The brainrot is real, and I fucking love it!!!!

[Next: Sensitive Boy, part II]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

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192 notes · View notes

yumeka-sxf · 10 months

Text

Was not expecting such a major cliffhanger at the end of today's chapter!

What's interesting is that Twilight could have shot Yuri but he hesitates (note the "waver" sfx in the panel where he's holding his gun).

Another subtlety is that Twilight is the one lowering his gun on the next page.

And there was also only one "bang" in the next panel.

Then we get the scene with Yor, obviously foreshadowing this bad turn of events.

She seems to have forgiven Loid and is only upset with Yuri for suspecting him of cheating...obviously because she was never truly angry at him to begin with and only invented those "gripes" to seem normal.

The blood dripping in the final panel of the chapter is not from Yor's cut but from the previous scene of Twilight vs Yuri (it's a bit confusing since it immediately follows the panel of her looking at her cut, but you can see the pebbles on the ground, so it's not in the kitchen).

My guess is that Twilight is the one who got shot, for the reasons I pointed out before of him seeming to hesitate about shooting Yuri. It makes sense since he knows that Yor would be devastated if anything happened to him. And maybe, deep down, he's grown slightly fond of his wacky brother-in-law. On the other hand, Yuri doesn't know that Loid is Twilight...but if he did, would he hesitate too, for the same reason? Regardless, I doubt the wound will be fatal, but it looks bad enough to be something that Loid (or Yuri) won't be able to hide from Yor or anyone else. Some people are speculating that Twilight and Yuri will meet up back at the Forger house, and Loid will have to somehow hide his injury to keep Yuri from being suspicious. But we'll see! I don't want to theorize too deeply since the arc is still ongoing and anything could happen. Heck, someone else could have gotten involved off-panel and will turn out to be the one who actually got shot. So many possibilities!

But gosh, this arc is turning out to be exciting! I wasn't sure at first, but now I think there's a chance we will indeed get something major from it, like an identity reveal for Yuri and Twilight. Or Twilight could manage to get away without Yuri finding out that he's Loid. But we haven't even seen the real Wheeler yet, and I feel like the arc wouldn't end without him showing up, and probably interacting with Twilight.

Gah, this is really shaping up to be a long and possibly plot-altering arc! The two-week wait for the next chapter will be torture! But at least (per this latest illustration from Endo), Anya is having a nice time at the zoo.

I can already envision her shocked expressions when she reads Mama's, Papa's, and Uncle's minds later.

#spy x family #spy family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers #yuri briar

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makeste · 4 months

Text

BnHA Chapter 409: Bro I’m Straight Up Having a Good Time

Previously on BnHA: AFO murdered his brother like the mischievous knave he is. Bruce was all, “hey Kudou don’t look now but I think Yoichi might have given you his secret quirk that we didn’t know he had.” Kudou was all, “damn that’s wild, it almost feels like this is a pivotal moment that will change all our destinies forever, you’d think Horikoshi would have spent just a little more time elaborating on this but I GUESS NOT.” Back in the present day, AFO was all, “I’m just going to use all my quirks at once because fuck this kid,” and Katsuki was all, “lol oh shit.”

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all, “okay, I know I should be hopelessly outclassed, but hear me out: what if I just win anyway. What if I just go ahead and blow his shit up, because this is the final battle, and this is what all of my character development has been building up to since day one. What if I just beat him, because I’m the guy who wins. Simple as that. What if I just kick his ass with my one quirk, and prove all the haters wrong.” Horikoshi is all, “okay, sure.” AFO is all, “wait, wha -- ”

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my g

huh. well I wasn’t expecting to start tearing up less than two panels into this chapter but HERE WE ARE

I love that he’s screaming and crying with his balled up little fist right from the get go lol. he was born a pissed off baby

he’s so squishy

and so tiny!!!!?!?! !?!??!?!

and he was RAISED WITH LOVE. fucking thank you, lol. gonna print that out and frame it on my wall. turn it into a flashing neon sign to give me comfort any time I stumble across stray Mitsuki discourse lol

anyway. oh my goodness. if this is a sign of things to come, there’s a very strong possibility this chapter may destroy me. how exciting!!

yep. yep yep yep. this is for sure going to be the chapter that finally does me in. it’s been a great ride folks

you better not be thinking any thoughts about dying, young man. this had better be meant in the sense of “because I’ll be by your side supporting you instead”, as opposed to “because I will be a little pile of dust in about three seconds’ time oh shit”

(ETA: after finishing the rest of the chapter, I’m pretty sure it’s the former! the first flashback is a reference to his chapter 120 speech -- “even higher than you, Chosen One.” the second is a throwback to chapter 247, when he told Endeavor he only had his one quirk, but it was strong enough to do anything he wanted to do. and the third flashback is one he also had at Jakku when he sacrificed himself to push Izuku out of the way.

so to me, this reads like (1) a reminder of his determination to surpass Izuku and become the strongest hero; (2) foreshadowing for him defeating AFO with Explosion, the Little Quirk That Could; and (3) a reminder of his “origin.” that last one being important because nowadays it’s just as strong of a motivator as his original goal. back at the beginning of the series, all he cared about was being the strongest. now, though, he’s not just fighting for himself; he’s also fighting to atone, and he’s learned to put himself aside if necessary.

as for the dialogue, this reads like a continuation of his mental conversation with Izuku that he began in chapter 362 (“gotta win... right, Izuku?” “so, Izuku... can I still catch up to you?”), and then continued in chapter 406 (“for some reason, I feel like I could overtake you now”). so in that context, “I’ll no longer get in your way” basically means that he’s done chasing Izuku, and that he’s caught up now and can hold his own. his determination to get stronger hasn’t wavered. his confidence in his own quirk and his own skills hasn’t wavered. and his resolve to atone for everything he did to Izuku is as strong as ever. put those all together, and we have the recipe for quite a spectacular redemption fight. his follow-up to chapter 362.

because earlier when he fought Tomura/AFO, he was basically just trying to buy time. no one ever planned or expected him to have to face the Big Bad one-on-one; that was supposed to be Izuku’s job. he was only meant to be there as support. and in the end he wasn’t strong enough, and he nearly died. and rather than being able to support Izuku, he ended up being used against him.

but this time is different. he’s no longer the decoy, the distraction. he’s no longer the pebble. he won’t get in Izuku’s way, because this time he’s going to be strong enough to win the fight. he’s going to hold his own, and get the job done.

so yeah. “I won’t get in your way” = “you can depend on me”, basically. because he’s become that guy at last. the guy who shows up in the clutch and wins the day. the hero he always wanted to be. good stuff.)

OH MY GOD

once again, just really solid hero advice from All Might here. there’s a reason he’s the GOAT

lol but in all seriousness it does tug at my heart to see him shouting so desperately at this kid. especially knowing that he’s presumably feeling the same pride and awe that I am, but with a lot more heart-stopping terror mixed in because unlike me, All Might doesn’t know that Kacchan is actually going to live forever. he narrated chapter 285, All Might, have a little faith

AFO is the extra-est mfer to ever live. but also it really tickles me to think that Kacchan pissed him off THIS much. it’s kind of an honor in a way

of course his plan is to simply just blow AFO up. of fucking COURSE it is. maybe there will be brain cells later on in this chapter, but for now who even needs them lol

OH MY GOD?!?

DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST BLOW THE FUCK UP FROM THE INSIDE?? am I seeing this right?? DID KACCHAN JUST SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST ALL FOR ONE WITH HIS MIND

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

(ETA: shoutout to AFO for being so analytical when I personally would have just been screaming, “OH MY GOD MY FUCKING EYEBALLS AHHHHHHHHHH.”)

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING THOUGH!! HIS POWER WASN’T DONE AWAKENING YET, APPARENTLY??

oh no wait it’s even better. this isn’t Awakening at all, this is just Katsuki playing 5D chess

so he actually did have brain cells the whole time then! Katsuki I sincerely apologize. you somehow had the presence of mind to make a goddamn minefield even in the midst of all of this hullaballoo

AND HE’S HUMBLE TOO LMAO

it’s true!! I’m people!! please ignore the multitude of times I’ve previously called him a dumbass, including earlier in this very chapter lol

hahahahaha yesssssssss

this chapter is incredibly validating for a number of reasons. I’m going to attempt to remain calm about it. but I’m enjoying this a lot ngl

oh AFO

:D :D :D

(ETA: you know what, I actually do have more to say about this. because I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve debated with people about this very thing, lol. for a while there post-Jakku it was just constant pessimism about Kacchan’s future in the manga. all this stuff about how Katsuki doesn’t have a main villain. Katsuki isn’t important enough. Katsuki is being phased out. Katsuki isn’t strong enough. Katsuki’s done developing. Katsuki’s just a joke character now. Katsuki’s just the damsel in distress. Katsuki’s always going to be second fiddle to Izuku. etc. etc. etc.

and then this chapter -- this whole entire fight, really -- comes along, and it’s just nonstop rebuttals, lol. and it’s not just that he’s proving all the negativity wrong. it’s that he doesn’t even care about any of that. AFO is out here trying to goad him with that same “YOU’RE JUST A SIDE CHARACTER” bait, and in response Katsuki just hits him with a Howitzer and tells him to shut the fuck up. AFO thinks he can get to him by being petty, because AFO still sees him as the bratty kid from the Sports Festival. but the present day Katsuki has long since moved past all of that, and no longer gives a fuck whether or not he shares the spotlight. unlike AFO, who never lost his childish egotism, Katsuki has learned to see outside himself, and the resulting growth has made him a bigger badass than AFO could ever hope to be.)

(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶

ouch

HAHAHAHAHA

bro I’m straight up having a good time. this recap is gonna suck this week because there’s absolutely no commentary I can think of to add other than “I’M REALLY ENJOYING THIS, THIS IS GREAT”

I want to take this entire chapter and get it tattooed on my face

sorry AFO. this must really suck for you

lmao. is that all Kacchan. tell him how you really feel

OH MY GOD NO WAY LOL

so, fun fact, I literally just read chapter 385 last night lmao. most fortunate timing I’ve ever had, holy shit

okay so lemme just add some more thoughts on this one really quick

Hawks deserves all the nice things in the world and I’m so sad I can’t give them to him, but at least he gets this. sweet sassy revenge

I am once again calling everyone’s attention to the fact that AFO continues to be his own undoing. congrats on screwing yourself over bucko

Kacchan’s sleeve ripping up Deku-style is once again making my Plus OFA Theory senses all tingly. it probably is just a coincidence and has nothing to do with OFA, but I can’t unassociate it now, so I’m just gonna sit here and read as much into it as possible

if I had a nickel for every time AFO’s eyes blew up in this chapter, I would have two nickels, and that is way too many fucking nickels jesus christ

ever since he came back from the dead, Kacchan’s been doing this thing where he is just really pretty at all times, even when he is being a gremlin. and honestly it’s taken some getting used to, although I’m not complaining

but like in this panel especially, it just really stands out to me how even his “GRYAHHH I’M GONNA KILL YA!!!” face somehow has this really cool, intense, piercing glare now and he no longer looks like a baby troll when he does this kind of thing lol

OH FUCK YEAH

୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨

“THERE’S NO WAY I COULD’VE WON THIS ALONE.” OMG. THAT KACCHAN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT JUST HITS DIFFERENT EVERY DAMN TIME, I SWEAR

he and Hawks basically pulled a “you hold him and I’ll punch” lol. thanks for the assist Hawks

Mitsuki and Masaru being all, “my little baby boy!!” and “HOLY SHIT”, respectively, sent me all the way to the moon lmao

HELLO THERE YOICHI? fancy running into you here. just chilling out over in this montage of people close to Bakugou who are watching him kick ass. did you take a wrong turn, mayhap. you’re not inside of AFO, we know that much. and Deku, much as I’m sure he’d love to have a front row seat to all this, seems to have his hands full dealing with Tomura right now, sadly

so all of that does seem to raise an interesting question, no? where did you come from just now, and why? and when Kacchan says he’s not alone, is there perhaps more truth to that statement than even he knows? or am I once again just reading way too much into this lmao

anyway so yeah! that sure was fun. and with the end of the year approaching and back-to-back two-week chapter breaks coming up, I have a chance to do the funniest thing of all time, and still not manage to catch up, lol. nah but I’m gonna try my best though. pretty sure I should be able to manage

#bnha 409 #bakugou katsuki #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is late I've been trying to post it for almost an hour #the 'post now' button was infuriatingly greyed out for some reason #ended up having to copy everything over to a brand new post and redo all the pics and formatting #thanks tumblr

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seabirdtxt · 11 months

Text

Deus Vocat

'Just how close to divinity does the god-machine get?' Pretty darn close, as it turns out. The rest is entirely up to you and Scaramouche. [p1] [p2 - you are here!] [p3]

Notes: Genshin SAGAU, cult au, mostly confusion and miscommunication in this one. mild swearing. still pre-3.2 plotwise!

WC. 1.6k

----- ⚘ -----

Three days and three nights. That’s how long Scaramouche waited to hear Your voice again. The more the hours drew out, his temper became increasingly volatile every time the nervous technicians would open the Shouki no Kami’s cockpit to check up on him.

Each time he would kick them out and slam the cockpit shut, even nearly taking off a mechanic’s arm with the face plates. His patience runs thinner with every passing moment.

Nearing dawn of the fourth day, finally he feels that strange buzzing connecting behind his ears. He stiffens and pulls himself upright, blinking weariness out of his eyes.

“Your Grace?” he mumbles, the sudden drop in pressure in the cockpit makes him dizzy. “Is that you?”

Your voice crackles over the connection, sounding a little farther away. “Hey, yeah, it’s me again. How're you holding up?”

“What took you so long?” is what he replies, the words coming to him despite his head warning him that You are the Divine Creator. “Do you know how much work I could’ve gotten done in the time you took to get back to me?”

“What? It’s been, like, an hour at most.” You reply, sounding skeptical. “Don’t tell me you’re the impatient type.”

“An- an hour?!” Scaramouche runs the math in his head quickly, frowning. “Is there such a time dilation between your realm and mine?”

“What do you mean?”

Scaramouche growls with frustration, rubbing his temples as he feels a headache coming on. “What are you not understanding here? I didn’t think the Creator would be so ignorant of their own creation.”

“... what?”

“Are you being deliberately obtuse? Are you even who you say you are? You wouldn’t be the first to have delusions of grandeur to bring some sort of momentary excitement into their pathetic, insignificant lives.”

“Woah, calm down, buddy,” you say, a warning in your voice. “Let’s just take it from the top, okay? Hello, my name is,” you repeat your name for him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Scaramouche takes a breath and rolls his eyes, then reluctantly complies with the direction you’re taking.

“Hello, I’m Scaramouche, The Balladeer, Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, and I’m currently dealing with an idiot problem.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide for now,” you respond curtly. “Now tell me, ‘Scaramouche’, why did you call me today?”

“You say it as if I somehow did it on purpose.”

“Didn’t you?” The raised eyebrow is audible in your tone.

“Of course not!” Scaramouche snaps, patience waning. “Dottore’s stupid god-machine did something to my head, obviously, and now there’s some kind of connection to you that I have no idea how to control.”

“... god-machine?” you ask, sounding genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The god-machine that the sages commissioned,” Scaramouche explains slowly, smugly, as if he’s talking to a child. “If the gnosis’ connection to divinity is successful, I will be named the new deity of Sumeru and take over the position of that pathetic little god, Buer.”

“You’re going to what to who?” you question again. “Hang on, is this spoilers? I didn’t get that far in the story yet…”

“What do you mean, ‘story’?” It’s Scaramouche’s turn to be confused now.

“Y’know, ‘cause you’re RPing that guy from the game, right? I’m not at that point in the questline yet so, uh, thanks for spoiling the story for me, I guess.”

“This isn’t a game!” His temper flares and he pounds his fist against the face panel of the cockpit, the clang resounding in his ears. “Damn you, is that how you see us, then? As some kind of sick game for your personal amusement?”

“Wow, you’re really taking this personally, huh? It’s not that serious, man, you need to calm down for a sec-”

“I will not be calm!” Scaramouche thrashes about in the cockpit, kicking and punching the interior and creating a hellish metallic sound. Behind him, the tubes slap and rattle around, threatening to disconnect from his sockets if he continues his tantrum. “The Divine Creator just told me that they view our existence as a game!”

Your voice takes on a tone of annoyance, though you appear to be trying to suppress it. “Listen, I looked it up on the wiki, and there's nothing there about this supposed ‘Creator’ character, so I know you’re full of shit. Just cut it out, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Scaramouche shouts into the empty cockpit. And that’s the root of the problem, isn’t it? Clearly he and the Creator aren’t seeing eye to eye on something, here, and it’s causing a terrible miscommunication.

With a great heaving sigh, he tries to reign in his temper.

“What can I do to prove to you that I’m serious, right now?” He asks through gritted teeth.

There's a sound like static that fills his head and he cries out in pain, clutching his ears as if that might stop the noise.

“Hypothetically, let’s say you’re Scaramouche from the game,” Your voice filters in through the static. “Like, the actual NPC or something. The only way I’d believe you is if you do something in-game that’s out of the ordinary. I’m logging in right now, so if there’s something weird happening I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Scaramouche’s thoughts race through his head, though he has no idea what half of the words you say mean, and he wracks his mind trying to think of something he could do to show his presence.

“Where… where are you right now?”

“I’m doing the quest in Pardis Dhyai,” you answer, and sure enough Scaramouche feels a faint tug that he’s come to associate with the Traveler’s presence coming from the direction of the laboratory. “I’m fighting with some Eremites right now.”

Pardis Dhyai, where he knows Haypasia is being kept. The woman had connected with his consciousness briefly during one of the early god-machine tests Dottore had forced him to do. It very nearly put him out of commission for a week, but sharing his consciousness had been proof irrefutable that he could channel divinity, at the time.

“Okay, stay there, I’m going to try something.” He says, and attempts to concentrate on the location. In his mind, he conjures the feeling of static and ozone and aims, internally cheering when he feels the power connect with bodies. “Did you see that? Did I get them?”

“Get what?”

“The thunderbolts!” He says, incredulous. Surely there was no way to miss that, right?

“That’s part of the quest, I saw the walk through of this part,” you huff. “You’re really not convincing me, here.”

Frustration bubbles up and Scaramouche chews his thumb as he tries to think of something else, and that’s when he feels it.

The Traveler touches Haypasia.

A bolt of energy courses through his head, and in the distorted reflection of the metal cockpit he sees his eyes flash again.

He follows an instinct, reaching out to Haypasia’s consciousness and, by extension, the Traveler. He grabs the tether in his mind and pulls, feeling himself travel across time and space, until he’s in Pardis Dhyai.

He blinks and looks around, the faded scenery looking exactly as it had when Haypasia had contacted him. There, standing beside his follower’s unconscious body, is the Traveler.

“Where are you?” Scaramouche asks through the connection, trying to sense if you've left him once again. “There’s nobody else here.”

“... Huh.” Your voice comes through the connection in his head, but also through vibrations in the air. “That’s definitely not part of the cutscene.”

“What the hell is a cutscene?” He demands, still looking around for the source of your voice.

“Right, that’s creepy. Is this a glitch?”

“If you tell me what your words mean, maybe I can tell you.” Scaramouche growls, then points at the Traveler. “You, where is the Creator? I know they’re around here somewhere, I can feel it.”

“No way.” You say, incredulously.

“Huh?”

“Scaramouche, jump up and down three times.”

He looks around again, before settling his gaze on the Traveler. “Why should I do that?”

“You’re trying to prove that you're in the game, right? I can see you right now, so if it’s really you I want you to jump up and down three times.”

Feeling supremely foolish, but willing to humor you on the off chance you aren’t lying to him, Scaramouche gives three halfhearted hops, and immediately crosses his arms.

“Happy now?” he growls.

To his extreme surprise, and slight horror, the Traveler jumps three times as well.

“Oh my god, you’re actually in the game? Like, you’re the character in the game?” You ask, breathless, a tinge of hysteria creeping in. “No way. This doesn’t happen in real life. Games don’t just become self-aware like this. Am I dreaming?”

“Whatever you’re talking about, you better tell me really quick or else…” Scaramouche trails off for a moment, unsure of what he could really do to you, given the metaphorical distance. “Or else I’ll be really angry with you,” he finishes lamely. In front of him, the Traveler’s eyebrows furrow slightly.

“You’re not supposed to, like, know about me,” you continue, raising in octave slowly. “You’re not real! Is my life just a creepypasta right now?”

“Would you cut that out?!” Scaramouche half-shouts, in an attempt to be heard over your frantic voice. He can feel the connection between the two of you waver with each passing second. “Whatever you’re doing, stop panicking!”

“I think I’d like to panic, actually,” you say, and the connection goes dead.

Empty air fills the space behind Scaramouche’s ears, and he snarls in frustration at having been left hanging once again. For a second, he almost forgets the presence of the third party in the room. He looks up and stops his muttering at the sight of the Traveler’s dumbfounded, and slightly scared expression.

“You can hear them?”

#genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau #genshin self aware au #genshin isekai #sagau cult au #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #sagau x reader #scaramouche x reader #seabird.txt #Voice of God AU

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officialah · 7 months

Text

Achievement Hunter is changing and we're taking you with us

As you may have noticed, Achievement Hunter has gone through a number of changes this year. We’ve grown a bit smaller as our cast has moved on to work on exciting new ventures, including Inside Gaming and VTubing. Today, we are pleased to announce the launch of Dogbark, a new content group featuring Michael Jones, Alfredo Diaz, Trevor Collins, and Joe Lee.

Rooster Teeth is at its best when employees have been given the opportunity to pursue new creative passions. Fifteen years ago, this meant giving Geoff the ability to create Achievement Hunter. And today, this means letting the Achievement Hunter cast move on to new creative projects.

Over the last few years, this has allowed our cast to put time into creating F**kface, ANMA, Red Web, Face Jam, and more. More recently, Jack and BK have put their efforts into streaming at Inside Gaming, Lindsay has begun exploring Vtubing as Ruby, and Ky is producing multiple projects, including some of those listed above.

With all of our new focuses, this means we will not be actively creating content for the Achievement Hunter channel. Let’s Play will also look a little bit different moving forward, but we can assure you that it’s not going anywhere, and it’s in great hands.

But why Dogbark, and not just new shows under the Achievement Hunter banner? At this point in our creative careers, we have grown as both people and as entertainers. Much like how early Achievement Hunter evolved from video game guides to Let’s Plays, we’re looking to take Dogbark in a bold new direction that is more heavily focused on improv and sketch comedy. It’s new. It’s fun. It’s weird. And it’s such a departure from what Achievement Hunter has been that we feel Dogbark is truly its own thing.

We’re very excited to share these projects with all of you, and we really do hope you’ll enjoy all the new content we have in store. Through the years, we’ve reached heights we never thought possible–from Haunter to the Hardcore series, from RTX Panels to AH Live Tours. Whether you joined us back in 2008 or 2023, we couldn’t have done this without you. We have been met with so much support as we’ve grown and changed over the years, and we can’t thank you enough for that.

We know this news might be shocking and saddening for you. It’s bittersweet. On one hand, we’re saying “See you later” to a truly indescribable brand. On the other, we’re getting to pursue new passions, explore, test ourselves as creators, and that’s an incredibly exciting experience. It’s hard to do the same thing for our whole lives, and we shouldn’t have to. But, just because we’re not a part of AH anymore doesn’t mean that we didn’t appreciate the time spent there, or with you.

It’s okay to be sad; it’s okay to take time to process. After, when you’re ready, come join us over at Inside Gaming, F**kface, RWBY’s Twitch, Dogbark, Red Web, Face Jam, ANMA, and So…Alright. We’ll be waiting for you.

Love,

-AH

To watch our full video on this, check out this link: https://youtu.be/YVgACDwlgq0 To learn more about our future projects, check out the links below.

Dogbark - www.youtube.com/@dogbarkshow || /www.instagram.com/dogbarkshow/

F**kface - www.youtube.com/@fckfacepod || twitter.com/FuckFacePod

Inside Gaming -www.twitch.tv/roosterteeth || www.youtube.com/@insidegaming

RWBY Twitch - www.twitch.tv/rwby_vt

We’ve anticipated your questions and have created an FAQ below that will hopefully provide answers.

Where are [insert the AH person you are looking for] going?

Honestly, nowhere. They’re still here at Rooster Teeth, but are jumping into new exciting opportunities that bring them joy and passion.Geoff and Gavin are focusing on F**kface, Jack and BK are streaming over with Inside Gaming, Lindsay is launching a RWBY Vtubing Twitch, and Ky is producing these projects. Michael, Trevor, Alfredo, and Joe are excited to announce their new project, Dogbark, which launches 10/2.

Does this mean AH content is going away?

Nope. It’ll exist in perpetuity online. Both on Rooster Teeth Site and Apps as well as the AH YouTube channel.

Will AH ever return?

Think of it like your favorite band going on hiatus. We don’t want to close the door completely and turn off all the lights. There’s always the chance that One Direction will come back.

Is Let’s Play content and channel going away?

Also nope! But stay tuned, you might recognize who will start showing up (and reshowing up) there.

#achievement hunter #roosterteeth #i just want to say #that i love all of you so much - shelby #thank you #<3

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seaslugfanclub · 5 months

Note

Hello!! I love your Disney holo!villains, your writing style is just absolutely lovely!

Could I please request the reader fixing a meet-n-greet gone wrong with some of the less popular villains of your choice?? Can't imagine they take very well to being disregarded or unacknowledged...

No pressure and have a lovely day! 😁

It makes my day when one of my favorite Disney villain blogs asks for a request 😭 I hope I delivered!

Meet-N-Greet gone wrong

————————————————————————

It’s Meet-n-greet day at Disney! A perfect day for the resident narcissists to get their daily praise in!

(Y/N), who was assigned to supervise the event wasn’t concerned about the panel. Usually all the Villains acted on their best behavior, happy to receive any compliments from annoying millennials in $50 mouse ears.

This Meet-n-greet was a special event, where all villains including lesser known members where present. And even though they were to prideful to admit it, villains like Alameda, Medusa, Rourke, and Sykes where looking forwards to the event.

Before the panel, (Y/N) walked by their dressing rooms and noticed the extra care they took into getting ready.

Alameda pulling on a new pair of suede chaps, Medusa perming her hair as she did her nails, Rourke spritzed some of his favorite cologne, and Sykes made sure to choose some of his finest cufflinks. All minor details, but (Y/N) could tell how excited they where to receive some attention.

Unfortunately the meet-n-greet went like any other, with guests only being interested in the big bads. Cooing over their favorites, asking for autographs and photos. The whole works. All the while the other villains where cast to the sidelines, getting increasingly frustrated as the event went on.

(Y/N), taking notice of this, tried to bring a group of park goers over to the others, both as a way to keep the mainline villains from getting overwhelmed and to get some attention on the lesser known characters.

Unfortunately the guests where not interested..

“And this here is Alameda Slim! A master cow wrangler and genius yodeler from the 2004 film ‘Home on the Range’! He also tried to burn down a local Texas road house!” (Y/N) motioned up at the cowboy, who tilted his hat in pride.

“…what? Yodeling? That’s one of the worst sounds known to man, can we go back to the others, I wanna meet Jafar!” Some person in the group spoke up, with the others murmuring in agreement.

“Wuh- worst sounds!? I’LL SHOW YA WORST SOUNDS YOU LITTLE-”

The meet-n-greet dissolved into chaos as Alameda tried to lunge at the rude guest, who by some miracle didn’t get choked out as (Y/N) held him back with the combined effort of Rourke and Sykes.

Needless to say the panel ended early, with the excuse of the heat getting to the villains. Villains like Cruella and Gaston where pissed the praise ended so soon, while others like Hook and Hades were glad finally to be left alone.

Later that night, Alameda was brought out of his brooding when a quick knock came from his door, which revealed a smiling (Y/N).

(Y/N) dragged him downstairs into the employee break room, where he was met with his fellow villains, all sharing the same confused expression.

“Listen, I know that today was a shit show. And I’m sorry that it seems like no one acknowledges you. But I wanted to show you all something…”

(Y/N) proceeded to pull out their laptop from their work bag, opening it up as they motioned the villains to gather round.

“I wanted to show you all that there are people who love you guys, they’re entire blogs dedicated to you all from people across the world. I’m actually apart of some.”

Alameda and the others where shocked as (Y/N) shared with them all the fanart, ramblings, and imagines about them. Medusa jumped up and down in place pressing close to (Y/N) to get a better look at the screen. Rourke, who was never a fan of the internet grumbled to himself, but had an amused grin on his face.

Alameda felt the frustration of the day fade into obscurity as he guffawed at the things people where writing about him. At one point Sykes began to gag at some of the more.. suggestive content, which only led to more laughter from the group

The entire night was spent scrolling through the countless blogs, laughing and cringing until the laptop ran out of battery

————————————————————————

This was a little love letter to our community, you all are such talented creators and I’m so lucky to be apart of this small corner of the internet!

I feel like we would both traumatize and flatter Disney Villains if they saw what we write about them 🤣 Frollo would probably turn to dust

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #disney x reader #alameda slim #atlantis the lost empire #home on the range #oliver and company #the rescuers #disney hades

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alltoowelltom · 2 years

Text

hold your horses! (t.h)

tom holland x reader

summary: rumors fly during an interview leading to a shock announcement for tom and his girlfriend

a/n: inspired by a tiktok i saw months ago and have not stopped thinking abt since i literally could not think of one panel-type event that wasnt comic-con i am so sorry flsjsjksjs

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Tom shifts in his seat, running one hand through his curls as he tries to keep his face animated and stop his eyes glazing over. he's been sat on a vaguely uncomfortable chair for the last hour or so at Comic-Con, promoting his latest movie and as much as he loves his job and the fans, all he wants to do is crawl into bed and curl up next to you for a good twelve hours.

"Tom?" prompts the interviewer.

"I- I'm so sorry, what was your question?" he asks, flushing in embarrassment at being caught zoning out.

"Is Y/N here today?" repeats the interviewer patiently.

Tom grins at the mention of your name and he sits up taller, eyes scanning the crows until he finds you, hoodie pulled up over your head to hide from eagle-eyed fans.

"She is, yeah. I basically dragged her here so we could kind of spend time together, as an apology." he admits.

"An apology?" the interviewer says. "What did you do, Tom?"

"Yeah, what did you do, Tom?" echoes one of his co-stars, laughing.

"I fell asleep during our movie date." Tom admits sheepishly, shaking his head at the roar of laughter from the crowd. "Twenty minutes in, I was out cold."

"You didn't!" laughs the interviewer. "What did she do?"

"She was the absolute best, of course. She just held me and stroked my hair and wrapped me up in a blanket and then stayed on the sofa with me all night." he says, eyes crinkling at the general "awww" from the crowd.

The interviewer's eyes glint mischievously as Tom tells his story, clearly sensing a way to divert the interview to The Good Stuff™.

"So speaking of Y/N, there's been a lot of talk about you two online recently." he starts. "Specifically, engagement rumors? Is there any basis, any truth to these rumors?"

Tom shifts around as he stalls for time until he can meet your eyes in the crowd, raising his fluffy eyebrow ever so slightly to silently ask if you're okay with him talking about your relationship. You give him a tiny nod, encouraging him to go on.

"No, we're not engaged." he says. "But we've honestly never been happier than we are right now. She's so creative, and caring, and funny, and gorgeous. There's no one else I'd rather spend my life with."

You can't help but feel slightly choked up as he gushes, resisting the urge to throw off your hoodie and run up to the stage, crushing him into a bear hug and never letting go.

"WHEN ARE YOU PROPOSING?!" yells a particularly enthusiastic fan, rousing cheers from the rest of the crowd and the cast members on stage.

Tom laughs as he winks at you again.

"When I'm sure she'll say yes."

This, of course, results in almost hysterical screams (affectionate).

You pull your phone from your pocket, tapping on Tom's contact and typing out a message. He's watching you of course, so when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket he pulls it out, cheering like an excited seven year old, "I got a text! From Y/N!"

Y/N 💗: i'd marry you in a heartbeat baby <3

He blows a kiss in your direction, grinning from ear to ear. As he's distracted, gazing at you lovingly, a co-star leans over his shoulder and reads the text.

"Holy shit!" they laugh. "Did Tom Holland just get engaged?"

The screams reach an all-time record and you wince slightly, bringing a hand up to your ringing ear. Tom snatches his phone closer, rolling his eyes.

"Hold your horses!" he laughs. "Let me check."

He balances the microphone in his left hand as he types out a quick message.

tommy 🤠: Did we just get engaged??

Y/N 💗: we will be when you give me that rock hidden at the back of your sock drawer 😳

Tom's soft brown eyes crinkle around the edges as he grins all but leaps up from his chair.

"Is this interview wrapping up soon?" He asks cheekily. "I've got to go get engaged."

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

tysm for reading! comments and reblogs are always super appreciated. i wanna thank you guys for all the love on my blog, you're the best <333

#tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland fic #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst #tom holland smau #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #dad!tom holland #arvin russel #nathan drake #uncharted #fic rec #peter parker

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snailsgoingdowntown · 7 months

Text

Intrigued With You

I ii iii iiii

Yandere! Pinocchio x Fem! Mechanic! Reader

Warnings: Implied toxic familial relationship, unbalanced power dynamics between the reader and Geppetto, very slight mental breakdown, slowly going into a downwards spiral, paranoia, mentioned past violence and stalking. When the full game comes out, this work may be completely different from the actual game. Please tell me if I missed any.

This blog contains/creates/interacts with dark content.

Minors/blank blogs/blogs that don’t reblog any fan art or fan fiction DNI.

Word count:3096k

Over all story summary: Your uncle’s puppet takes a bit too much of an interest in you: in which you fucked up in this chapter.

The public’s opinion of you started to go downhill since then.

It’s been a week, and while most of the citizens won’t throw rocks or stalk you, they still stare – glares that are sharper than a knife, cutting deep into your arteries. You could practically feel the blood oozing out, a puddle forming underneath you as you stood on the stage, heart threating to explode any second now. The crowd just stares, and the puppet next to you cheers. How funny. The damn puppet is offering you more support than the intended audience.

Your foot taps against the wood. Your head throbs and you hold back a scream. You’re a monkey in a circus and they’re throwing peanuts at you.

“Hello everyone. I am here today to introduce a new, and improved, Nanny Puppet, upgraded with new codes and everything.” Your smile is strained, some of the people cheering with others sitting in silence. Seems as though some are genuinely interested and perhaps even excited about the new developments.

Glancing at your uncle who rests behind the curtains to the side, he nods his head. But most of his attention was on the puppet rather than you. “And it even comes with settings you can adjust yourself at home.”

The Nanny cheers again, robotic, and staticky still. So lifeless, its entire being written on a script. But as you look over the crowd on the wooden stage, head light and heart thumping like thunder, you feel the same. From the way you are standing, to the wave of your hands and your words, is all scripted.

A script written by your uncle.

“Now, come,” you gesture to The Nanny, and it listens, turning its back towards the crowd as you stand next to it. There’s buttons and latches, and you undo them all, with a quick ‘sorry,’ uttered into its ‘ear.’ A habit you picked up from the years of working with your uncle.

And with the rise of malfunctions, part of you thinks it’s for the best. Pretend you’re sorry to them, and maybe when everything goes south, they’ll take pity on you. Paranoia doesn’t look good on you, you realize, showing the audience the off switch, the lights in its eyes dimming as it turns off. This wasn’t a new feature.

But the kill switch is.

“As you can see, the power switch is still enabled, even in these new models. So, don’t worry about that, but!” you bring out a control panel from your waistcoat pocket. It’s small enough to fit in your hand, and on the black surface lies a red button, a little glass cap covering it. To prevent any accidental touches. You grip it a little too hard.

“This right here is a kill switch. Now, I’m not going to press it,” your thumb rubs circles over the cap. You can’t find it in you to force another smile, mentally and physically drained from everything. “But the moment you press it, the puppet will immediately shut down… but it won’t turn on again, either.”

There’s some ‘ooo’s’ and ‘awe’s,’ but the silence of the rest is what puts you on edge. They’re most likely the protesters. You wouldn’t be surprised if this stage would set fire any minute now. You shudder at the thought. Another glance at your uncle – he nods, again.

But his eyes are still mostly focused on the puppet. You can’t tell if it is in interest, hope, or disappointment. Just like how you can’t tell if there’s still warmth in his eyes when he looks at you.

“How does it work?”

You blink, off guard. A woman raised her hand, curious eyes drilling into you. You prepared yourself for this, practicing in front of a mirror for hours on end. You got this. You need to. You might fall apart otherwise.

“So, essentially, it – “

“Or, how about you don’t make them at all? The puppets, I mean.” A man speaks up, hat hiding his gaze, but you feel the hatred and frustration radiating off him in waves. You prepared yourself for this too. But reality still sends you reeling back mentally, the thought of rocks being thrown, or stage set on fire. At least he pretends to be respectful, even with his group frowning at you.

Your body trembles the slightest bit.

“Oh – um… I understand where you come from. It’s… it can be difficult to see use in the puppets, but they’re mostly here for when you can’t do something or need extra help…” you can’t tell if you’re lying to him or saying the truth – it’s all part of the script. And truthfully, you agree with him.

You just keep your mouth shut on the matter.

“They’re taking our jobs, you know? Oh wait, you probably don’t – you’re well-off, producing and selling these… things.” The same man shakes his head before pushing others out of his way – he stops just shy of an inch before the stage. “You don’t have to worry about them stealing your job. For now, at least.”

He adjusts his hat, and the contempt in his eyes is so heavy you’re on the verge of drowning. You swallow. You do know, you do, but it’s not like you could do anything. You already tried, you tried, but talking doesn’t work and –

“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough for now.” Your uncle comes out, places a hand on your shoulder. It feels more restricting than comforting. “It’s been a rather long day for everyone, hasn’t it? The sun is going down, and dinner time is drawing near. Same place and time tomorrow, as it was yesterday and today.”

Unlike you, he sounds confident. Gentle, but firm, and yet, you’re starting to grow more wary of him than the protesters. You wish you could hurry and pick a side. Money or no money, everything was starting to seem more futile, meaningless. You want to live under a rock.

Live under a rock and become separated from your job. You tap your foot more aggressively, biting your lip once your back is turned to the crowd. Your hands twitch even with the control in your hands.

He doesn’t leave room for debate, guiding you on the shoulder to walk down the stage and to his little personal workshop. The police – puppets, again – prevent anyone from getting close. You weren’t here yesterday; it was just him. Did he go through the same thing? Is that why he’s so calm, so natural about it?

Or was he always like this? Disconnected from everything that did not concern his work, his dreams? His puppet, his –

“… Uncle,” you fiddle with the control in your hands. “Did anyone accompany you yesterday?” You can’t find it in you to look at him. Can’t even talk properly, no matter how hard you try to accept everything, like you should. It’s expected of you. And maybe it is because of that, that you can’t find yourself willing to do so.

“Mm. Howard did. It was a welcomed surprise.” He chuckles low in his throat, adjusting his hat as you make way home. Guilt immediately starts to boil within, your heart squeezing painfully as your throat closes in on itself. “He’s a fine young man indeed.”

“He is, isn’t? Such a nice young man…” you agree, nodding your head, ignoring the gnawing at your chest. You care about him, dreadfully so, to the point it was horribly painful. Which was why you tried to keep him out of your business.

But he was just so stubborn.

“Hm,” he takes a glance at you; eyes shifting from one side to another. You see it but don’t think much of it. But even so, you can’t ignore the lack of warmth in his gaze. “I heard he’s been visiting you more often now. Are you two perhaps…?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. It won’t ever be like that again.” You laugh, shaking your head. You fidget with the control more. You look down at your hands – scars and light burns decorate them like tattoos. No longer as ‘pretty’ as society would like to describe.

The though brings out a laugh.

“It just won’t work out.”

“How come?” He sounds interested, but not in a caring way – it was in a way that made you feel like a test subject. “You were such a great pair. He would have made an excellent son-in-law for your parents.”

You grit your teeth. “Yeah. He would have. But that’s neither here nor there; it’s in the past. And it will forever remain in the past.” Your face feels hot – anger? Shame? Annoyance and irritation jabbing at every corner of your very being, you try your best to remain stoic about the conversation. Even if you subconsciously know he’s taking a jab at you.

Even though he has no reason to.

You were sure of it now – all of the warmth that was inside your uncle was slowly becoming cold. Was he always this type of man? Cold? Disconnected from everything? But surely, there was still some left for you, right?

A faint chuckle. “I apologize – I shouldn’t have brought up the subject. I wasn’t aware that it was still a touchy subject.” His fingers dig into your shoulder before his grip loosens. He pats it twice before fully letting you go, turning his head to smile at you.

You think it was meant to be gentle. “It’s fine. It was my fault for… assuming you had other intentions by bringing it up.” It’s a lie. It wasn’t fine, and you both know that. But it should be okay, because he’s a man you consider to be your uncle, and of course uncle Geppetto always wants what’s best for you. It would crush you if he didn’t.

“Mm, that’s the spirit. Don’t let anything drag you down.” You’re at his personal workshop now, the wind picking up. It’s getting colder. The leaves are starting to fall more and more, flowers wilting as the days go by. Just like you.

“Now then, I hope you take great care of him. I have other business to attend to, but I wanted to make sure you made it back safe and sound.” Your uncle gives you exactly two pats on the back. Adjusting his glasses, he turns to look at you, smiling.

Smiling, smiling, smiling – it’s all he does. It’s what unnerves you the most. It’s what the citizens hate about him. It’s what unarms your family. It’s what feels the most inhuman about him.

“Yes, of course,” you reply, nodding your head. Your fingers start scrapping against the control gently. Foot tapping, you attempt to smile. “I would never harm… it. It is also my project, you know?”

It wasn’t.

“Mm, yes, of course. Thank you for all your hard work.” And with a tilt of his hat, he’s off – you watch his retreating back, the muscles with every movement. You just realized he could easily overpower you.

Your fingers dig harder into the control until you can feel your fingernails digging into your own flesh. You wonder if he would turn against you if you were to abandon this job field.

Two hours and forty minutes.

That’s how long you have been tampering with the legion arm – your uncle begged you to stop calling it a mechanical arm – greasing it, tightening the screws, making sure that the fingers curl just like a real hand would. And of course it did – it should, especially since nearly all your paychecks and funds go into this puppet and not your own personal life.

Two hours and forty minutes, plus two months and you’re barely about to be done with this damn thing. You finished two other ones before this, but even then, you might have to ‘fix’ them. Make sure that they’re up to your uncle’s very high standards.

“Fuck… why am I even working on this thing? This is the least of our concerns, not to mention – ow, fuck!” In your hurry to get another type of screwdriver, you pushed over a failed ‘heart’ test dummy. It lands directly on your foot, causing you to drop everything else as you hold it with your trembling hands.

They were doing that more often. “Wow, okay, great. Sure, let’s just let everything fall on you. God, I’m going crazy. I might turn into a menace before the protesters and puppets do.” Running a hand through your hair, you pace back in forth, biting your free thumb.

Every time you enter this godforsaken place, your sanity dwindles bit by bit. “Okay, let’s calm down – my foot isn’t bleeding, I think. I should… I should take a break.” Despite your words, you go back to working – picking up the old ‘heart’ and placing it back on the messy table.

Research papers messily stacked at a corner, puppet parts scattered all over, grease stains on the wood. The table wears scratch marks like medals of honor. Pausing for a moment, you walk to the far-right side of the table, picking up the papers and placing them into a clean square bin on the floor. You kick it to some random corner of the workshop.

The urge to rip them to shreds is, in a way, comforting. If those were gone, how could you continue on? They even had blueprints. Nails dig into your palms at the thoughts. Not harsh enough to draw blood, however.

“Hm, I should clean up… but what’s the point? Everything gets scattered again, uncle moves the parts to the most random of places, Howard ends up losing them… so much to do, such little time.”

Ranting to yourself, you stomp to the table again, picking up the new and ‘official’ heart for the puppet. You remember putting it elsewhere. In a drawer. Safe and sound.

And yet, it was on this stupid, stupid table –

“Are they trying to kill me?” you mumble out, on the verge of pulling out strands of your hair. “Not only that, but the fact I could have been harmed today… he knows they already threw stones at me, why make me appear in public again? Why get on the wooden stage that could easily be consumed by fire?”

Without thinking, you stride over to the puppet sitting on the red plush chair. When you’re shy a few inches from it, you take a moment to admire its beauty – the eyes were closed. Long eyelashes that cast shadows onto pale, freckled ‘skin.’ The carob brown hair still looked as soft as ever, with messy curls that remind you of his hair back when he was younger.

Back when everything was normal. Gentler times where warmth wasn’t forced into honeyed words, when you weren’t so scared of being beaten to death. When everything was fine. Happy.

It was missing the left arm – the legion arm. You cast a glance behind you, spotting the arm on the table. That’s the one he wants to put on for now. The most simple, basic one, no complicated functions, no paint, just metal. You decide to leave it.

Turning to face the puppet again, tilting your head, you really take in its appearance; it has an average body type. Maybe a bit more on the lean side, but aside from the pretty face and missing arm, it looked human. It looked normal.

And that’s what scares you.

“…,” against your better judgement, your hand reaches out. Fingertips graze against the cheeks, feeling how cold and smooth it was. It’s flawless compared to your hand. You pause to see if the puppet will move at your touch. When it doesn’t, you bring your hand up, taking a closer step to it. The hair was soft, fluffy. It didn’t feel fake like it should.

It felt real.

“… I shouldn’t be doing this. Hah. I really am going crazy.” The thread that was holding your sanity together was close to snapping. Again, against your better judgement, you act on impulse. Unbuttoning the white button-down, you feel your heart drop at how… human it looks.

But upon closer inspection, there was a thin line, forming a square across the chest. There was a little screw, the opening to inside of the chest. Huffing, you dig into your overcoat pocket, retrieving the specific screwdriver – your uncle makes you carry it like a lifeline. However, you are not sure if he thought it through – what if someone mugged you?

Your hand hesitates as you hold the screwdriver, hovering by the opening. The ‘heart’ was still in your hands. It starts to beat slowly, almost as if coming to life. “… Uncle might kill me if I mess with his favorite puppet…”

Instead of heeding your own words, you open the chest cavity, placing the screwdriver back into your pocket. You’ve seen it before; hollow, wires connecting with each other and to the sides. There’s a small open space where a human heart would be. You look at the one in your hand before nodding your head.

You were acting rebellious, in a way. And it may very well lead into your downfall, either being killed by a puppet going haywire or by your uncle’s red, blinding rage.

You hesitate before gently putting the ‘heart’ into its assigned area. Connecting the wires to it, patting it, watching as it starts to glow, beating steadily. You did not think twice about your actions. After a second, you close it, screwing it shut before walking serval steps away.

Nothing happens.

“Hah… ha-ha, what was I thinking? I went from zero to a hundred within a few minutes… I should take a few days off. Maybe even a week…” chuckling to yourself, you rub your head. You’re getting a migraine. Much be too much caffeine, that coffee would eventually kill you.

Turning around, you walk away from the puppet, heading towards the door to get some fresh air. To force some sanity back into your head before you scream your lungs out and pull out every single strand of your hair out. The longer you stay here, the worse you become.

Creak.

You stop in your tracks, blood turning cold. No. surely not – your eyes widen when you realize how stupid you are. You were dumb enough to connect the wires to the heart. But! When your uncle did that, this didn’t –

You turn your head around so fast you almost snap your neck. Your heart drops.

It opens its eyes, and the first thing it sees is you.

tag list:

@ijustreblogstuff-i-like @chiofany @quzbea @cute-angi

@nealcaffrey2129 @connorsoddsock

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#yandere x reader #lies of p #lies of p x reader #yandere lies of p #yandere lies of p x reader #lies of p pinocchio #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #yandere pinocchio #yandere pinocchio x reader

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