#we need to talk about how andrew needs help too-

[inseparableduo]

"My boyfriend is so cute when he threatens to kick my ass."

#we need to talk about how andrew needs help too- #⚔; His eyes are as cold as steel ( the older brother ) #dash com #i guess??? lol

[harstyle]

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now. 

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered. 

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself.  Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?” 

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum. 

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?” 

“Of course.” 

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.” 

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke,  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

 “Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?!  I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone:  “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight.  “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”  

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts.  Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat.  He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.  

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

--

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles materlist #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x nanny #harry styles ceo #harry styles fanfic rec

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Apologize To You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: Rafe will do anything to get Y/N back in his life.

Masterlist

Everyone has heard about the fight Y/N and Rafe had two days ago. It’s easy for anyone to notice his sullen and grouchy mood. People walk around him on edge, not knowing when he is going to explode. It takes everything in him to not send Andrew to the hospital for what his mere presence has done to Rafe’s relationship. But Rafe knows that wouldn’t get Y/N back. If he wants to get her back, then he has to do the opposite of what his instincts want. It’s easy to get Andrew’s dorm number when people are afraid of you and even easier to get into the dorm hall for the same reason. Rafe makes a mental note to have his dad donate some money to improve security in Y/N’s dorm. His hand goes to knock, but Andrew opens the door, appearing like he is about to leave. Andrew freezes when he sees Rafe in the doorframe.  “What are you doing here?” Andrew questions. Rafe’s fist tightens, “I want to talk to you.” “I have to go to class,” Andrew protests, trying to shove his way passed Rafe. Rafe grabs his arm, “Please, I need to talk to you. Y/N won’t talk to me, so I need to do this.” 

Andrew stops and gives Rafe the chance to speak. No one other than Y/N has heard Rafe say the word please. “I’m sorry for being a jerk to you. I just love Y/N so much and I know you like her too. It was a reflection of my own insecurity and not your or her personality.” Andrew takes in Rafe’s apology, “You know holding on so tight to her will cost you.” “I know and when she forgives me, I’ll work on my jealousy,” Rafe nods. Andrew agrees, “Good, and just so you know. I have a fiancée. What you think is lust for your girlfriend is actually just amazement at her brilliance. I can think those things about her without wanting to get into her pants.” Without letting the conversation continue, Andrew heads toward the elevator for his class.

———

He didn’t want to go to Y/N’s dorm. He knows she will feel boxed in and forced to talk to him. Rafe will get her back, but he doesn’t want her to feel coerced into forgiveness. Y/N has a schedule she likes to stick to; Rafe is the only one who could really get her to step outside of it. It’s Saturday. She’ll be at the cafe, reading her book. He doesn’t want to have this discussion with her in a public place, yet he knows it will help her feel more comfortable. He finds her usual booth in front of the window. She gets up bright and early to get this spot every week. She loves how the light shines through the window onto the table. His butt slides across the leather seat so that he is facing her. She looks up at the man in front of her with an eye roll. “If I wanted to talk to you, I would’ve texted or called you,” she speaks without looking up from her book. Rafe gives her a small smile and looks at the baristas to tell them to send over his usual. He hung out enough here with Y/N for the workers to be able to read him like a book.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need to talk to you. So let me apologize to you, Angel. Please,” he reasons. A small part of her wants to hear him grovel about how sorry he is. Wants his presence with her while she reads. She sighs, “You have three minutes.” Her book closes with a loud thud. “That’s all I need. I’ve already apologized to Andrew for being so rude to him. So, now, it’s your turn. I’m sorry, Angel. For making you believe that I didn’t trust you. For trying to force you to do something. I’m sorry for everything,” Rafe apologizes, reaching his hand out to touch hers. His warmth envelopes her and causes her to wish he was on her side of the booth with his arm around her. She shakes her head, “An apology isn’t enough, Rafe. We both know that this isn’t going to be the last time you get jealous. So what’s going to change?”

“Me. I’m going to learn how to keep my mouth shut when I get jealous. And only speak up if I think you are actually in danger. You have my permission to slap me if I don’t.”

She can’t help but giggle at his small joke at the end, knowing he would hold her to that promise. As much as she hates to admit it, she can’t stay mad at him for that long and she appreciates him taking the steps to say he is sorry without being provoked. “I don’t know if I believe you though. I think you need to grovel a little bit more,” she teases. Her hand finds the corner of the book and she plays with the pages. Rafe would grovel all the way to Sunday if he had to. His sneakers plant on the bench seat, squeaking against the leather, and stands up. It draws the attention of everyone around them. Y/N’s hand slaps over her mouth as she tries to contain her shock. “I was an asshole to my angel and I would like everyone in this coffee shop and her to know that I am very very sorry,” he screams. His hands are spread wide, looking around the room to everyone. His eyes find Y/N again with a grin and he sits back down. “Is that enough grovelling?” She disagrees, wanting to see how far he would go for her. 

It’s his turn to chuckle and he gets on his knees on the side of the booth. His hands cup together in a plea, “I am so so so sorry, Angel. Please, forgive me.” She knows he would stay like that all day if she wanted, but she finally lets him out of his misery with a nod of his head. He shoots up from the ground and scoots himself beside her. He moves so far that she is squished against the window. He pulls her into a hug and his lips begin an assault all over her face. “So you’re my girlfriend again?” he questions with a hopeful tone. Her lips find his cheek, “Technically, I didn’t break up with you. All I said was maybe we shouldn’t be together.” “You are one little trickster, Angel,” Rafe states, bringing his lips back to her skin. “I had to make you realize how serious I was.”

“That you did, Angel. That you did.” 

His forehead rests on her temple and he kisses her cheek, “Thank you for taking me back, Angel. I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, Rafe.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks rafe #obx #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx imagine #obx fanfiction

[mabelstone]

Imagine Being Loved by Me

hozier x f! reader

part three of lullabies <3 | part two | masterlist

cw: 18+, nothing too serious but a bit teeeny bit of smut

word count: 3.2k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure

Three weeks have gone by since I walked in on Joe piledriving another woman in my bed.

Three weeks ago after a beautiful morning of jazz music, pancakes, and instant coffee, Andrew drove me back to my house to pick up my car. I sent him away with an earnest hug, putting on my bravest face as I let myself inside. No shit, there were rose petals on nearly every inch of floor board. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead, tiptoed upstairs into my room. Joe was asleep in bed, and I nearly tasted my breakfast for a second time that morning. Instantly, I felt nauseated, the type that makes you hot and dizzy and want to run away and never come back.

I pushed the feeling back down, determined to grab all my shit and forget this tainted cell of a house I once loved more than anything. Furiously, I began stuffing all of my clothes into a suitcase. Then in another bag, I took everything that belonged to me; sheets, towels, everything down to the last teabag. I was fuelled with rage, huffing and puffing my way around the house, lugging my bags out to my car. Oh, fuck. My keys.

Where are my car keys?

I searched the house like a mad woman, tearing apart the couches, looking in every cupboard and under every piece of furniture. Nothing. I called Andrew, asking if I'd had them at the bar, as if he'd know the answer if I didn't. "Ehm... just your house keys? I tink..."

"I tink you're no help," I mocked, hanging up with the briefest of smiles before I was playing detective again. I searched for nearly an hour before caving in and waking Joe.

I shook his shoulder roughly, standing back with my arms crossed once he finally stirred awake.

"Mmm..." He groaned, and I waited patiently with a scowl for him to realise it was me and not some broad off the street. "Oh, you're finally home."

"Where are my keys?" I deadpanned, fuse shorter than ever. I wasn't in the mood for the slightest conversation with him.

"I missed you so much, babe," he sighed, pulling my stiff body into a hug. I peeled myself away from him, repeating myself.

"Where are my keys, Joe? I left them in the fruit bowl, and now they are gone."

"Let's talk first before we make any hasty decisions," he coaxed, pulling me by my wrists onto the bed beside him. "I can't explain how sorry I am."

"Joe, please."

"I've been up all night crying, my heart is broken," he sighed emphatically, taking my hand into his. Oh, you're the heartbroken one? "I can't imagine a life without you."

"You weren't thinking that way when you were fucking the girl you met at my show."

"You hadn't had sex with me in weeks! I was getting desperate-"

"Just stop," I barked, throwing his hand off of me. "Give me my car keys so I can leave. This doesn't need to be any harder than you've already made it."

After minutes of brutally painful back and forth, he gave me the keys to his safe. I unlocked it to find my keys and an open jewellery box with a sparkling engagement ring. He was sitting on the bed, eyes filled with optimism, and I almost fell for it.

My phone buzzed and I saw a message from Andy.

You haven't crashed your car have you? X

I took my keys and closed the safe, turning on my heels out of the bedroom.

"Um, what the fuck?" Joe called out as he followed close behind me, roughly grabbing at my arm when I was halfway out the front door. "I just proposed to you, and you don't even have the decency to say no?"

"No," I replied, unlocking my car and tossing my bags into the boot.

"What? Babe, don't throw this away," he began to cry, clearly panicked.

"I haven't thrown anything away. You have." I shoved him away by his chest, just about ready to boil over with anger. "You have destroyed any shred of trust I had in you. It's over, Joe."

My tough act began to slip as my voice shook, climbing into my car and slamming the door shut before he could see how hard this really was on me. He screamed something inaudible at me as I drove away, and I watched him sob into his hands from the rearview mirror.

I cried the entire drive to my mums, ignoring the hundreds of calls I missed from him.

Andrew and I continued to spend time together. I spent many nights at my mums place while I tried to look for a house. I didn't have rental history as Joe wouldn't put me on the lease... because I didn't have rental history. "Babe, it'll just make everything harder," was once his excuse.

When my step dad would get unbearable, Andrew would invite me to spend the night. These nights would frequently begin with me sobbing about how broken hearted I was, and end with him and I snuggling on the couch to a movie. Innocent enough, sure. But after weeks of abstinence following six years of frequent sex, I was pent up. So pent up to the point where I would have to excuse myself for some time alone with his retractable shower head. Many of my thoughts of Andrew were so explicit, you'd think they were from the brain of a teenage boy who'd plough through two boxes of tissues a day. This of course left me feeling inexplicably guilty and beyond confused.

Tonight, we drank wine and sang cheesy duets together. We clumsily danced and laughed until we cried. He had the coordination of a newborn giraffe, and though I'd never admit it to him, I wasn't much better. He drunkenly rambled about how in a perfect world, he'd own a cottage in Wicklow and keep bees. I told him how I'd be a florist who sold my Irish friends' honey.

As if routine now, we'd share a blanket on the couch and watch a movie. Last night was Superbad, tonight was Inception. Andrew mindlessly carded his fingers through my hair, and with the comfort that brought me mixed with the wine, I was out to it within minutes.

His beard tickled the inside of my thigh as he continued to bite and suck at the sensitive skin, eyes boring holes into mine with a devilish grin.

"C'mon, Andy," I whined, throwing my head back in frustration. I closed my legs over his head, desperate to feel his mouth on me where I needed it viscerally.

"Patience, darlin'," he tsked at me, spreading my legs wide before him again. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous right now."

"Please, just touch me," I begged, reaching a new peak of arousal that was actually causing me pain. "Anything, just fucking touch me!"

He just chuckled, locking his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer to his face. He continued to place hot, wet opened mouthed kisses along my thighs, his beard scratching over my clit for a split second, and I swore I was on the brink of orgasm immediately. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, impatience taking full control of my autonomy.

He licked a languid stripe up my clit, causing me to let out a guttural moan, arching my back beneath him. He pushed me back down by my hips, one hand easily reaching my breast as he toyed with my nipple.

"Fuck, Andy," I cried, eyes screwing shut as every single nerve ending of mine came alive.

"Look at me," he ordered, the low rumble of his voice vibrating against my core. Without warning, my orgasm rippled through me, each nerve erupting like fireworks as I chanted his name.

I woke up panting, taking a moment to realise I was laying with Andrew on the couch. And processing the fact that I actually just orgasmed in my sleep.

"What's a'matter?" His voice was soft and concerned as he turned his head to face me.

"Weird dream," I laughed breathlessly, heart still pounding in my chest. This happened far too often. I almost wanted to spill my guts and confess everything he made me feel.

"Dreamin' of me, huh?" He grinned down at me, and I felt my cheeks burn.

A moment's silence.

"What?" Please tell me I wasn't moaning his name in my sleep.

"I'm jokin'," he laughed, averting his eyes back to the TV. "Unless you were."

I laughed along too, though in my head I was screaming. 'Unless you were,' what the fuck does that mean?

The credits rolled over the screen and like routine, we got off the couch and went to our separate rooms. Except this time, my heart didn't settle, and I didn't get much sleep.

We went about our days as usual, as if I didn’t fantasise about him every waking moment. I worried that I was catching feelings, and catching them far too fast for someone who'd only just gotten out of a 6 year relationship.

I couldn’t help it. I was infatuated. Infatuated was an understatement. I was completely and utterly enamoured by Andrew. I wanted to be in his presence every moment I could. I often told little white lies so I could spend the night, even though our we remained within a strictly friends only basis.

He was kinder than any man I’d ever met, insisting on having to open every door for me, sending me off to bed with a glass of water each night, and waking me with coffee just how I liked. He was gentle and tentative, always fast at identifying cues when I was upset.

But that’s all we were - just friends.

I began to crave his touch, desperate for any opportunity to feel his skin on mine. He’d often play me a new song he’d written, and I’d watch on with hearts for eyes as his skilled fingers worked his guitar effortlessly.

I saw it in his eyes too, sure he wanted me how I wanted him. I dreamt of climbing into his lap, kissing him until my lips were swollen or until he couldn’t take it anymore and we’d need to take off our clothes to satiate our desires.

But I couldn’t.

When it felt like we were moving in that direction, I’d turn ice cold. Though my heart was begging me to love him how he deserved, my brain knew this was probably just a rebound. And someone with a heart as golden as Andy's didn’t deserve the hell grief I’d cause him.

So I brushed off each pet name as if hearing them didn’t cause my stomach to do acrobats. I treated each night on the couch as if we were simply best friends who enjoyed each others' company. As though there was no other option than spooning on the couch where his scent became hardwired into my brain. I’d act as if I couldn’t feel his hard on pressing into the small of my back most nights. I’d pretend I’d have no idea what he was really doing when he’d have to excuse himself halfway through the movie to ‘make a call.’ It’s just how it worked for us.

And often, I wondered if it was torturing him as much as it was me.

We pulled up at the venue, Andrew of course opening my door for me, offering me his hand as I stepped out onto the kerb. I thanked him and we headed in together, turning a few heads as we did so. Not that this was unusual, he was 6’6” and painfully handsome, after all. He’d also given himself quite the name, rumours of a few producers attending tonight in hopes of setting him a deal.

“Remember me when you’re famous and touring the world without me,” I fake pouted, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

“Well obviously, nobody forgets their muse,” he bumped his shoulder into mine, that cheeky grin stretched across his face. “Besides, I owe you that much for giving me something to write about.”

I nearly choked on my drink, raising my eyebrows at him. “And what songs are written about me, hm?”

“The monster mash?” He kept a straight face, giving me that duh look at the same time.

“Oh, shut up, Andrew.” I laughed, acutely aware of the man who just sat beside me. “I’m being serious! It'd make me happy to know.”

“You’ll know when you hear ‘em, baby,” he grinned, throwing back his glass of champagne. Baby. My heart leapt from me, and in that moment I was grateful that he wouldn’t have noticed the deep blush splattered across my cheeks. He was too busy claiming another round of free drinks for us.

“Please tell me that’s your brother or something,” the man sat beside me spoke up, chocolate brown eyes so endearing, thick American accent on his lips.

"I sure hope not," I joked. His face fell, and I realise how that could've been misconstrued. "No- he's not my boyfriend either. We just sing together."

He put his hands together in prayer, looking up to the roof, mouthing, 'thank you, God.' I laughed at him, shaking my head. He had dark brown curls similar to Andy's, his were just more tame and much shorter. Full lips that twisted into a dopey smile, and if I weren't so confused with my emotions, I'd have jumped into a cab and gone home with him without a second thought. "I'm Will," he introduced himself, shaking my hand.

"Y/N," I blushed when he kissed my knuckles, wondering where the hell Andy had run off to. "Where are you from?" I attempted to avert the conversation, regaining ownership of my hand.

"Colorado," he smiled, signalling to the bartender that he wanted to order another round. "And you're a singer?"

"Uh... well I sing, yes," I giggled, the three prior glasses of bubbles gone to my head. "I wouldn't label myself a singer as such."

"Well aren't you just the cutest thing," he grinned, slipping his hand onto my thigh.

"I uh," I stammered, struggling to find the words. "That's very kind," my eyes searched the room for Andy. He towered over mostly everybody wherever we were, standing out like a sore thumb. But for some reason, he was nowhere to be found right when I needed him.

"I'm only in town for the night," he leaned in close to me, his breath hot in my ear, and his hand only getting warmer on my thigh. "Once you're done your little performance, why don't you come back to my hotel and give me an encore?"

Like the Gods had intervened, a familiar calloused hand was grabbing my arm. "C'mon, we gotta go backstage." I looked up to Andy, his expression rigid, bordering on disgust and anger.

"Oh, okay," I nodded, hopping up from my stool, Will's hand quickly retracted. "Uh, see you," I smiled awkwardly, Andrew's grip still around my arm.

"Here's your drink," he let me go, handing my glass to me.

"You saved me, Andy," I laughed, glancing back at the man who'd already moved onto his next victim. "Total wanker."

"Mhm," he hummed, not even looking at me as we made our way backstage.

"Everything alright?" I prodded, his expression unchanging. He didn't reply, instead opened the door to the green room for me. We weren't at our usual bar tonight. We'd been invited to perform at a decently size theatre that just so happened to be full of producers, offering free drinks for the performers. Maybe not the best combination.

The green room was alive with seven or so other musicians, all mingling amongst each other as they awaited their turns. There was a table lined with finger food, and a minibar with premixed drinks. Andrew had made a beeline straight for the snacks table. Typical.

"Um, hello?" I whisper shouted to him, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. "Is there a reason you're ignoring me? Is it because of that bloke? Because I-"

"Yes," was all he replied, taking his food to one of the couches with him.

"Okay," I was surprised with how forward he was, sitting down beside him, honestly perplexed by his rigidity. "...Why?"

"I didn't like the way he was talking to you," he shrugged, still avoiding my eye contact. "He was disrespectful."

"So... why are you icing me out, exactly?"

"I will say the wrong things, better to say nothin'."

This was unlike any way I'd seen him act before. Cold, annoyed... jealous? Surely not.

"Well, I'm sorry I- or he made you feel this way."

"Andrew Hozier-Byrne? You're on in two minutes," one of the stage hands announced, nursing his clipboard on his hip like a baby. "And we're still going ahead with the song change?"

Andy nodded, having a quick drink of water and tossing his rubbish away.

"Song change?" I questioned, following behind him. I made sure to watch every performance of his, even if it meant being amongst the audience when I wasn't also performing.

"Oh, yeah. When I went to get you a drink, I quickly changed my song. No biggie," he shrugged, tying his hair back into a bun, slipping his cap over the top. Jesus Christ, he looked fucking edible.

"What's the song?" I pressed further, still adamant despite the backstage timer ticking '30 seconds.'

"Haven't named it," he shrugged his guitar strap over his shoulders, giving me a wry smile. "It's about you, though."

I blushed deep, unable to form words. There was no space for talking anyway; he headed out onto the stage, leaving me dumbfounded as I watched on.

He awkwardly introduced himself, as he did each night.

And then followed my undoing.

I'd be the voice who urged Orpheus when her body was found.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice.

Imagine being loved by me.

Suddenly, there was not nearly enough air behind this curtain as I watched on, awestruck.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do.

So I try to talk refined in fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you.

I'd be the last shred of truth lost in the myth of true love.

I'd be the sweet feeling of release mankind now dreams of.

That's found in the last witness before the wave hits, marvelling at God.

Before he feels alone one time and marries the sea.

Imagine being loved by me.

Fuck.

My knees felt weak, sure my ears were deceiving me. Imagine being loved by me. Oh, but I do.

Sure enough, producers from many labels were flagging him down from the minute his set finished, flooding the backstage where I was waiting for him.

I ended up having to go on straight after Andrew, thankfully. I couldn't think of any words to say, and the ones I could think of were highly inappropriate. Not that he would mind, clearly.

I hung around after my set, making eye contact with Andy here and there, waving him off when he looked like he might leave the conversations for me. I was happy for him. Ecstatic. And the craving for his touch only multiplied tenfold with his subtle admission that he felt the same.

tricked ya!! i am physically incapable of writing slow burn lol i hope u enjoy what i have for u in the next chapter xx it'll be very juicy (and hopefully longer)

i've also added a taglist as per a request, lmk if you wanna be added xo

#hozier #hozier smut #andrew hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier fanfiction

[andysorbit]

I read your Jisung sfw and nsfw post…

Jisung is totally the type of guy who has dirty thoughts about you but he would never initiate anything sexual because he’s too scared of rushing you or making you uncomfortable, but if you were to ask him if he’d feel uncomfortable with the idea of y’all being intimate he’d get shy and struggle to admit he thinks about it way too often 🫢

sooooo.... I had started this because well... I'm always soft for that pinhead and this may be a bit redundant and some of it might not even mesh with what was in the other one but whatever we love our big fluffy boi

just as before this is fluff and light?? smut, fem!reader

if you wanna read the one mentioned, go here

MINORS, FUCK OFF

Boyfriend!Jisung Who...

Buys you flowers and slaps you with them because he's annoying

comes home with food all the time

and you complain but you love it because this man makes sure you're always fed

"if your tummy is always full, you can't run from me"

likes to hide your things because he wants you to ask him for help

"Andrew, I can't find my sewing kit"

"did you just call me Andrew?"

"Yes I did, Anderson..."

"d'you need help finding that sewing kit or not?"

he's a space boy so he's always talking about space and if he's drunk he's in the zone

"so aliens aren't stupid... if they're capable of creating and operating technology so advanced that they can travel all over the universe, then why do they keep crashing in cornfields? shit- why aren't they crashing anywhere else? I believe in them but I feel like mankind wants to be smarter and better than everything else so badly that they'll insult the intelligence of just about anything."

"aw babe you've really put a lot of thought into that"

"I had to... I needed to make sure it made sense before I mentioned it to you. I didn't want you to think I was crazy and dump me"

"Sungie why would I dump you?"

"for thinking I'm crazy.... I just said that but that's not important right now- you gotta keep up- this is serious, okay?"

calls your mom just because he can

"your mom said she hasn't spoken to you in a few days, why haven't you called her?"

"Maybe of you weren't always on the phone with her, she'd answer when I call her dude"

"Well she invited me out for brunch so maybe you can come along too"

"maybe?"

"y/n if you're jealous then just say so"

reads to you because he knows his voice is one of your favorite things about him

shares his little rants, rambles, and questions with you

"Okay but instead of sending Jesus to the cross, why didn't everyone get one chance to file for like... spiritual bankruptcy and then after that for every sin you commit then you have to do something that bothers you like walk around for a week with wet socks or with a piece of steak stuck in your molars?"

"baby, are you okay?'"

"no, I need answers."

is so respectful because he doesn't want you thinking he likes the sex more than he likes you

moans in your ear when you're close because he knows you'll cum harder if he's moaning and talking you through it

he can barely form a sentence if he looks at you for too long but he can look you in your eyes and talk dirty to you while he's throttling you

he loves the way his hands look around your neck

he has a big dick

like it's fucking huge and your favorite thing is when he's telling you that you take it just like a good girl should

he's cutie pooks in the streets and Mr. Park in the sheets

no seriously one day you called him Mr. Park and he practically took you right there

he loves watching the way you take his cock so he always slides into you so slowly that it's almost torture

had you convinced that he had the equipment but didn't lnow how to use it and after your first time together he was smug af

"are you okay?"

"Jisung... don't you... I thought..."

"what? you thought you were gonna have to fake it?"

he's nasty but he's classy about it

#neoculturecollectives #andy's mail #nct #nct smut #kpop smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #nct dream hard thoughts #andyception #ANDY PARK #park jisung #park jisung smut #nct x black!reader

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

"He is half of my soul, as the poets say"

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader sees something on a job which got her realising life is too short

Warnings: angst, trauma, description of dead, english is not my native language

Word Count: 4.3k

The cold was slowly creeping up on you, and the sight before you could only mean one thing, you were dreaming, dreaming a nightmare.

The day started like every other, you all slept till noon and then George went to the Archive to collect information for your new case while Lucy, Lockwood and you prepared everything else.

The sun was already slowly setting and was turning everything around you into a dim light when you all met up with George. “Around sixty years ago, the house was owned by a young couple, Andrew and Mary Hoffman. They were brutally murdered by robbers.” George told the team as you entered said house.

The new owners had no connection to the killed couple, they weren’t even sure if it was one or two ghosts. They only reported that the living room and the second bedroom upstairs were colder than the rest of the house; two weeks ago at night, the rooms became so cold that the windows were freezing and they could see their own breath. This, plus a dreadful feeling, had brought the owners to Lockwood & Co. to get rid of their ghost problem.

You joined Lockwood & Co. half a year ago. Since then, your team had become your best friends, and you trusted them with your life. Of course, with Lockwood & Co. often times things took a turn that really nobody expected, but they had your back and you had theirs, so you knew that it didn’t matter what the night had in store, Lockwood & Co. would ace it.

With this in mind, you followed your team inside the kitchen. Like every good team, you knew your ins and outs, so you didn’t need to talk to know that it was your job to make tea while Lockwood searched for biscuits. You had like fifteen minutes before the darkness would settle upon East London, which was also enough time for a cup of tea and one or maybe two biscuits.

While you were busy preparing each cup of tea the way each member of Lockwood& Co. liked it, Lockwood found what he was looking for. And when he happily declared that the new owners had the good kind of biscuit, you couldn’t help but smile. Lockwood’s happiness always got you beaming, when he was happy, you were happy, probably because you were such good friends. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you were lying at night in your bed and couldn’t sleep because you were too busy thinking about how the laugh of your boss sounded or how his skin felt on yours when you accidentally touched at the kitchen table when you both were reaching for the same item. Maybe if you would stop for a moment and think about it, you would realise that you were head over heels in love with your boss and landlord, but for you denial was not just a river in Egypt.

“The police suspected Mary was killed first, they found her body in the living room. Andrew was found upstairs in the open door of the bedroom. They assumed, he heard the gunshot which killed Mary and wanted to see what happened”, George shared his grim research, and you pushed his cup over the counter to him. As thanks, he gave you a quick nod.

“So, we should split up”, Lockwood appeared next to you and cool like always he leaned against the kitchen counter. This was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It felt like every minute, it would just jump out of your ribcage.

“George and I, and you and Y/N, like always?”, asked Lucy sipping her tea.

Lucy was the best listener you ever met; Lockwood’s talent was great sight. You were like George; you got a bit of everything. You could see ghost, but no death-glow. You could hear the voices of visitors, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. Only your touch was better than average and saved you from the fate of a night watch kid. Sometimes when you touch something ghost infected, you could see, hear, and feel important moments of the ghost’s life. For you, these visions often felt like minutes, but it was only a few seconds.

But in Lockwood’s humble opinion, a few second were enough for you to get ghost-touched. For someone so reckless, he was terribly worried about your safety. Therefore, you got into more than one argument about this issue. If Lockwood had his way, you would sit back home, while your team was fighting ghost without you. But that was no life you wanted to live, and you made this clear. If Lockwood would ever force you to stay back at Portland Row, you would leave Lockwood and Co. This was the argument, which always won you the fight. When he couldn’t keep you safe by leaving you back home, Lockwood insisted, that on missions you always stayed by his side. He was the best swordsman of you four, so he was the best fit to protect you and himself from getting ghost-touched. You didn’t mind. It was nice to work close with Lockwood, when he wasn’t plunging himself head first into danger. But Lucy once claimed, with knowing smirk in her face, that he was doing it less, since you joined the agency.   

It was no surprise to everyone, that he agreed with Lucy, and before you knew it, you were standing in the living room. One look at your watch confirmed what you already felt, every minute the last light of the sun would disappear, and the night would begin. Unconsciously wrapping your jacket tighter around your frame, your fingers fiddled with your belt, trying to remove the thermometer.

You weren’t nervous-no- you weren’t more nervous than on any other mission. Of course, you didn’t know which kind of ghost you would encounter this night, but you were positive that you could handle it. To fail in front of Lockwood wasn’t an option.

Finally freeing the thermometer from your belt, you began to start tracking the temperature. This was your job, while Lockwood was kneeing in the middle of the room, probably examining the death-glow.

The closer you got to the fireplace, where the remains of a long-forgotten fire lay, the colder it became. When you came to a stop in front of the fireplace, your hair stood up, and you couldn’t help but tremble. Closing your eyes, you put your hand on the old stones of the fireplace, expecting them to be cold, but they were nicely warm.

“How odd”, you muttered, before you were hit by a vision.

The first you picked up was the warm, it was a stark contrast to the cold, you were feeling just seconds ago. You were still standing in the same spot in the same room, but beside the fireplace everything was different. The furniture and décor were an older style, bright sunlight shone through the window, and everything screamed home.

In the middle of the room, a couple were slow dancing to “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” from The Shirelles, they were laughing and the happiness they were emitting was luring you in. You couldn’t help but also smile, and for a moment you forget that this wasn’t real. As if you were under a spell, you watched the couple in awe and as he spun her around, you saw his face for the first time.

You inhaled sharp. This face in front of you, you would recognize everywhere. The man looked exactly like how you imagine Lockwood would look in maybe four or five years. He was dressed in the fashion of the 60s, and his eyes shined full of love. You could watch him like this forever.

Narrowing your eyes, you tried to get a better look at his dance partner. She had light brown hair and wore a pretty yellow dress. The pair did another turn, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. The woman in Lockwood’s arm were you. She was exactly looking like you. Maybe a few years older and a lot happier.

Lockwood was gazing at her like she was his world, and you would have given everything that your Lockwood would looking at you like he was looking at her. You would kill for it. As this thought plopped up in your head, the world around you shifted.

In one moment, everything around you were bright and warm in the next moment you stood in the dark lifeless living room and the cold rushed over you, like somebody emptied a bucket full of ice water over your head.

A bad taste in your mouth and a creeping feeling of dread was all the warning you got, but it was also all the warning you needed. Pulling out your rapier, you spun around to come face to face with the ghost of Mary Hoffmann. But what you saw let you freeze like a stone statue. You weren’t ghost-locked, you just couldn’t believe it. It was like looking into a mirror, just that the own reflection was dead.

Shortly the thought, that the ghost was playing with you, crossed your mind, but that was not how your visions worked. Mary looked exactly like she had in the vision; she was your Doppelgänger.

Tearing your eyes from the sight, you never wanted to see in your life, you looked to Lockwood. Normally Lockwood tried to look cool, calm, collected, but right now his eyes darted between you and the ghost, not believing what he saw.

Nobody of you were moving, the ghost looked at you and when your eyes locked you couldn’t even lift a finger. You could feel her sadness and her grieve. But under all there was anger, an anger you could understand all too well. Maybe you didn’t know how it felt to lose your own life, but you already felt the grieve and anger after you lost a loved one.

“Darling, please step back slowly”, Lockwood tried to sound calm, but you could see right through it. But his voice had always the same effect on you, it brought you back.

Removing your gaze from the ghost in front of you, your eyes met Lockwood’s. That was enough to stop the growing panic. He was here with you, nothing too bad would happen.

Clutching your rapier like your life depended on it, you followed Lockwood’s order. Slowly you took a step back, then another till your back hit the wooden shelf of the fireplace. All the time you watched the ghost cautious, waiting for it to attack you. But Mary only followed curious your movement until you touched the wood.

It was like you flipped a switch. In one moment, she was peaceful, in the next she wasn’t any more. With a high wail she lunged for you, and before you could react Lockwood was there, his rapier slicing through her. Ectoplasm splattered around, and a few drops hit your boots. And the ghost? She vanished but both of you were agents and knew that it was only a matter of time, that she would reappear. Time you could use to search for the source.

“Are you OK?”, Lockwood sounded concerned.

Like the liar you were, you sent him a small smile, “Sure.”

Of course, you weren’t OK, not after seeing this. But you were too professional, to let it affect your work. Therefore, you took a deep breath and tried to slow your thoughts. First came the work and when you survived the night, you could handle your feelings.

You weren’t new to this field, your experience told you, that it wasn’t a coincidence that Mary acted up as you touched the wood. Her source had to be close. A short look at Lockwood confirmed your suspicion.

“We should lay out the chains”, Lockwood suggested, and you nodded. Both of you knew, that there was no guarantee what would happen, if you touched the source and to find it you had to touch it. Also, there was the possibility, that the ghost was out to get you. Maybe it also realized that you both were a lookalike and now wanted to kill you for it.

“I grab them and Darling, remember no matter what happens, I have your back.”

While Lockwood laid out the chains, he insisted on doing it, you stood with raised rapier next to him, ready to fight off the ghost, if it would appear. But you both were lucky; Mary didn’t show up.

Now you stood inside the iron chains, slowly reaching out to touch the wood a second time. You could feel it, you were so close. Closing your eyes for better concentrating, you carefully let your hands wander over the shelf. When you touched to deep cuts in the wood, which awfully resembled the letters A and M, you knew, that you found it. But before you could inform Lockwood, another vision came crashing over you like a wave and pulled you under.

You were in the same room as in the last vision. But now it was night, and you were looking down the barrel of a gun. Her angst, your angst, was all consuming. Your whole body was shacking.

“Please”, her and at the same time also your voice, was not more than a whisper.

That was all you needed to realize, that in this vision you weren’t just watching her, you were her. And now you would learn how it felt like to die. A small tear ran down your cheek, and you didn’t know if it was Mary or you, who was crying.

Before you could beg again, the robber pulled the trigger. The pain you felt as the bullet priced your flesh was worse than anything you had experienced before. Falling to the floor, you wanted to scream, but the only sound which left your mouth was a quit whimper.

You could feel the warm blood rushing out of your body and starting to form a puddle beneath you. You were too young to die. You had so much you wanted to do, you had so many people you had so say goodbye to. You just couldn’t leave George, Lucy and him- oh you would miss him so much.

With the last of your strength, you tried pressing down on your wound. Burning hot pain shot through your body. But still your warm blood was running through your finger, and you were running out of time. Any breath could be your last one. Everything was cold and you were so tired. You would love nothing more, than to just close your eyes, so you did. Your lungs took their last breath, and then you died.

Just to suddenly standing next to Marys/ your dead body. There was only one thing worse than seeing your own ghost, and that was seeing your own lifeless body. By the sight in front of you, your blood was running cold, and you felt like throwing up.

“Darling, everything alright? What was this noise?”, you heard Lockwood’s voice from above. The robber exchanged looks before they followed his voice upstairs.

Knowing what was to come, your whole body went stiff.

No-no-no-no, that could not happen. You couldn’t let him die. Panicking, you searched for something, that could be used as a weapon, but when you tried to reach for the poker, your hand just went through. In this vision, you were the ghost, you couldn’t change anything.

You jumped when two shots rang out, another tear was running down your cheek. Damn, you knew that you didn’t want to see it, but you couldn’t help it.

Rushing up the stairs, there he was lying. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling; all sparks long gone from them. Your legs gave up under you and with a loud wail you felt to the floor. You were wrong earlier; the worst sight of your life was Lockwood’s dead body here in front of you. And you would never fully recover from it.

You were still crying ugly when you came back. When you said yes to this job, you really didn’t expect to get so traumatised. Your heart was beating so fast like you just ran a marathon. Trembling all over, you allowed yourself a quick look over your shoulder.

There he stood, with his back to you, he was facing the room. His rapier was resting in his hands, while he tried to look less tense than he was feeling. Relief flooded through you at the sight of him. It hasn’t been real, he was alive. You suppressed a loud sob and forced yourself to appear calm on the outside, even if there was a storm raging inside.

“I found the source, do you have a crowbar?”, hearing the sound of your voice, Lockwood turned around, which was a bad mistake.

Of course your luck just ran out and Mary decided, that this was the best moment to reappear again. Would it be a typical mission for Lockwood and Co. if something like this wouldn’t happen? You guessed not.

Seeing her appear right behind Lockwood, her arm outstretched, gave you a heart attack.       

They say when something terrible happens, you witness it in slow motion. But that wasn’t true for you. It always happened so fast.

“Watch out”, you yelled, while your hands worked hastily to pull out a salt bombe out of your jacket pocket. While Lockwood spun around and only escaped the ghost-touched by jumping back, you threw the bomb. It hit Mary right in the chest, and with a high-pitched wail she backed off.

“I will fend her off”, without warning, Lockwood threw with his free hand his crowbar to you. Luckily for you, you caught it.

To be completely honest, this was a shitty job. You hated it with all your bones. If it were up to you, this night couldn’t end fast enough.

So you took Lockwood’s crowbar and bought it down onto the shelf with all your anger bundled and a roar of frustration. Two hits were enough to cause the part of the wood with the initials to splinter.

Behind you, you heard Lockwood taunting the ghost to distract her from you. Because one thing for sure, Mary hated what you were doing to her source.

There was no reason for you to drag this out any longer. Therefore, you took your silver net and threw it over the little piece of wood, you broke off. In an instance, the chaos stopped.  

“Are you alri-”, Lockwood never got to finish his sentence, he got too distracted from the loud pounding footsteps, which were running down the stairs.

The next moment, Lucy appeared in the doorway.

“Thank god, you are alive”, with a relived sigh, she threw her arms around Lockwood. Confused, his eyebrows raised.

Would it be any other day, you might have become jealous at the sight in front of you- you could never hug Lockwood light this- but this job had been hell. You only felt tired, so tired.

“We were fighting against a ghost, which looked exactly like you”, Lucy added when she realised how confused Lockwood looked. You already put two and two together, thanks to your visions.

“And suddenly he just vanished, did you found both sources by any chance?”, George chimed in as he entered the room.

“Quite possible”, picking up the silver net, you were careful not expose the source.

“Here”, without further ado, you handed the net into George’s unexpected hand. You wanted nothing more to do with it.

Not waiting for his response, you pushed past him and rushed out of the house. You knew that it wasn’t your smartest move to just run out of a house in the middle of the night. But you still had your rapier and you needed fresh air.

Trembling all over, you took a deep breath. What the hell had been this shit show? And why had they looked exactly like Lockwood and you? You wanted to cry, but you hadn’t any tears left. Wiping your cheeks to remove the salty remains, you crumbled a little. You could still feel the warm blood on your hands, you could still see Lockwood lying dead in front of you.

But before you could collapse, you heard steps behind you. Turning your head, you saw Lockwood hurrying to you. Without saying anything, he pulled you in his warm embrace, and you melted under his touch. Laying your head against his chest, your hands griped his coat, like you were afraid he would leave you. You could hear his hearth racing, and you were sure, that your heart was beating even faster.

Like this, you stayed for what felt like forever. It seemed like both of you wanted to make sure, that what happened inside the house wasn’t more than a bad dream. As if you stayed long enough like this, you could undo what you had seen insight.

After a moment Lockwood broke the silence, “For a second I thought you were her and that you-”, right in the middle he stopped, and you looked up into his pained face.

This was the moment, that you realised, how close you were. You would just have to stand on your tiptoes and your lips would be brushing his. But you didn’t dare. What if he didn’t like you as much as you like him? Then you try to kiss him, ruining everything.

“I never felt such relief in my life when I saw you standing there”, pausing, Lockwood also seemed to realise in which position you both were. Blushing, he took a step back, and you wanted to scream.

“Darling, will you be OK after tonight?” Certainly not. Maybe you put a stop to the haunting, but for sure her memories will haunt you.           

To 85.66% you were sure, that after this night Lockwood told the rest of the team, that you both had fought against your lookalikes. You could see it in the pitiful glances they gave you.

The first days after the job, you mainly spend in your room. At the latest, when you didn’t protest when Lockwood suggested that you stay home for the next job, everyone knew that something was wrong with you.

Every night in your dreams, you and Lockwood died again and again. Every night you woke up heavily panting, and your bed was soaked with sweat. Rational, you knew that neither you nor Lockwood had died, but it had felt so real.

Even when the light was shining through your window, you felt the adrenalin pumping through your veins, ready to fight or flight. The worst part was, that you knew your fear wasn’t so wrong. As an agent, every job could be your last. A little slip up and you could be dead.

To distract yourself, you tried to think of reasons why Mary and Andrew Hoffman looked exactly like you and Lockwood.

One time you read, that every person had seven doppelgängers, but the probability that your lookalike married Lockwood’s was so low. There must be another explanation, you just knew it.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the knock on your door. Only when Lockwood entered your room, you got brought back.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”, you asked the first thing, that came into your mind, before he could say anything.

Taken by surprise, he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of your room.

“I-I- I mean”, he stuttered, and slowly a blush began creeping up his face. From the eloquent Lockwood you often watched was no sign to see.

“Are you thinking about them?”, he asked instead of answering your question. He didn’t even have to say their names for you to know who he was talking about.

“Yes, they got me thinking. How odd it is that both were our lookalikes?”

“And they married each other.” Lockwood’s brown eyes met yours and your heart stopped.

“Yes, and they married each other”, you repeated breathless, while Lockwood came closer.

“May I?”, before you knew it, he was sitting next to you on the bed. Only now did you realize he had swapped his fine suit for a simple grey jumper. If it was even possible, your heart started to beat even faster. Discreetly, you tried to wipe off your sweaty hands on your leggings.

Hoping to gain control over your own body again, you took a deep breath. “You didn’t answer my first question, do you believe in reincarnation?”

Nervously, you bit on your lips, and Lockwood’s eyes followed the movement before his eyes lingered.

While fidgeting with his hands, Lockwood cleared his throat. Never before you saw him so nervous.

“I would like to believe that my soul will always find yours, no matter when and where we are.”

He was looking anywhere but at you. Which was fine, totally fine, because you looked like an idiot.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Or was it just wishful thinking?

The last job has showed you, that the life could be awfully short, you could die any time. Sometime love was worth taking a risk on and if you knew one thing it was, that you loved the reckless idiot in front of you.

Gripping his jumper, you brought his lips down to yours. First, he wasn’t kissing back, and you were scared, that you did a big mistake. But then he returned the kiss, and you felt like flying.

Far too quickly you separated and breathless you gazed into each other eyes.

“I would also like to believe that my soul will always find yours.”    

#anthony lockwood #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 31

PREVIOUS

Eventually, his grandma convinced him that he did not have to send a horse head to Ichirou Moriyama with his regrets. “He said if you’re ever looking for work my little Rotisserie, it’s going to be okay.” She had promised.

FF chooses to believe his grandma.

He’s found a lot of his mental stability is built up on just believing what his grandma has told him to soothe him, it helps that she’s usually right.

He takes some deep breathes, shoves down his embarrassment that he was seconds away from crying in front of Andrew, Captain Neil, and Nicky if Nicky hadn’t dragged the other two out. He really needed to thank Nicky.

“I can finish eating the soup Grandma, it’s really good. What was Kevin trying to do to it?” He asks taking the container his grandma brought the soup in and remembering what Nicky had said as he had gotten Captain Neil and Andrew out of the room.

“That boy is very handsome, very smart, and somehow does not have a bit of common sense.” His Grandma says with a fond laugh, “He wanted to put protein powder into your soup to help you heal faster.” She says.

FF had seen Kevin put protein powder in weirder things. What would be so bad about that?

“It was Vanilla flavored Protein powder my little Chicken.” She says reading the question off of his face and in his silence.

“Chicken and waffles exists as a flavor combination” he says not seeing what would have been so bad about it.

“Sweetie, you can’t have anything other than clear liquids right now. The doctor said so.” She says with a sigh.

He nods, that makes sense.

His grandma sighs and looks upwards.

“We need to talk to the Doctors about when you can get out of here. I think being back in a hospital is too hard on you.” She reaches up and brushes back his hair thumb starting at his eyebrow and tracing back to his ear. FF knows it’s not very noticeable otherwise his step brothers would have used the scar to torment him like how they brought up his slightly chipped ear. Still, he keeps his bangs long just so he never has to see the scar in the mirror, knowing his eyes will always search it out.

“It’s hard to sleep when it’s quiet.” He admits.

“I know.” She says. “Are you okay for people to come back in? I’ll take Nicky to act as my translator to go speak with the hospital or I can go with that nice coach of yours since he already knows I speak English.” She offers.

“Can…can you take Coach Wymack?” He asks because he really feels like he needs Nicky if his Gran is going off.

“Of course my little Chicken.” She rises up, takes the empty soup container from his hands, and kisses his forehead before she smoothes his bangs back down. “If you want I can just have Nicky come in and the rest can stay out.” She offers.

“No, just…maybe ask Nicky to come in first?” FF asks, he doesn’t want to be rude. They’re here to see him, it was just a lot and he wants to thank Nicky for giving him the time he needed to calm back down.

“Of course, such a sweet young man. His fiancé is lucky!” She says with a smile.

“Erik is a very lucky guy.” FF agrees managing to return the smile his grandma offered him.

“Ok, I’ll send Nicky in and take your Coach to go see about getting you discharged.” She says leaving out the door.

“Thank you.” He says into the now empty room before leaning against the pillows of his bed and looking around his room again.

His eyes narrow on the flowers Nicky had brought.

Pink Tulips, Yellow Sunflowers all in a Blue vase.

One does not become maintain a close friendship with Nicky Hemmick without hearing extensively about how he feels about newly adopted Pride Flags.

“Why did Nicky get me Pan Pride colors?” He asks if only to fill the silence.

***

Nicky couldn’t help but pace a bit. Somehow waiting for FF to calm down enough that he could take visitors again was a lot worse than waiting for him to wake up from being stabbed. He shouldn’t have let Andrew or Neil start in on his friend, he knows the two of them are scared but Nicky is the only one who can actually understand how scared FF would be.

His sweet little Rotisserie Chicken (He’s claiming it as his own, he’s in love, Aras is a laugh riot) would absolutely be spiraling in anxiety. The others are talking amongst themselves but Nicky isn’t feeling particularly chatty at the moment.

There’s a sound and Nicky’s head snaps up to see Aras coming out of FF’s hospital room. Her face giving away some of her exhaustion but she brightens the moment she sees him. It’s a nice thing, having someone her age being so happy to see him. “He wants to see you. I want to speak with Coach Wymack so he can help me work on getting our Chicken discharged, can you translate for me?” She asks in Polish slowly for his benefit.

Nicky stops.

“He wants to see me?” He asks, “Just me?” He adds wanting to make sure he was understanding her.

She nods, “He will let the others in after, but right now? You’re the only friendly face he wants to see.” She says, “Who could blame him when it’s such a handsome one!”  She reaches up and pats his cheek affectionately.

Nicky can’t help the smile that fills his face.

He almost wants to turn around and be smug about it with everyone. The last two additions to their family were far closer with Andrew and Aaron, but FF was his.

A friend that would pick Nicky over his cousins.

“Of course, I’ll help you talk to Wymack.” He says and offers his elbow to Aras who laughs and calls him a gentleman as the two of them walk over to where the rest of the Monsters and Wymack were waiting.

“Is Smiths ready for company again?” Aaron asks rising to his feet.

“He only wants to see me right now.” Okay yes, Nicky is going to gloat a little. He feels pretty good when both Neil and Andrew’s faces tighten just a smidge. “Coach, Aras wants you to come with her to see about getting Smithy discharged?” He says before a thought occurs to him, “Wait, won’t I need to be there to explain it to Aras?” He asks with a frown.

Wymack coughs.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll get the information and you or Smith can explain it to Aras afterwards if need be.” Wymack waves away Nicky’s concern. “Go sit with the kid.” Wymack says.

Nicky looks at Aras, “Will you be okay without me to translate?” He says not wanting to make the decision without her.

“We’ll make do.” She promises with a smile, “Look after our little Rotisserie Chicken, will you?” She asks.

Nicky nods before looking to Wymack, “At least offer the lady your elbow Wymack! You’re escorting a LADY!” He exclaims and Wymack rolls his eyes but tellingly does offer his elbow for Aras to take.

“A gentleman coach!” Aras laughs.

“I’ll go with them, I want to hear what might need to be done for Smiths.” Kevin says rising up from the plastic chair he’d been sat in. “Aaron do you want to come too?” He asks.

“I think I’ve suffered enough today.” Aaron says and Nicky wonders what the car ride over was like for his cousin to sound that tired.

Kevin tilts his head obviously not understanding what Aaron was talking about but before Aaron could open his mouth and turn it into an argument Nicky intervened, “Kevin, be a gentleman and offer Aras your elbow.” Nicky insists.

Kevin spluttered his cheeks going a little red.

“Coach already is escorting her!” He squawks.

“Do you think one man is enough for a woman of Aras’ caliber?” He asks seriously.

Kevin looks embarrassed but, sure enough, offers his elbow to Aras as well.

She takes it, “Two handsome gentlemen. What a treat. Now this one just needs to keep his mouth closed and he’d be perfect.” She looks up at Kevin with a smile.

Kevin, as he has since Aras arrived, just smiles back at Aras’ warm tone looking very much like a pleased golden retriever.

Nicky turns to head towards the door, “He doesn’t want to see us?” Neil asks and Nicky stops.

Neil looks uncomfortable and Andrew has the line on his forehead that he’s experiencing an emotion he isn’t comfortable with.

Nicky is a man with grace.

“I think he might just want to make sure this isn’t going to be Interrogation 2: Electric Boogaloo. I’ll promise that NO ONE,” he points a finger at each of the younger men, “is going to do that. Right?” He asks.

Aaron nods, Andrew gives off an aura of agreeing, and Neil opens his mouth, “We won’t.” He promises.

Nicky nods, “I’ll come get you guys in just a bit.” He says and heads for FF’s room.

Nicky finds FF sat up in his bed with tear marks under his eyes and feels his heart twist at the sight.

FF looks at him with a baffled look on his face, “You think I’m Pan?” He asks.

Nicky can’t help his laugh.

“I gotta cover my bases!” He says and fully steps into the room.

“I don’t even know if I like anyone like that!” He squawks, a flush rising to his cheeks and this is why Nicky has to control his laughter whenever someone says that FF seems like a chill guy.

“That’s why I was covering ALL of them!” Nicky teases unable to stop the laughter that bubbles up from his voice as he takes a seat next to his friend, “You feeling better? That must have been scary with Ichirou.” He says gently.

FF looks at Nicky, “It was.” He says, “I just…I hope I didn’t upset him in any way and make things hard for Captain Neil.” He looks at Nicky who is already shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about that. He seemed,” Nicky thinks back to Ichirou’s expression as he called FF ‘bright’, “pleased. Did he say anything to you about like a deal with Neil?” He asks.

“Not really, I just…he offered a reward and I told him to give it to Captain Neil. I can’t imagine how he was handling those kind of men being after him. I thought he deserved it more than I do.” FF says expression worried, “You really think it’s okay not to worry?” He asks.

Nicky could just eat him up.

He knows FF’s family aside from his grandma is a complete write off, maybe Erik and him could discuss adoption.

FF’s his anyways.

“Yeah, you did great Smithy. Don’t you worry about a thing other than what Kevin might be trying to sneak into your food.” He pats FF’s cheek.

“Yeah, it’s too early for protein powder is what Gran said.” FF nods as if it being too early in his recovery for the vanilla protein powder in his chicken broth was the singular issue.

Nicky decides to not pursue that further, if for nothing other than his own sanity.

“The others won’t bother you about Ichirou anymore or if they do I’ll stop them. Can they come back in?” Nicky asks.

FF doesn’t hesitate before he nods, “Yeah, sorry I just…thank you for having them step out. It would have been embarrassing for them to see me cry like I did.” He says.

Nicky looks at the obvious signs that FF had cried but doesn’t offer to clean them off fully. He thinks that the sight of it will stop any further inclination to interrogate.

“Of course Smithy. If they start overwhelming you again I’ll kick them right back out.” He promises and he means it, Andrew could threaten and scowl all he wants.

FF is Nicky’s friend and Nicky is going to do right by him.

***

Nicky goes and gets Andrew, Aaron, and Captain Neil from where they were waiting.

“Where’s Kevin?” FF asks looking at the three shorter men.

“He went off with coach and your grandma. He wants to know about your recovery and probably irritate them into releasing you if only so they can get rid of him.” Aaron answers taking a seat next to Nicky. “How was the soup?” He asks.

“It was good, I was pretty hungry.” FF smiles at Aaron. They hadn’t had much conversation and in all honesty FF didn’t really know what their relationship was, if they were friends or just acquaintances but he wanted to believe it said something in favor of them being friends that Aaron was here at all visiting him.

“That’s good.” Aaron offers him a smile that looks weird on a face that is identical to Andrew’s in so many ways even if there are just tiny differences.

He chats with Nicky and Aaron about inane things. Aaron tells him about Kevin’s multiple clashes with the nutritionist, Nicky talks about how Aras baked the pie with the ingredients he’d gotten, and Captain Neil and Andrew remain silent in the chairs they had sat down in. Maybe they don’t want to talk to him other than getting information that Nicky has deemed ‘off the table’. Captain Neil keeps looking at his face, opening his mouth, and then shutting it.

Maybe they just don’t want to be friends anymore after he blew it with talking to Ichirou.

FF comforts himself that at least Nicky is his friend, Aaron seems to be friendly enough with him, Kevin cares enough about him as a player to want to find out about his recovery and that could be counted as a friend. He has a vague sense that he also made a friend along the way to the hospital but that might have just been the blood loss and shock.

Maybe the EMT was just being nice.

His Gran comes back with Coach Wymack and Kevin both of them bringing her in on their elbows for some reason. Kevin looks a little irritated but he smiles at Gran before she takes the seat left open for her at Nicky’s side. Coach Wymack lets him know that after a final check from the doctor he’ll be free to leave.

“Are…are you going back to Palmetto?” Captain Neil asks him as Coach Wymack and Kevin were taking their seats.

FF blinks.

“Yeah, why? Am I off the team?” He asks and is quite proud that his voice doesn’t shake when he asks. This will keep him from playing for the rest of the semester. It might be better for them to-

Captain Neil smiles and he sees Andrew’s shoulders loosen. “Of course you’re still on the team Smith. We’re keeping you.” He says reaching over and squeezing FF’s shoulder once before moving and sitting back and sharing a relieved look with Andrew who merely rolls his eyes.

“I told you he wasn’t going to go back home.” Andrew says in Russian.

“We made him cry.” Captain Neil says in the same language and it takes everything in FF to not go red in mortification. Oh god he thought he had escaped anyone realizing that he had sobbed like a baby to his Gran.

The mortification passes quickly when he realizes why Andrew and Captain Neil had been quiet. They had been worried he’d leave and maybe a part of that was that they’d be losing two players but…

He looks at Andrew’s relaxed body language now and knows that Andrew wouldn’t care about losing a member of the team the way Captain Neil might.

…but maybe it’s that they wanted him to stay.

The thought leaves him feeling the best he has in months.

***

Signing out of the hospital takes a lot of paperwork. There are plans being faxed over to Abby. There are follow-ups being scheduled at the hospital down in Palmetto. There are discussions about who will go get FF’s stuff from his dorm so that his stay at Abby’s can be more comfortable. There is also the fact that his Grandma has asked if she can take up the other guest room to help with his recovery.

It makes him happy and guilty all at the same time.

Eventually he’s in a wheelchair being pushed out by Nicky and loaded into the Maserati with Nicky, his Gran, Neil, and with Andrew at the wheel. He notices how Andrew’s hands are solidly on 10 and 2 and feels better even if he wishes he had asked for that medical coma.

It’s a quick trip to the cousin’s house to grab their stuff and load it into both Wymack and Andrew’s cars and then they’re on their way back to Palmetto.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust​​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​​ @sahturnos​​ @pluto-pepsi​​ @dreamerthinker​​ @passinhosdetartaruga​​ @leftunknownheart​​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​​ @sammichly​​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​​ @its-a-paxycab​​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​​ @cheesecookie​​ @theoneandonlylostsock​​ @foxsoulcourt​​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​​ @elia-nna​​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​​ @hallucinatedjosten​​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​​ @chalilodimun​​ @insectsgetcooked​​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​​ @themundanemudperson​​ @readertodeath​​ @apileofpillows​​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​​ @hellomynameismoo​​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​​ @interstellarfig​​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​​ @spencellio @adinthedarkroom​​ @harpymoth​​ @sufferingjustalilbit​​​ @anxietymoss​​​ @oddgrayhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​​​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​​​ @isoldescorner​​​ @not--a--pipedream​​​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​​​  @roonilwazlib-main​​​ @crumplelush​​​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​​​ @thesenseinnonsense​​​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupandfries​​​ @legowerewolf​​​ @deadlydodos​​​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​​​ @lesbian-blackbeard​​​ @lesbiansupernatural​​​ @silvermasquerade​​​ @thepeachfuzz​​​ @minniemariex​​​ @kazoo-the-demjin​​​ @gaypomegranate​​​ @ji-nk-ies​​​ @neilimfinejosten​​​ @omgrubelangel​​​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​​​ @percabethotplove​​​ @cozyrosykay​​​ @foxyatlas​​​ @theoneandonlylostsock​​​ @cindersapsecrets​​​ @scornedethnographer​​​ @hugemotherfuckingnerd​​​ @givemethedamnflowers​​​ @our-king-bree​​​ @astrovoidy​​​

SO I’M AT THE MENTION LIMIT. 

Moving forward I’m going to put the people who want a ping in a separate post with a link to the new part. As always if your name is there, it’s spelled right, and you didn’t get a notification then it might be something in your settings.

#Fluent Freshman AU #Nicky is going to ride this wave to shore #He's feeling great #Oh were you the one that Smithy asked to see personally? #No #Okay then Andrew maybe you should let the PROFESSIONAL talk #Smith may not have been totally ready to leave the hospital #especially after his little walk #But the admin they spoke with is lunch buddies with the nutritionist #and that Nutritionist has given an exact description of the kid who keeps bothering him #'He looks like Kevin Day from that Exy sport but just SUPER irritating' #That gentleman who is escorting that sweet old lady sure does look like Kevin Day doesn't he #Ok lets sign this kid out #When the Admin asks if Kevin will leave if they sign Smith out Wymack says yes #'Ok let me expedite this. Where do I send the follow-up care instructions?' #Kevin is VERY offended but Aras pats his cheek and he's back in goo mode again #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #Nicky Hemmick #My Fics #FF - Pt. 31

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Spare a little Yandere Ashley, please?

Isn’t that just canon? Oh well!

TW: Possessive Behaviors, Swearing, and Suicide Mentioned

Yandere!Ashley Graves x GN!Reader

Ashley couldn’t explain why she felt so strongly towards you

Maybe it was your looks. The way your eyes lit up when talking about your interests. Your voice. Or…maybe it was cause you were the only person (who wasn’t Andrew) to make her feel cared about

It started with small, insignificant things. A hello in the morning when you crossed paths. Compliments on her hair or outfit that day. A look of pure adoration when she spoked.

It wasn’t until your actions became more noticeable did she truly realize you cared about her.

“Ah shit!” Ashley hissed under her breath at the falling droplets of water.

Of course it had to rain, the one day she didn’t bring a stupid umbrella- or have Andrew to shield her- it rained. She stomped her foot in frustration, her face puffing up in fury towards Mother Nature. She sighed and was about to step forward and seal her fate with the cold and wet when—

“Here,” a familiar voice called to her, “We can share my umbrella.”

Ashley blinked, surprised. Her head slowly turned to look back at the source of the voice. Her assumptions were correct, as you smiled at her- umbrella in hand.

“Uh-…thanks-“ wearily, Ashley stepped closer to you- her arms hugging her body cautiously.

She stayed close to you, her body practically pressed against yours as you both shared the safety of the umbrella. A small blush painted her cheeks as she felt…safe pressed against your form. You always were so kind to her…

From there, she noticed your kindness more and more. And each time it made her heart melt. She felt so loved. So cherished.

…but then she saw that you treated everyone that way. Basic human decency to everyone you came into contact with. She especially hated it when it was other women.

She wasn’t special- she wasn’t as important as she thought. And that pissed her the fuck off.

She ignored you at first- thinking the silent treatment would do you some good. Teach you a lesson.

But then…it hit her-

You’re so kind. And these hussies would do nothing but take advantage of you. That’s what they were doing….taking advantage of you.

Obviously she’d have to protect you.

Ashley clung to your arm, holding you back from chasing after the woman who just ran off. You stared off, wide eyed, before turning to look at Ashley.

“Wh- What was that about?” You sounded dumbfounded, “Why did you scare her off?”

“You couldn’t see it?” She replied, her head tilting slightly.

“See what?”

“She was taking advantage of you, Y/N!” She extended an arm out in the woman’s general direction.

No. She- she wasn’t. Right? How could Ashley know that?

“How do you know that?” Your eyes dared to leave Ashley’s as you looked off towards the fleeing woman again.

“Wow, you really are too nice for your own good.” Ashley grabbed your chin and turned your head to face her once again, “It was so obvious! Cold-hearted hussies like that see a good person like you and want to drain you for everything you’ve got. You’re just too sweet to see that hun.”

Ashley’s nails dug into your arm. You winced from the pain, but didn’t object.

“You need someone like me to help you see that..” her voice was low, her knuckles white from how hard she dug her nails into your arm, “To protect you.”

And protect you she did

You began gaining a reputation in the area, and not a good one.

“Stay away from Y/N, or their girlfriend will bite your head clean off!” “That crazy chick always hangs around them- best stay away.” “I heard their friend harassed a girl into jumping off a bridge.”

Your own friends became scared of you. They slowly stopped answering your calls- all until you confronted them and they gave you their official goodbyes

“Look it’s just..” your friend shoved their hands into their pockets, eyes glued to the ground to avoid your hurt expression, “I think it’s best if we just take some time apart.”

You felt like they had more to say…but you didn’t prod as they walked away from you.

You were now completely alone

Well…except for Ashley.

She comforted you when your friends left. She was protecting you against the people taking advantage of your kindness. She was there for you when everyone left.

You were hers. Forever.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #ashley graves x reader #oh god I’ve never written Yandere stuff before #I tried to lean more into the manipulative isolation part rather than the #stabby stabby murder side

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (IX)

Chapter 9: Testing Feelings

Hello!! Here is another chapter! Will Sam’s plan work???

Hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2163

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

On paper, Sam’s plan sounded both brilliant and simple.

This night out with your friends did sound, indeed, like the perfect place to make you jealous.

Andrew had spent most of the evening with his friends, including you. You looked ethereal tonight, he wasn’t sure how you did this, how you could always make his heart skip beats by the mere sight of you. Perhaps, if he knew how, he would ask you to stop.

The group was now splitting into tinier cells, some levitating around a game of pool, others chilling by the bar, while some where still lost in conversation by the table around which you had gathered at first. You were off to get another drink. Sam leaned closer to Andrew, the two of them having remained sitting in the booth.

“The brunette over there is staring at you.”

Andrew frowned, before turning around to take a look, trying to spot the person his friend was talking about. It was easy to notice her, indeed. When Andrew locked eyes with hers, she didn’t look away, only threw him a flirtatious smile. He was the one to turn back to his friend with a blush.

“Sam… I don’t know if I should…”

“Ha! No! Don’t back down, now! We’ve talked about this, and this is the best plan we have. So, get out there, flirt with her, and see what happens with Y/N. This woman is perfect! She’s beautiful, and very clearly interested in you. So, don’t make her wait.”

But Andrew made the ice-cube of his whiskey twirl, and didn’t stand up.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Sam, who knew his friend a little too well.

Andrew swallowed back the lump in his throat, before answering in a whisper, still staring at the brown liquid in his hand.

“What if she doesn’t care? What if she doesn’t give two shites about me flirting with another woman? Do I really want to know the answer to that question?”

Sam rested a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, squeezed for a few seconds.

“No, you don’t,” he answered earnestly, making Andrew look up again. “But you need to. You need to, Andy. Trust me.”

Andrew finally nodded, emptied his drink, and finally got up. He gave the woman a timid smile as he approached her. She was sitting at the bar, alone. She was pretty. In another life, he could have fallen for someone like her. But in this one, you were filling all of his heart already.

“Hi,” he spoke quietly, his voice deep and warm although a little hesitant. “Sorry to bother you, and feel free to say no if you don’t feel like it but… can I buy a drink, by any chance?”

She raised a playful eyebrow.

“I don’t even know your name,” she fought back, and he liked the way she smiled with mischief all over her features.

“Andrew. The name’s Andrew. And you are?”

“Marissa.”

“Lovely name.”

“Yours is pretty basic, but it’ll do.”

He couldn’t help but genuinely laugh at that.

“Hey, it gets the job done. You say it, and I come running.”

“And why did you come to me? I wasn’t calling your name.”

“Hmm… no, you weren’t. But according to my friend over there, you’ve been staring. Which is highly impolite. So, I thought I should buy a drink.”

“If I was impolite, shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink?”

“You can buy round two and three, so we’re even.”

She laughed, and the sound was lovely. All Andrew noticed was that you were bringing drinks back to the table. You frowned, looked around. And then you saw him, and frowned some more, as if you had been searching for him, but were surprised to find him there, with someone else.

As he focused on Marissa again, Andrew could think of nothing but you.

“Well, you should buy me that drink, then, so I can quickly repay my debt,” Marissa answered, and Andrew ordered another whiskey.

You were looking at him and Marissa, Andrew wondered if his plan was working.

Daphne and Sam and the rest of the gang were somewhere else, lost in the dim lights and crowds of the busy pub. He was discreetly looking at you over there, standing near the table where some of your friends were gathered. Others were playing pool, some were simply scattered around the place. But everyone was lost in conversation… except for you. You were standing there, staring at him, with an unreadable expression on your face.

Did it hurt, to see him flirt with another woman?

Marissa rested her hand on his forearm. He didn’t feel anything at the touch, but he let her anyway. He even leaned a little closer, for good measure, staring at her dark eyes again. She was beautiful. You were all he could think about…

“When is this wedding then?” she asked, the tone one of conversation, but there was something syrupy in her voice that was meant to lure him in.

“In about four months now! Time flies.”

“Have you decided who you’ll go to the party with?”

He laughed, a little too loudly, just to show you that he was having fun. That he could laugh without you. That he didn’t need you.

He was lying through his teeth.

“Not yet,” he answered while staring right into this stranger’s eyes, making his voice a little deeper than usual on purpose. “Do you have suggestions?”

“I mean… I can think of a possibility… depending on what happens between then and now.”

She held up her open palm, and Andrew knew to place his phone in her hand. She entered her phone number.

“I have to go for tonight, but I hope you’ll call me soon,” she said, handing him back his phone, and her smile was tempting enough to melt a glacier.

Andrew nodded, gave her a wink. She moved closer to kiss his cheek, and he let her, bending a little to offer his skin to her lips. They were warm and soft, he could feel her lipstick on them. He wondered if you were still looking.

She gave him another warm smile; and he returned the gesture, bid her a goodnight and a safe trip home.

He didn’t look at you again, instead he grabbed his glass of whiskey, and downed the burning liquid. He turned towards the bartender and asked for a refill. He recognized your footsteps behind him, and he thought you would stop by his side, but you didn’t. You made a beeline for the bathroom instead, and his heart leapt in disappointment.

“Andy! Get your arse over here!” Alex shouted from somewhere behind him. “I need your word for a story! Daphne won’t believe me!”

Andrew shook his head, a fond and amused smile on his lips as he turned to his friends, taking his new drink with him. He kept an eye on the door to the bathroom while he joked with Alex.

“I was sick,” Andrew defended himself.

“We were thirty minutes before a show, when this guy just gives us the most cringy sound I’ve ever heard. Somewhere between a prepubescent getting hit in the balls and a dying pig.”

“I had the flu, and was completely stoned on steroids to keep my voice somehow functioning.”

“Excuses, excuses! He got us all panicking, thinking he wouldn’t be able to perform.”

“And I did!”

“How professional…”

“Thanks, Alex…”

“… to perform while higher than a fucking boeing!”

Andrew playfully rolled his eyes, making everybody laugh.

He caught a glimpse of your jacket as you hurried from the bathroom to the door of the pub.

“Ha… Y/N’s calling?”

“Fuck off,” he merely answered his bass player, making Alex chuckle.

“You’d better hurry before she leaves you behind.”

Andrew didn’t answer and merely followed his friend’s advice, emptying his drink before leaving the glass discarded on the nearest table.

You were pacing a few meters away from the entrance of the bar when Andrew stepped outside.

You froze as you noticed him.

“Y/N? You’re okay?”

You blinked at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

You looked paler than usual, your eyes were a little red. He wasn’t sure if it was due to fatigue or tears.

“Are you sick? You want to go home?”

You hesitated, but finally nodded.

“Yeah, I… I think I’m gonna head home. I’m tired and… I had a bit too much to drink.”

“Give me a sec, I’ll grab my coat.”

“I’ll call a uber. Anyway… you’re not sober either, you can’t drive, Andy…”

“It’s almost one in the morning. It’s late, let me take you home, okay?”

“I… I’d rather you don’t.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at you.

Did it mean that his plan was working? That you were jealous?

“Why not? Did I do something wrong?” he asked, feigning innocence.

You took a couple of seconds to answer, your expression still unreadable.

“No… no, you didn’t. But I don’t want you to accompany me. I don’t need your help.”

He was taken aback by your answer, by how much it hurt to hear those words coming out of your mouth.

“I just… I was just trying to be helpful.”

“You seemed busy enough tonight… Don’t you have someone else to go home with?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, trying to hide how impatient he was, how he hoped for the answer to be a yes.

You scoffed, hands coming up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re not dating! You can sleep with whoever you want.”

“You’re jealous,” and this time it was more of a statement than a question.

“I’m not! We’re not dating! We’re not exclusive! If you want to have fun with… whoever that was, then go ahead! Have fun!”

“We just flirted, nothing serious.”

“You got her number, that’s a win!”

You hesitated for a moment, but asked the question on the tip of your tongue anyway.

“What’s her name?”

“Marissa,” he answered, and you looked away as he spoke her name.

There was a tug to his heart… it came from both satisfaction and guilt.

“You know… we can make a rule about that,” he offered.

“About what?”

“About… the arrangement stopping if we want to sleep with someone else.”

You scoffed again, your arms moving once more, this time to cross before your chest.

“What makes you think you’re the only person I’ve slept with these past couple of months?”

You flinched when his face fell.

“Have you? Slept with other people while we…?”

The question remained suspended in mid-air, and Andrew tried to blink away the stupor and the pain that came with your words. There was no air left in his lungs, like a punch in the guts…

“No… no, I haven’t,” you admitted. “Have you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

You’re the only one I want, he wanted to add, but he didn’t want to spoil it all by saying something so stupid.

You remained silent, and so Andrew pulled out his phone and got a uber for you.

“Can you text me when you’re home? Please? Just to make sure you’re alright,” he insisted, and you easily yielded.

It took you a couple of minutes to walk closer to him again. He was surprised when you took his hand. He ran his calloused fingertips across your soft knuckles a couple of times before interlacing your fingers together.

“Can we… can we add that rule of yours? We stop our arrangement when we meet someone else?” you asked, fleeing his gaze.

“Okay, let’s do that.”

“So… are we going to stop our… arrangement? Are you going to see Marissa again?”

You didn’t see his reassuring smile, you were looking at the curb instead.

“No… no, I don’t think I want to see her again.”

You finally looked up at him.

“You’re sure?” you asked, but Andrew’s smile grew more tender as he nodded, and he let his free hand move upwards to rest on your cheek.

“I’d rather have you,” he confessed in a whisper, voice deep and sweet. He noticed how you leaned into his touch.

He wanted to kiss you, he wondered if you would let him… but then there was a car coming, and you took a step back as the headlights illuminated your frame while they came closer, like a halo around something divine.

“Goodnight, Andy,” your voice was soft and tender as you spoke, and he guessed that your words meant more than their usual meaning.

He gave you the most loving smile.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watched as you disappeared in the car, waited as the engines roared a couple of seconds before the vehicle started to move, stared as the car drove away.

He smiled.

You were jealous. You wanted him to have no one else. It meant that you cared. You cared. You fucking cared…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #series

[ang3lofdivinity]

Can we have Andrew and Reader have a life after the events of the game (In the Bulletless Decay route)?

Reader would be an exchange student who would have gone to stay with the Graves family, but in the end she ended up being another 'victim' of the game's circumstances.

She would be a type of person who was indifferent to almost everything, cold-blooded, with somewhat sociopathic tendencies but with a kind heart.

Okay, let's do this, after Ashley's murder, Andrew and Reader finally got fake teeth and moved somewhere far away, but with all the recent traumas and along with the fear of being abandoned.

Andrew started to have possessive tendencies, a little clingy, toxic, manipulative towards our 'poor thing' Reader and that would result in them having children in the future, to keep her trapped in the coffin with him.

❝𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧❞

꒦꒷︶°꒷₊˚ʚɞ˚₊︶꒦˚︶꒷꒦

Relationship(s): (somewhat)yan!andrew x fem!reader

Format: Headcannons + some stories

Genre: ANGST. A bit of fluff?? + Yandere(?)

Warnings: spoilers for tcoaal, yandere themes (toxic behavior, non consensual kisses and such, etc), marking, smoking, swearing, blood, death.

A/n: Ty so much for this first ever request!! Other warnings will be tagged in this post later on, ofc.

Also, fair warning to all of you, my dearest readers; if anyone or yourself is acting like this in real life, please get some professional assistance as this is not healthy. This is a work of fan-fiction. Thank you.

Andrew didn’t know all of this would happen, let alone know he’d meet someone new

He and his sister had planned to rob their parents after killing that murderer within the woods where Andrew used up all of Ashley’s bullets in her gun!

How (absolutely not) lovely.

For you? You were living somewhat in Elysian.

You were a college student, a pretty good one too, so much so because you got a scholarship to get into the college in the first place, that being a huge achievement since that was hard and not only free!

But then again, you didn’t really have anyone to stay with..

Before Mr and Mrs Graves offered, of course!

Your parents died at a young age, and you learned how to take care of yourself from that age as well

Yet.. you couldn’t feel anything for them, you felt lack of empathy, you didn’t even shed a real tear at their funeral when you truly wanted to

You felt crazy and something akin to depersonalization came over you, and it stayed there within you for months, or well you entire life

You were taken into an orphanage until you became 18, moving somewhere else to start fresh where you became an exchange student

During your time in the orphanage, you still had school.. and you did that well to the point where you colleges were almost begging you to join

But you first needed somewhere to stay while you finished your studies

And thankfully, the Graves gave you the offer to stay with them (which you took)

You’d cook, clean after your own messes, do chores, keep quiet unless it was a severely bad issue, wouldn’t be around during their.. ‘personal playful time’, and pay them for staying there

In return, they kept you fed, helped you with clothes (specifically Mrs Graves), and the most important of all; let you stay there and finish your studies

You worked some extra jobs outside of college to pay for the Graves and to continue your studies, etc

You usually slept on the couch or at the table from studying, not like you got much sleep at all since you practically overworked yourself

Speaking of college, you didn’t have many friends because of your “weird behavior”

I’m talking about the fact had a lack of empathy for others including yourself

You were impulsive

You lied a lot

You were a bit manipulative

You ignored most rights and feelings of others

And the cherry on top, you were aggressive with most people

All factors of your sociopathic tendencies and personality

You had started going to therapy to try and fix that, and it somewhat worked..

Keyword: somewhat

You found out that you had a much more.. softer side so to speak

There wasn’t much you could do about your sociopathic tendencies but to mask them

And you did just that

Cutting to the chase here though, you were out for the day getting some ingredients for some cookies for you along with Mr and Mrs Graves

And if you had any extras, you’d give some other people within the neighborhood.

You got all of your items, went to the register and payed for all of it before packing them all into bags and leaving

The store wasn’t too far from the Graves house, so you would just walk to and from the store

One your way though, an odd sense of apprehension took over you.

It.. was just super weird

You had to stop for a few seconds on your walk and just, shudder

And this wasn’t normal

You pressed on nonetheless, making it to the house

When you unlocked the door, taking out your key and opening the door all the way- you saw Mrs Graves on the couch in deep though

However, the atmosphere was palpable

Something wasn’t right.

“Good evening, Mrs Graves.”

She didn’t respond, only looking up at you in pure fear.

“Dad??” Someone called from kitchen

..Dad? What.

Mrs Graves slowly got up as a perplexed look came across your face, going into the kitchen

She said something you couldn’t hear before she approached you

“(___)..” she started

Before you knew it, two people walked out of the kitchen

One was a woman with cherry blossom pink eyes, the same as Mr Graves. She wears a black top together with a visible black brassière, light grey shorts, and a yellow pendant hanging from a black choker. Her hair is uncombed and tied at the back in a ponytail

Then the other was a man with emerald green eyes like that of Mrs Graves (just darker) who was pale-skinned with black uncombed hair, like the woman’s and a black, slightly over-sized jumper with light grey ripped pants.

“..meet my two children, Ashley and Andrew.”

Safe to say you were genuinely so shocked

“..Good evening. I’m (___), it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You spoke solemnly, a blank look on your face.

“Nice to meet you too..” the male suddenly spoke as he looked somewhat.. stunned and mesmerized by who knows what.

“What he said.” The girl rolled her eyes inconspicuously (or at least tried to), but you saw it. You always managed to catch onto small things like that.

From then on, it was somewhat.. odd living with the two newcomers.

You crashed over at a close friend’s house for a while as Mrs Graves tried to figure everything out, but a little bit after that Andrew gave you.. small little gestures here and there, like he was asking for you to stay.

And sometimes you did.

On those times, he would try talking to you after a lot of awkward silence in between you both.

“..(___), right?” Andrew quietly asked you, looking over at you.

“..Mhm.” You managed to utter back as you refused to meet his eyes as eye contact wasn’t.. all that comfortable

“You.. go to college, what profession are you working on?”

“Law. I’m thinking about becoming a lawyer” you quickly replied back.

“Mm..”

“Let me guess, you were a psychology major?”

“How did you-“ He stuttered over his words, baffled by yours.



“You just seem like that kinda person to be interested in that major” you calmly stated.

You two had a long staring contest before Andrew spoke again for the both of you.

“I’m pretty fond of you..”

“Any particular reason why?..”



“You’re kinda like… somewhat the opposite of my sister” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Don’t like her all that much?” You raised an eyebrow.

“It’s- not that..”

“What is it then?”

“..We’ve only had each other for.. so long. As long as I can remember. My- our mom forced me to take care of Ashley when I was 7 because she had me when she was 15 and felt like I was able to take of a 5 year old Ashley. That,, didn’t go well. Shes attached to me at the hip and I can’t get rid of her now.”

“Maybe try. Point out every little thing shes doing that makes you uncomfortable, tell her how shes made it feel like what it is shes doing normal when it’s not.”

You returned to slowly eat your food while Andrew just, stared.

“..Thank you” he suddenly spoke as you gave a small nod.

Tapping your foot for a few seconds as you pondered about what to say next, you sighed softly and turned your head to him.

“Want some?..” you motioned to your food.

He, although astounded by the request, accepted.

He didn’t even bother grabbing another fork and just ate from yours..

Ew.

Moving on from this however, you two bonded over a lot of things you thought you probably never would.

Interests (mainly him liking things that you liked), personalities, dislikes, likes, etc.

And due to this, you started hanging out more with each other!

And his sister obviously showed that she didn’t like you because of that.

“Oops” she’d say as she spilled over your drink, ate your food even after when you caught her multiple times and told her to stop, dropping anything she had in her hands onto you, it was just.. sucky of her.

And whenever you tried anything even defending yourself, she went crying to Andrew!!

“I’m sorry.” He would mumble to you and give you a hug for his sisters acts while she stared daggers at you.

This went on for a while until one night—

“Get up” a harsh voice echoed quietly as you were violently shook from your slumber. You had passed out after studying for hours on end for your exam next afternoon.

The room was filled with a scent of blood, and the food you all had from earlier. The zephyr wafting

“H-huh?” You drowsily said, wiping the drool away from your mouth and looking around as a hand reached up to your head and slammed it down onto the wooden table, creating a loud thud as you winced.

You wanted to yell, scream, fight back. But, with the moonlight shining through the curtains of the windows and illuminating your surroundings, you saw Ashley holding a gun.

Your breath hitched as you chewed your bottom lip as you waited for Ashley said something else.

“I didn’t say to speak, dumbass. Keep fucking quiet.” The girl groaned as you heard footsteps approaching.

“Ashley!! I told you not to touch her! You have already taken our parents lives— but not hers. You can’t, Ashley.” Andrew’s familiar voice echoed throughout the kitchen, sounding demanding.

“Oh? So she matters more than me now? YOU CARE MORE ABOUT HER?” She started raising her voice, almost loud enough to alarm the neighbors as he slapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up.

“KEEP YOUR FUCKING VOICE DOWN.” He whispered yelled as he furrowed his brows together. She pried off his hand with a furious look, gritting her teeth together.

“Oh, don’t wanna admit it, huh? WELL FUCK YOU!” Ashley got closer to Andrew than anyone would be comfortable with as she pointed the gun at him.

“.. damn, crazy bitch.” You whispered to yourself and giggled, before you even knew it she had the gun pointed at you next.

And she got close to pulling the trigger before—

Blood.

Theres blood everywhere.

Andrew had killed his sister with the cleaver he had been clutching in his hands so tight that his knuckles turned white.

You didn’t even know what to say anymore..

Well.

“..what did you both do to Mr and Mrs Graves?” The question slipped past your lips even though it wasn’t the moment to be talking about any of this when someone in-front of you has been murdered.

“It’s.. nothing”

“Andrew- what did you do?” You asked, adamant on prying out an answer from him.

“…”

No answer.

Who knew that this little encounter would lead to both you and Andrew cleaning up the body of his dead sister.

But, nonetheless, he took a shower to clean up from the blood that splattered all over as you turned to washing both of your piles of clothes within the washer and dryer.

No sign of Mr or Mrs Graves at all.

You laid out some clothes from him from Mr Graves; A baggy sweater, some baggy light grey pants, some really old converse shoes you’d thought he’d fit in.

Surprisingly, they did!

Huh.

Like Father like Son. You guess

Being that those shoes are when Mr Graves was just a teen to young adult.

Nonetheless, you two decide to have a conversation about.. what to do now.

Which was… off putting

“I can pay for most of the house bills. I have a job after all… though- I would have to find out how to get the police to believe that the Graves gave the house to me.” You spoke. Hands resting one over the other in your lap.

Andrew was in front of you while you were seated on the couch, your head felt.. dizzy about everything that he and his now.. non-available sister did.

The Graves weren’t the best, but they weren’t the worse while you knew them. So why?..

He told you everything about them that happened in his childhood, and you just… felt a bit disgusted.

“We could just.. move into a less expensive place.”

“True. Until I graduate, of course. Then I could get us into a much bigger and nicer house.” You chimed in, a faint small on your face.

“I can also help you get a job, Andrew”

He seemed.. surprised.

“I can also see if I can get you back into college. I can truly believable story about why you dropped out.”

Andrew stayed silent before he slowly dipped his head down low.

“Why.. are you helping me so much?”

A quiet gasp left your mouth, your lips agape as you fidgeting with your fingers. You paused to take a moment to yourself.

“..I feel bad for you. You deserve much more than this world offers.”

Safe to say he cried a bit. Thanking you profusely.

He also told you a bit about having to dump the bones of Mr and Mrs Graves, along with Ashley.

So you went just as the sun was beginning to rise, and chucked the bags out into the lake, with the three skulls.

The two of you then just… sat in the car for a bit, processing what you two just did.

“Ready?..”

“..not really but just,, go ahead…”

The car then drove off, you hugging your knees as you stared out the window.

And that’s when the two of you started bonding more and moved in together!!

Of course, the police got into contact with you more than once about the deaths of Mr and Mrs Graves, and you told them you knew nothing as you tried to make yourself seem sadder than you were about the situation.

Nonetheless, living with Andrew in the apartment you bought wasn’t too bad.

You quickly graduated your college, now getting a job as a lawyer.

Andrew himself got a job somewhere, thankfully well paying.

You two managed to move shortly after you both were doing well enough on money as he expressed that he wanted to go back to college, to learn psychology!

You didn’t see any harm in that, and decided to help him pay for the expenses.

Maybe you shouldn’t have though.

Eventually, during your time together, he’d start commenting on some of the outfits you wore.

“..That looks a bit too short”

“The color doesn’t match you”

“It exposes.. maybe a bit too much”

You of course questioned further why he was acting like this when he wasn’t even dating you, making him reply; “I’m just.. worried about you”

So you shrugged it off.

Then the gifts started.

Romantic ones.

Flowers you loved, stuffed animals, jewelry you liked, etc.

You found it.. admiring.

Andrew started getting more touchy too.

Even if you didn’t want it.

He apologized for that of course, before going back to touch you more.

This was all before he proposed the idea that you two should start dating.

Of course, for mainly appearance looks.

But you didn’t know the truth, nor the mistake you’ve made.

It only took a little more time before Andrew started getting more and more possessive over you.

He would always have some form of physical contact with you, started saying you could only go out with him, until it changed you couldn’t go out at all besides for work.

Even then he would secretly have a tracker on you always to make sure you were always where you said you were.

You tried to object to his actions, before he started making excuses for his behavior.

“Do you know how many men would drool over you??”

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

He would then cajole you to place down the subject.

Now while you were at home, he was all handsy with you, even being bold enough to start giving you hickeys and markings in very noticeable places.

And he was far too good at manipulating you that you would start standing up for yourself.

The final straw was when he got you pregnant.

You sobbed for days, you never wanted children.

You eventually tried to get him out and break up with him.

But he threatened you all too well.

“If you do this, i’ll make sure to ruin everything you have, you wouldn’t want to raise that child all by yourself?” “You wouldn’t live without me”

So you sucked it up, and couldn’t even get rid of the child either since you were too afraid.

Genuinely afraid

So.. now you’re trapped with him forever in this rose covered coffin. One where the roses are wilting and have poisonous thorns so you may never leave again.

Woah, this took— much longer than I expected. But, i’m alive!! Ty all for reading and I’ll be sure to try and update more!

#andrew graves #andy graves x reader #x reader #the coffin of andy and leyley #yandere #yandere andy #yandere andy graves #andy graves #fluff #smut #angst #children #sociopath reader #female #female reader #ashely graves #leyley #leyley graves #mrs graves #mrs graves the coffin of andy and leyley #mr graves #mr graves the coffin of andy and leyley #🪽 — ang3lofdivinity #🕊️ — submissions

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Andrew is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

“I want you to take this,” Dr. Kemp turns back to you, holding a spiral notebook with black and white cover, “and I want you to use it.”

You stare, uncertain as he crosses the room. Use it? How?

“You can write down your feelings, you can make lists for yourself, you can track the days…” he explains, “but I want you to put something in it every day. Can you do that for me?”

You look at the notebook as he holds it out. You slowly take it with both hands, lowering it to your lap as you run your thumbs up and down the cover. It’s brand new. You can smell the freshness of the paper.

“Can I draw in it?” You ask.

“Sure, if that’s what works for you,” he affirms, “that’s for you. You can bring it with you to our next appointment, but you don’t need to show me anything. It’s just there so you can record your moods and anything that might be a trigger for you.

“Oh,” you look up at him shyly, meeting his bold blue eyes for only a second before dropping your head.

“This is a safe place, alright? I want you to think of it like that. Everything within these walls stays between us. Our little secret.”

“Okay,” you hug the notebook to your chest.

“And I want you to set yourself a little goal every day. Nothing big, alright? It could be a shower, it could be reading a chapter of a book, it could be as simple as walking around the house,” he continues, “but you can’t stay in bed all the time. You gotta take care of yourself. You have to give yourself love and those things are the best sort of love.”

You nod and rock slightly, “yes, doctor. Are we… done now?”

“Are we?” He bends and crosses his arms over the back of the empty chair, “that’s up to you.”

“I… I think. I don’t wanna waste any more of your time.”

“Waste? No. See? Don’t talk about yourself like that. You didn’t waste my time, you enriched it,” he smiles, you see only a glimpse of how it brightens his features. “I think you should go home and get some rest. You came all the way here and you did a really good job.”

He pushes himself straight, “I’ll have my receptionist schedule a follow-up.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you stand and pick at the corner of the notebook.

“You let Andy take care of you too, huh? He’s worried,” he extends his arm, directing you to the door, “he’s a good friend of mine.”

“Uh, alright,” you murmur as he walks with you to the door. He rests his hand on the handle and you smell his cologne, rich but overwhelming. 

“It was really nice meeting you,” he turns the handle slowly.

“You too,” you squeak.

“See ya around,” he opens the door, “and remember, take care of you.”

“Thanks,” you keep your chin down as you exit.

Andy sits in the waiting room at the edge of his seat. He grips his knees and stands swiftly as he sees you. He must’ve been waiting a very long time. That felt like it lasted forever. The tension in his forehead slackens as you approach.

“How was it, honey? You okay?” He asks, his tone slightly addled.

“Yes, er, maybe,” you answer, “I don’t know.”

“What’s that?” He taps the top of the notebook.

“Um, a journal.”

“Steve gave that to you?”

You nod.

“That’s very nice of him. Well, how about we stop and buy you some nice pens to write in it?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I have to grab a few things,” he interjects, “I kind of… fell behind. I haven’t been out of the house, you know? I couldn’t leave you, I was so worried.”

“Oh? What about work?” You wonder tremulously.

“I had some time banked, it’s really not a big deal, but I gotta grab some groceries and we can look at some cute pens…”

“Can’t… can’t you do it later?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He rubs his beard and exhales. “Well, I’d have to drop you off and then come all the way back–”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you blurt out as you hear his disappointment, “I’m sorry, no, we can go, I just… I’m tired, is all.”

“It’s okay, honey. We’ll try to be fast, how about that?”

You nod and hide behind your lashes. Your guilt flows over and chokes you tightly. He brought you all the way here and missed work and it’s all your fault. Because you’re broken and useless.

“I’ll… I’ll try to make dinner,” you suggest, “Dr. Kemp says I should set goals.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Andy softens, “we should get going before it’s too busy.”

🕊️

You sit in the car, fluttering through the blank pages as Andy drives. You should write about your appointment. Put down everything that Dr. Kemp said before you forget. That’s a good plan. He’s right, it’s easy to set small goals.

“Hey, uh, I uh, can I talk to you?” Andy turns down the music.

“Er sure,” you shrug.

“Right, um, I wasn’t sure when to– or how to– I don’t wanna upset you, you know that, right? That I wouldn’t hurt you?” He begins, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

You blink and stare at the dashboard, “I know, Andy. You’ve… done a lot for me.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that. It’s not… I don’t consider it a task, but er, the other day, I wanted to say sorry,” he clears his throat, squirming in his seat, “I should’ve knocked.”

Your throat tightens and you sit back stiffly. Your whole body locks up as the memory enshrines you. The damp air, the hot water, him staring at you, at your naked body.

“No,” you utter, “no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

He’s quiet as he turns the wheel, “sorry, sweetie, like I said, I don’t want to upset you. I just want… I’m just sorry for bursting in like that. I never want you to feel unsafe. Especially with me.”

“I… don’t,” you sniff, “it was just… a mistake. Can we forget it?”

“Sure,” he accepts, “yeah, let’s just forget it.”

“Thanks,” you lean into the door, watching the traffic through the window. 

Your body is covered in goosebumps. You feel like he’s seeing it all again. Just talking about it makes you feel exposed. What he must have thought about you. Hideous and gross.

“Here we are,” Andy says as the blinker clicks loudly.

He steers into a large lot and you peer up at the mall marquee. What are you doing here? You thought he was going to the grocery store?

“I got coupons for the place in here,” he explains as if reading your mind, “they just opened it, put it where the Target was.”

“Oh… I… never come here…”

“I think you’ll like it. They have everything– damn, not a lot of spots left. We’ll have to walk a bit.” He rolls into a space, “might be good for you to stretch your legs. We can always sit if you need to.”

You don’t argue. You feel bad enough. You won’t get in his way again.

“Sure.”

You get out and leave the notebook on the seat. Andy waits for you by the bumper and you follow him up the row of cars. You stop and wait to cross to the nearest entrance. The place is vast and makes your heart pound. There’s so many people coming and going through the many doors.

Inside, you feel a greater sense of doom. Shoppers brushing too close, teens speaking loudly in large groups, children screaming and mothers with strollers. Unthinkingly you grab onto Andy’s arm, keeping close to him.

“Hey,” he looks down at you as he leads you through the wide walkway.

“Just… don’t wanna get lost,” you cling to him tighter at the thought.

“That’s alright,” he smiles and looks around, “oh, hey…” He pulls you over to a shop window, “look at that.”

He points to the dress on the mannequin. It’s a nice shade of blue with the silhouette of birds patterned across it. Very pretty but you don’t wear dresses.

“Cute, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He stares, unmoving. You glance around. Where is the grocery store? You just want to leave this place.

“Come on,” he tugs you towards the entrance of the shop, “we can see if they have it in your size.”

“What? No. Andy. That’s okay. I don’t… I don’t need a dress.”

He stops just inside, “maybe, but do you want it?”

You chew your cheek, “I don’t know…”

“Look, you really don’t have that many clothes. I didn’t want to embarrass you but I spoke with Steve and he said… maybe it would be good to get you some new things. Like a refresh. Start new–”

“You said. You said we came to get groceries.”

“We did, honey, but I left this out. I was trying to surprise you. I thought– I thought it was a nice surprise.”

You see his expression fall. Oh no. You feel awful. You’re not trying to complain or be ungrateful, you just hate crowds and all these strangers.

“I… okay, it is nice. Andy,” you let go of him, “really, it’s so nice. No one ever… Amber always got me handmedowns, but I never…” you put your hands behind you and bounce on your toes, “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I know it’s all very new. I wasn’t trying to upset you or scare you,” he says, “maybe we could just look online.”

It’s clear he’s disappointed, if not agitated. You feel rotten. You remind yourself of all that he’s done and every time, you just whine like a baby.

“No, we can look around…” you try to smile.

He gives you a thoughtful look then peeks around the shop, “alright… well, you wanna try the dress on?”

You wince. You typically didn’t try things on at the thrift shop. You just picked things that looked like they would fit. The idea of getting undressed here, even in a private stall, is scary. Don’t be a baby.

“Okay,” you acquiesce, “I could do that.”

“Great,” he says and claps his hands.

He spins on his heel and you trail him as he confidently weaves between the tables and other shoppers. He stops before the dresses hung behind the window and sifts through the hangers. He slips one of the blue ones off the rod and holds it up.

“I think this is your size? I’m not sure.”

“Looks like,” you mutter, “um, I’ll… try it.”

“We can look at a few other things,” he offers.

“Maybe after?”

“Alright,” he searches around and flags down one of the employees, “excuse me, she wants to try this one.”

“Wonderful,” the woman chimes and takes the hanger from him, “just the one?”

“For now,” Andy smiles.

“This way, sweetheart,” the woman says as she beckons you with her long acrylic nails.

You follow her and Andy brings up the rear. She takes you around the counter and through a doorway. A row of stalls line the wall and she unlocks one with a key, hanging the dress inside. She steps back and leaves the door open for you.

“It’s all yours. Let me know if I can get you anything else. My name’s Isa.”

“Thanks,” you murmur mousily and she grins before strutting off.

“I’ll be out here,” Andy says as he sits on the bench.

You enter the changing room and close the door, certain to slide the bar through the loop. You turn and see yourself in the mirror. You flinch. You look down at your feet, refusing to acknowledge your reflection.

You undress then grab the dress. You pull down the zipper and shimmy it on. You strain to pull the zipper back up and fix the skirt so it hangs down properly. The skirt ends above your knees.

“Everything okay?” Andy calls from outside.

“Good,” you squeak and turn to face the door. You grab the side of the skirt, holding it firmly as you slide open the lock. You open the door reluctantly and reveal yourself. You clutch the other seam, “I think it’s a bit short.”

Andy looks at you. His cheek twitches as he sits up and smiles, “really? Looks fine to me…” he stares, making you squirm, “looks really nice on you, dove.”

“I don’t know…”

He nods and bites his lower lip, “it’s whatever you want.”

There it is again. Disappointed. You look down. It’s not that short and it is pretty. You could put a sweater over it and maybe some leggings underneath.

“I’ll get it,” you raise your head, “thanks, Andy.”

“Of course,” he says brightly.

You retreat into the dressing room and change back into your own clothes. You slip the dress back onto the hanger and bring it out with you. He takes it from you and guides you back into the shop. He stops you at a rack of jewelry.

“Look,” he grabs a silver necklace with a bird charm, “it’ll go with the dress.”

“Oh, sure,” you agree. Whatever he wants, you’ll get. You’d hate to overstep and you don’t exactly have a good sense of style. “Very pretty.”

“Let’s just have a look around, you never know… maybe find some nice shoes too?”

You nod and let him lead the way. As you progress through the shop, he picks out more things; some skirts, a sweater, some shirts, more jewelry, even some belts. He has an armful by the time you approach the checkout. You wring your hands. That’s a whole lot of stuff.

“Someone’s birthday?” Isa asks as she greets you at the counter.

“Uh, no, just… shopping,” Andy answers, “she needed a few things.”

“A few?” Isa scoffs, “I wish I had a husband who would spoil me with just a few things.”

“Husband?” You blanch.

Andy chuckles, “she deserves it.”

You notice how he doesn’t correct her. Maybe he feels too awkward. Like you.

“Sir, would you like to buy one of our membership cards? It’ll get you twenty percent off today’s purchase.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he pulls out his wallet, “how much?”

“It’s twenty dollars annually, gets you ten percent off every purchase.”

“Not bad, sure, why not? We might be back.”

“Andy,” you say softly.

He ignores you as he gets his card free. You watch the total mount as Isa scans each item. Somehow, this doesn’t feel like a favour. It’s just another number to add to the tally of what you owe him.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #library au #defending jacob

[live-laugh-lenney]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a little something about being on tour with George and Max like how max has Andrew with him no worries if not love your writing x

oh, imagine all the mischief they'd get up to... :'))

george loves it.

he loves waking up and seeing yn in the crew bunk opposite him on the tour bus, wearing an oversized t-shirt from their merch collection, curled up underneath the blanket she'd brought to add to her home comforts on the bus. he loves cosying up with her on the sofa in the made-up living space area, munching on snacks that they would buy from the service stations they stop at on the way to each location, as they watch the world go by on their travels to the next tour location. he loves getting to stay up late with her after each show is finished, talking nonsense and having the bus to themselves as max has his snooze in the bedroom at the end. there's just something relaxing, for him, that helps him wind down after each show with her being right beside him.

she's there during the meet and greets, too.

usually sat in the background or loitering by the set on the stage as she watches the two of them hug or take gifts from those who had brought them something special, and she listens as they say hello to everyone who had paid for tickets to see them before each of the shows. and, every so often, someone would recognise yn and they'd come over and say hello to her and include her in their conversations which she absolutely adores. (and sometimes, they bring gifts just for her and she doesn't know whether to cry on the spot or hug them or do both - which george loves to see happen and he's always standing behind with a massive grin on his face as he watches her interact with his fans).

her and max would be chaos.

they'd constantly 'bicker' over george and during the london show, she would make an appearance on stage with a 'query that she needs help with' and it would simply be about how there's some guy who won't leave her boyfriend alone - much like andrew did at the recent london show at the weekend.

"tonight, we thought we'd welcome a few special guests who have a few issues of their own that we most definitely are qualified to help with," george introduces the next, and final, segment of the london show and it's the time when the audience understands why the two arthur's and herself had been announced as guests for the show, "so, without further ado, can we please welcome onto the stage... our very first guest and my very lovely girlfriend, yn!"

she's met with cheers and blinding lights shining upon her as she steps from behind the wings of the stage and makes herself known to those in the audience. her cheeks heating up, already sweating from the stage lights that were intensely lighting her up, and her legs were like jelly as she with the phone in her hand.

"i'm actually really thankful you guys chose my query," she says into the microphone once the cheers had subsided, "i think it's getting worse and i was in desperate need of some answers."

"and how may we help you, dear yn?"

"you see, my boyfriend is currently on tour with his podcast co-host and i'm pretty certain said co-host has a thing for said boyfriend," she says playfully and max feigns shock, holding his hand to his chest with his mouth gaped open, "he's very forward with advances."

"how forward?" max asks.

"well, i'm currently visiting my boyfriend and there's been times when i come back from the toilet and said co-host is in my place beside him. he likes to cuddle with him a lot, too, which makes me feel very jealous," yn frowns playfully and her brows furrow dramatically and it makes the audience laugh loudly, "i was hoping for some alone time since it's been a while since i've seen him but, i'm scared i'm being replaced unwillingly."

"have you tried anything to stop this?" george asks, trying his best to hold back the laughter that was building up within him, "maybe, we should get our own bus?"

"or, you know, you should just consider the option of a throuple?"

shepherd's bush fills with cheers and claps and george just shakes his head at how max encourages the crowd to go louder with over-the-top hand movements to increase the volume. and yn can't help but giggle as george rolls his eyes.

"a throuple?"

"i'm sure said co-host is happy to share," max looks over at george as george's eyes are trained on yn, smirks on both of their lips, "i mean, if you're happy to share, that is."

"i don't know," yn pretends to think about it, tapping her chin with her finger before she placed both of her hands on her hips, "my boyfriend is very handsome, you see, so i really understand why he's in such demand by this co-host."

"maybe said boyfriend has eyes for his girlfriend and only her?" she hears george say into his microphone as the audience cheers at her previous statement, "have you asked him that? you're very beautiful so maybe he doesn't see what's happening because he's distracted by how you are? maybe he just loves you so much that he can't see what's happening?"

max pretends to gag and yn snickers softly at his actions.

"i don't think my boyfriend would like to hear you say that, george clarke," yn teases and george stands from his seat, walking around the desk he was sat at to stand beside her, "you know what, i think i'm just being silly because the co-host is so gay. unless-"

"nope," george shakes his head and stands beside her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips as the crowd coos and cheers at what they were witnessing. and away from the microphone, he whispers, "i love you. nothing to worry about," into her ear and it's enough for her to melt under him.

"give it up for yn, ladies and gents," max grins widely and gives her a theatrical applaud himself, standing up to give her a hug, "i feel so accomplished tonight, we've helped so many people."

and when the show finishes, like she does every night, she joins them as they do a mini meet-and-greet with those who were waiting by the stage door in hopes of seeing them after the show. and she happily takes photos with those who asked her and has conversations with those who ask her questions and want to talk to her opposed to max and george.

it's always fun and the two weeks she spends on tour is something she speaks about for ages.

mini tiktok vlogs on her days spent with them, instagram q&a's about what she got up to and what her favourite night was, posting tweets during the shows as little updates for those that never got tickets. it's like a two week holiday for her and she has the best time. xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey blurbs #george clarkey headcannons #george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clarke fics #george clarke blurbs #george clarke headcannons

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Heartbeat

This header is from this post i havent stopped staring at by @/askmatthias (pls check him out omg omg omg it so good pls you gotta look at it gives me life actively)

In honor of Matthias coming home (in five days) and me begging for his s tier skin -hands you a fic- bby pls come home i need you in need you

Rated Explicit | Warning: vampirism

The clashing of swords drew his attention innocently, when it was quiet he did not know the scene would change to see you putting back on your shirt and the Lord of the Desaulnier manor fixing his hair.

“Your lamb is here.” The man is shirtless and holding a foil-fencing sword in each hand. Matthias never directly interacted with the mysterious noble but almost everyone says he is a cold standoff individual, Aesop though never spoke ill of him.

“At least pretend to be a gracious host, Joseph!” Snapping at him while he puts the foil-fencing swords back on the sword racks. The click of the vampire lord's tongue is loud. He is intimidating, beautiful as a woman but graceful as a man, Matthias stares then stops the second the other notices.

“Be sure to do what we talked about, (Name).” His hand is on your lower back and his lips are on your shoulder as he pulls back your shirt. It is personal, and though you are intimate with most of those who live in this manor, what he sees is some more to it.

From what you told him about vampires by nature are creatures who bend to the whims of desire, a beast that hungers endlessly. Some can control it while others become enslaved by it.

“Yes, monsieur.” You turn your head as he places two more kisses before slipping away. “Good night.” It is strange hearing you speak with a much more gentle tone. You are gentle, especially with Emil, Andrew, and Aesop. You can be kind, you can be firm, and you adjust to the needs of the individual.

“Evening.” Lord Desaulnier says before turning around and heading towards the door the puppeteer stands in front of.

Matthias moves aside not wishing to touch him unintentionally, his eye glancing and catching the cold glance of piercing red eyes. That made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The door is closed behind him and now you are alone with the vampire fledgling.

“Don't mind him,” Speaking up when alone with the new arrival, “He is the same way with Emil too.” Emil is the man who is always lingering in your shadow. One might say shy but Matthias believes he is cautious. The only man to sleep in your room, and honestly sleep there.

“I see.” His gaze is elsewhere as you finish dressing, “Training this late?”

“Joseph needed to clear his mind for a bit,” You turn around now once more wearing your shirt, “You're up late. Can't sleep?”

Matthias shakes his head, “... I got hungry.” Though he ate a few hours ago, his gut still ached for more.

“Alright,” Taking his hand, “Let's go to your room.”

“Wait, why my room?” He was going to head to the kitchen.

“To feed, unless you want to bite me here?” Titling your head to the side slightly curiously.

“No,” Clearing his throat, “No, I mean… Are you sure?” It has been some time since he fed on you, he still fears he may hurt you.

“Of course. You need a direct source before you can solely use the blood vials and blood wine.”

You learned during your time with Joseph that there are ways to satisfy the beast of hunger. Solid foods like red meats from animals help maintain and hold weight. Bloodwine to calm the body. Blood vials to store and immediately drink if one is not feeding on enough blood— However, blood in storage can clot over time.

Direct blood drinking though has its uses but rarely is anyone willing like you, and rarely do most vampires know how to drink enough without killing anyone.

"Come on, the sooner you feed the less likely you will hurt me.”

The puppet named Louis is in another room locked in a case. This is done by Matthias Czernin's specifications, yet, he still checks the locks on the door. The door is across from his room and sandwiched between Edgar's room and Frederick's room. Both are pure-blood vampires who were given invitations by Joseph.

Matthias rarely sees his neighbors, thankfully. You did that purposely so he does not feel like he must interact with everyone immediately.

You wish he would personalize his room… A bed, a workbench for his puppeteering equipment, and a wardrobe. Nothing more.

“(Name).” Having you sit on the bed with your back to him, “Can you… May you lower your shirt?”

You lower it until it rests on your forearms, and you lean your head to the side exposing your neck. His hands are restless, unsure of what to do. “Hold my shoulders to keep me steady.” He holds you, gentle at first but he grips harder when his fangs latch onto your neck.

The sting from fangs piercing skin is not something you can grow used to, it hurts a tad less but the pain is still there. But the pain never lingers as pain turns to pleasure, your body swaying as he drinks from you. You know your limits and the more he feeds the closer you are to reaching it.

“Matthias,” A groan from him as his arms wrapped around you keeping you in place, “Matthias, enough.” You might have to stop him and your hand reaches behind you to touch his face.

This makes him stop feeding, his mouth off your skin, tongue licking the residue of blood seeping out of the bitemark.

“You did good.” Praising him as you turn around when his arms let go of you, “Feeling better?”

A nod, he looks away, “You should put your shirt back on.” If he can blush then he has enough blood in his system.

“It's just my chest.” Teasing him, “You have seen me naked before.”

Once! By mistake because Naib Subedar and Norton are too daring for their own good!

“Do you not want to look at me?”

“I do.” A desperate tone, “But…”

“But?”

“More.” He tries to find the words, “I would want more.” His hands on his lap gripping the fabric of his pants.

You fully turn and take his hand placing it on your chest, the center where he can feel your steady heartbeat. You push forward against it until you are close enough to smell your blood on his lips.

“(Name).” Do not tease him, please do not be cruel.

“Matthias.”

The bed creaks with movement, the shared uneven breathing, the moans and groans of pleasure. The room for the first time seems more lively than it has in months.

You move your hips, rocking them forward and back, grinding slowly on his lap. There is no rush, you want him to experience this slow and steady for right now. You hold onto his back, his hands holding your thighs from underneath. His mouth meshed with yours, the puppeteer cannot get enough of kissing you.

He is not the best kisser as he has no experience in this but he learns along the way by copying your movements. Everywhere you touch it is like his body cannot help yearning for more, the voices for once are silent, and gazing up at you is like looking upon a god.

You would never take such a compliment, you never believe yourself above others whether physically or mentally. Everyone is an equal and you give only what others give you.

He wishes you would not. Wish you had met him first… Saved him. Though he knows it took a lot to get you to this current gentle state. The violence he heard Aesop was the first, he spoke only once about the large photograph of you in one of the rooms in the manor. The you who knew only blood and steel, a far cry to the person he has in bed with him.

When you both are exhausted, laying on the bed covered in the thin coat of sweat with his cum inside of you and you cum on his all over his now cock. His hand is on his chest, there is no heartbeat but he swears he can feel it racing. His eyes close as you pet his messy hair, his head on your chest with his ear above your racing heart.

You speak to him, asking him if he is okay or if he needs anything.

“You,” Clinging to you, “Can you stay?” Emil is probably going to be in a bad mood tomorrow when he wakes up to you not beside him. For some reason that makes Matthias happy.

“Yes, I can.” Smiling sheepishly, “As long as you want.”

#idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #matthias czernin #matthais czernin x you #matthias czernin x reader #puppeteer x you #puppeteer x reader #identity v puppeteer #idv matthias

[andrewminyardslawyer]

Alright here's my predictions/wishful thinking for The Sunshine Court

- Jean showers differently because of the water boarding trauma

- he dissociates A Lot

- chronic pain. Especially his hands. I feel like he has migraine attacks all the time too (me?? Projecting?? Never!)

- either hates the dark or needs it because he's so out of his depth and it's familiar

- I'm desperately hoping the Trojans don't hate him for being short with his responses and general demeanor. Please love this boy with all your hearts I'm begging

- Jean and Renee don't work out because she saved his life and he feels like he owes her or something similar. To quote Nora "she is not his answer and he isn't hers"

- I know I said it back in November but the "love story" is Jean and learning that who is is isn't shameful. The love story is Jean and being alive (who/if he ends up with someone should be the least of our concerns. I just want him to be as close to happy as possible and healthy)

- Jean is going to have absolutely no idea how to function in the world. Everything about his life has been scheduled and decided for him and now he has zero guidance and no one who knows what happened to him to help. Classes, books, food, travel, down time, clothing, hygiene stuff, hair cut. He has never been able to choose for himself before

- I know Jeremy knows the very very basics but nothing even remotely close to the truth and he is going to be SO far in over his head

- idk what it will be but Jean finding a hobby that he genuinely loves will make me cry (everything is going to make me cry)

- if Jean doesn't have an eating disorder I will be shocked tbh

- starts some therapy with Bee or they at least try to have him talk to her before he leaves

- I'd love some Jean and Neil friendship

- some form of Kevin, Andrew, Neil hanging out at Abby's because of the snippet we got of Jean watching Neil and Andrew. Maybe they take him to California (or Renee but I feel like Kevin might be insistent on taking him)

- So. Much. Kevin. Angst. Jean either never wants to talk to him again or calls him all the time because he is so lost and has no idea how to function as his own person

- I want him to have his own room where he can lock the door

- Jean having major conflict over being bi because of the nest in general but mainly because of his sexual assault

- Jean goes to Renee's for holiday break

#aftg #tsc #the sunshine court #all for the game #jean moreau #jeremy knox #andrew minyard #neil josten #kevin day #ed mention #the tree talks

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I do wonder where Harry got the ‘co-reigning’ thing in his head, his goto approach is to weasel round those who he can charm to get what he wants. There is no way The Queen or now the King would have pandered to his unreasonable wishes, but both of them don’t like confrontation and through family love wouldn’t have totally squashed his ramblings or worse case ignored it and he would have taken that as viable. Plus he does/did believe the most popular royal other than the Queen’ stuff and probably still does or thinks it’s retrievable. When MM came on the scene we have the ‘you do the UK’ and we will take the commonwealth (re the commonwealth flowers veil) , and the idea of sharing the Duchy of Cornwall money. To any normal person it’s completely pie in the sky, but with these two such a high level arrogance/self esteem and people not ever really saying no to either of them has created a utopian ‘fair world’ where everything is ‘equal’ and they get what they want eventually.

Ancedotally it's because of Diana. She insisted on raising William and Harry equally, which the BRF (largely the Queen Mother) opposed. So because of that, any opportunity William received, Harry also received. Which, fair, makes sense. Two kids, send them to the same places, make life easy for yourself, right? Especially if you're separated/divorced from your partner, treating the boys as a single unit/a pair made it easier to track custody and other arrangements.

Then when Diana died, Charles probably figured it was easier to keep William and Harry together so they could help each other through their grief and shared trauma. (And also Charles most likely had his own trauma from Gordonstoun that made him unable to see how terribly misfitted Harry was at Eton, which most likely played a part in it too.) And that became the new royal brand: "Diana's boys, William and Harry." So much so that when Charles began to develop the vision for his monarchy, it was "William and Harry and their wives."

Now granted, it's hard to plan roles for people who don't yet exist, but the wives never needed to exist for the plan to work. All Charles and the BRF needed to do was say "William and his wife and Harry and his wife." Instead, their scheme was a scheme of three: William, Harry, and Wives - copying the scheme of Charles, Andrew, and Diana+Sarah.

So essentially, Harry grew up and spent his formative years being treated as equal to William. Then when William married Kate, they became "We Three" (or whatever cutesy little nickname you like) instead of spinning William and Kate off to do their own thing, which paved the way to Fab Four and Harry's rude awakening that "no, actually, you're not equal to William, you're not even William's consort, no matter how hard you try."

The what-if of it all is what would've happened if Diana hadn't died in 1997. Diana understood, fundamentally, that the boys had different futures because she always talked about William being King. She may have wanted them to have the same childhoods so the self-esteem issues and the insecurity Diana felt growing up weren't likely to happen for Harry. But at what age would she have encouraged Harry to make his own path and go his own way from William?

#ask #brf

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 28

PREVIOUS

FF does not like being on pain medication.

Everything feels floaty and it is so hard to focus on anything around him.

He’s almost glad that his Gran has given him something to focus on that something being helping her sell her lie to the Foxes that she only knows Polish. Coach Wymack must know but the man is a steel trap and FF finds himself envying his Gran that HER secret keeper is Coach Wymack.

“Smithy! My sweet beautiful idiot!” Nicky cries when Gran gives Wymack the OK for them to come back in. FF finds himself on the receiving end of 2 forehead kisses and a kiss to each of his cheeks from Nicky. “Next time you see a crazy mafia hitman looking to kidnap me you just grab me and RUN.” He orders pointedly, “No more cool guy shit where you take ‘em out in the weird sex alley.” He runs his fingers through FF’s hair and…

Yeah it’s okay that Nicky is the one that knows.

Nicky is so nice.

“What about Aaron?” FF asks.

“If Romero could grab Aaron when he is in whacky inflatable tube mode then I don’t think he’d be taken out by you and Andrew.” Nicky says with a watery smile.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is offended.

“Learn to dance at a club already. We’ve been going for years.” Nicky shoots back but never takes his eyes off of FF’s face.

“I dance just fine. I’m better than Kevin.” Aaron argues.

“Hey.” Kevin’s voice is offended.

“You are better than Kevin, but that’s not a real standard of good.” Nicky dismisses, “Regardless, next time grab me and I’ll grab Aaron and the three of us can hide literally anywhere other than the weird sex alley. We could go to the back room with Roland or, if it means you not ending up in the hospital with a stab wound, I would even tolerate hiding down in the straight swingers club in the basement.” Nicky says.

He sees Andrew and Captain Neil tense off to the side.

Oh, that’s right.

Oh fun another lie for him to focus on instead of feeling floaty. Gran always talked about the virtue of telling the truth but the only thing set free would be Nicky in a club that he’s not supposed to know about.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you Nicky.” FF says instead.

Nicky laughs and kisses his cheek one more time. “You’re my favorite family member now. Sorry Aaron, you’ve made me endure the horrors of a heterosexual relationship for too long.” Nicky says stroking  FF’s face as he looks up to where FF assumes Aaron is.

“Hey.” Aaron says in the exact same way he said earlier.

“Andrew-“ Nicky starts but is cut off.

“I don’t care.”

“That’s the spirit.” Nicky says, “Neil-“

“Nicky, I also don’t care.”

“At least you have one another to support each other.”

“Wait, what about me?” Kevin asks.

“You won’t even LEARN the family language Kevin, you were NEVER in the running for my favorite.” Nicky dismisses and doesn’t bother to turn back to the  “So Smithy is my favorite family member now with Aras coming in second.”

Two things strike FF in the wake of family conversation.

First, when in the world did Kevin get here? Why is he here? Is he going to ask the doctors to run tests on FF to figure out stealth mode?

Second, Nicky just used his Gran’s nickname. The nickname that causes FF no small amount of embarrassment. It was a youthful indiscretion! He had thought he understood Lithuanian quite well! He had wanted to impress his Great Gran and his Gran with his knowledge.

“You’re looking pale Smith, do you need more pain medication?” Captain Neil asks.

“No, I’m fine.” He is pretty sure that pain meds can’t numb the psychological pain of his friends hearing about his youthful mistakes and he doesn’t care how bad his stomach is going to hurt he wants to only take the absolute minimum amount of pain meds required to get through this so he can stop floating.

Having friends nearby makes it so much easier.

Conversations go on with him and around him. He’s tired still from everything and when a nurse comes in to try and give him more pain medication he declines. All present in the room except Gran try to convince him to take it but he declines all but the most minor amount to take the edge off.

He finally realizes that Kevin had not been with them and asks why the hell he’s here. He gets an answer that makes him reconsider being on any pain medication at all because it doesn’t really make any sense. Why in the world is Kevin telling him not to trust the nutritionist?

Neil lets him know that the FBI are going to be coming around at some point to talk to him. He says that Agent Browning is a dick but generally fine and that there will be a local agent Iruma Matsumoto stopping by before him, probably today. He looks right at Andrew and says “Yeah, I’ll talk with them about how Romero stabbed me.” Andrew lets out an amused puff of laughter that makes FF feel like he might be doing alright at this friendship thing.

He apologizes to Andrew that he can’t make the pie today and gets a flick to his ear.

He finds out that he slept through all of Saturday and that it is Sunday morning. Finds out that his Gran and Wymack had stayed over at the Columbia house last night and that Wymack has him excused from his classes this week. He also finds out that Nicky has given his grandma a key to the house in Columbia so she could stay there while she’s visiting him.

He apologizes to Nicky for messing up the clothes he’d let him borrow and earns another flick to the ear from Nicky.

Wymack hands him a new phone that Nicky has apparently set up for him. His lip quirks up slightly when he sees that Nicky registered it as ’Smithy’s phone’. Neil shows him some stuff since he has the same phone model but Andrew rolls his eyes.

“You’ve barely figured out how to set anything on your phone Junkie. You still haven’t even set a screen lock.” He says as he pulls Neil back from FF’s space.

“I’ve figured out how to change the notification ping.” Neil argues but lets himself be pulled away and if Andrew keeps his arm around Neil afterwards? No one comments on that.

He translates things for his Gran when it seems important for her to be able to respond to and helps Nicky with some pronunciations.

He falls asleep a couple times and wakes up to his friends and teammates in all sorts of different configurations. Nicky gets him some good sugar-free Jell-O from the nurses while Aaron smacks Kevin upside the head when Kevin complains that it’s not good for him and not part of the diet he’s making to get FF back on the Court ASAP. “He’s gotta be on a clear liquid diet for 24 hours after his surgery.” Aaron hisses.

“Why does it have to be clear? I can put it in a blender but it won’t be clear.” Kevin grumbles.

“He’s not going to be on puree’d food for at least two weeks idiot.” Aaron smacks his head again.

“Stop that.”

He hears from Wymack the other Freshman Dealer won’t be returning and that Sheena is now their only Dealer and she does not do defense well. Kevin’s disapproval for the Jell-O cups only grows stronger in light of this news. His grumbling only stops when Gran looks at him and says “Maybe someone should help you pull that stick out of your ass young man.” In her nicest most grandmotherly voice.

When Kevin turns to FF for a translation Nicky beats him to it, “She said a handsome young man like you shouldn’t ruin your face with worries.” He says without a hint that he’s lying.

Kevin preens at the grandmotherly approval of his looks and FF gets to know that he, Nicky and his grandma all have lying in common.

Eventually it’s lunch time and the natural hunger of college athlete boys trumps anything else. Kevin won’t eat anything at the cafeteria since he doesn’t trust the nutritionist so they agree to head out of the hospital to grab food. He’s more tired than hungry so he tells his Gran to go with them. She pats his face and promises she’ll be back with some clear soup for him per the Doctor’s order and despite Kevin’s grumbling that he could make a clear protein shake.

His Gran kisses his forehead and tells him that she’ll be back soon and that he should rest as much as he can.

***

FF can’t sleep.

He tried.

He really did.

But without the noise of everyone else his mind keeps going back to the last time he was in a hospital. He closes his eyes and he can see Gran’s pale face when she tells him that his dad didn’t make it and the tears when she tells him neither-

He can’t sleep.

So he gets up against medical advice and decides to go on a walk. He’s not been connected to any of the monitoring equipment since he had first woken up, just the IV keeping him hydrated. FF decides he wants to get his dad’s leather back because it would make him feel better. The leather jacket has weight that would keep his feet strictly on the ground and it’s something his Gran had given to him when he went off to college so that he could keep his dad close. He could call a nurse but it feels like he shouldn’t distract them with something as stupid as getting him his dad’s jacket so he doesn’t have a panic attack.

So he lets himself slip into the background and heads towards the nurse station. He thinks that might be where they’re holding his belongings. It’s a good first stop if nothing else.

He can’t help but notice a strange number of men in suits but figures that maybe they’re just there to talk to people who seem to have gotten caught up in some sort of mass casualty incident.

He makes it to the nurse station and when a whole 5 minutes goes by without a single nurse clocking that he exists he considers speaking up until he sees a nurse bagging up some clothes, slapping on a label, and heading away.

It’s nice when things work out for him.

Another suit wearing man comes up and a different nurse sees him there immediately and comes up, “What can I help you with?” She asks.

“I’m looking for someone with the last name Smith, he has a stab wound?” The man asks.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” The nurse responds with exasperation but FF is already almost out of earshot when he hears it because he’s following the nurse with the bag.

He follows her down the hallway and she thankfully takes an elevator instead of going down the stairs because FF doesn’t know how he would have gotten his IV stand down with him.

FF walks in with her and he watches her slump as the doors slide close. Relaxing like most people do when they think they’re alone. Her shoulders go straight back when the elevator opens again and he follows after her.

He follows her to a door that she unlocks and proceeds to enter and FF sees a room full of the same bags with belongs all tagged with a last name and a room number. “Christ, why are there so many fucking Smiths in here right now?” She grumbles but takes him straight to the S section and he sees his own ‘Smith’ and room number.

He grabs it and heads out the door before the nurse and heads into the elevator.

His phone pings with a text message. He opens it and sees a text from an unknown number.

“Come to the Cafeteria. - IM”

FF stares at his phone for a few minutes before the initials click.

Iruma Matsumoto, the local FBI agent who was coming to talk to him today according to Captain Neil. It’s weird to be texted like this but this is the first time he’s ever had to talk to the FBI. Maybe it’s normal? He doesn’t really want to bother Captain Neil about what getting interrogated by the FBI is like since Captain Neil is out at lunch.

He decides to go to the Cafeteria.

FF follows the directory in the elevator and then the arrows that point him towards the cafeteria. He takes a moment to pull his dad’s jacket out and it does help him feel better. He realizes the McDonald’s toy is still in his pocket and thinks that he really should probably turn that over to Agent Matsumoto.

When he gets to the cafeteria he sees even more of those guys in suits and then he sees a well dressed Japanese man sitting by himself at a table. FF has a moment where he thinks ‘Wow that FBI agent sure does look like a member of the Yakuza.’ Before he squashes it because ‘OMG that’s such a fucking racist thing to think. Thoughts from the abyss are the worst and Agent Matsumoto is probably a perfectly nice guy.’

He takes a seat in front of the man who is surrounded by two other of the men in black he’s seen. Oh that guy was probably looking for him to bring him here so they could have the talk.

None of the men seem to notice him and FF realizes that he’s still in stealth mode. He sets the bag with the rest of his clothes to the side and clears his throat.

Three sets of eyes are on him immediately and FF breathes through the anxiety as the two men at either side of Agent Matsumoto seem to reach for something at their holsters.

“Captain Neil said you wanted to talk to me.” He says.

Captain Matsumoto raises a hand and the two men on either side of him return to an at ease position.

***

Ichirou Moriyama could admit to himself that he had been startled when a young man seemingly appeared out of nowhere in front of him without any warning. He sees a bulge in the man’s pocket that says that he’s armed and he could have done anything before bringing attention to himself. He had men throughout the hospital and no one has spotted Wesninski or any of his cohorts but they had their eyes peeled for the uninvolved civilian who had taken out Jackson on his own and had assisted Wesninski’s guard dog in taking out Romero.

Interesting.

Ichirou clasps his hands together in over the cafeteria table.

“Yes, let’s talk.” He agrees.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​ @chalilodimun​ @insectsgetcooked​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​ @themundanemudperson​ @readertodeath​ @apileofpillows​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​ @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupandfries​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​ @lesbian-blackbeard​ @lesbiansupernatural​ @silvermasquerade​ @thepeachfuzz​ @minniemariex​ @kazoo-the-demjin​ @gaypomegranate​ @ji-nk-ies​ @neilimfinejosten​ @omgrubelangel​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​ @percabethotplove​ @cozyrosykay​ @foxyatlas​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @cindersapsecrets​

The  requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few  different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I  promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be  something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

If you didn’t get notified on the last part it’s probably because I used tumblr mobile to post and our most beloved garbage fire site just didn’t like that.

#Fluent Freshman AU #Guess who accidentally took FF's phone? #It's Neil #He realizes it halfway through the grocery store run #Sorry FF your grandma is now the Monster Grandma #She's got knitting projects planned for each of them #She's already asked about allergies #She jokingly tells Nicky she'll knit Kevin a muzzle because he's commented on the amount of butter she uses four times #He always shuts up when he eats it at least #Neil is blissfully unaware that he has FF's phone and FF has his #Some poor Moriyama grunts are wandering through the hospital having to check every single Smith room for the one they're looking for #Ichirou was planning some mild intimidation shit on Neil #But was hampered because JFC why so many Smiths #Does Ichirou know Smith's first name? #Perhaps #Does he use it? #Probably not #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #FF - Pt. 28