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☆ I write for george clarke, arthur frederick, arthur hill, chris dixon, harry lewis, will lenney, james marriott, alfie buttle and steve harrington!
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summary: Welcome back to Camp! The first meeting is underway before all the campers return, and some friends start to scheme | Arthur x fem!reader
notes: ok so this fic series got me out of a slump and I love it. I've read a couple fics from other fandoms with a counsellor!au so i've defo taken inspo from them somewhere in the back of my head. Also imagine they're all like 20/21. ok hope you enjoy!
content: 2.5k wc, summer camp!au, rivalry, multiple pov's, arguments, friends planning behind your backs, a bit of angst I guess and lots of kids
series masterlist!
The gravel crunched under the tyres as you pulled into the familiar car park of Camp Nowhere, and despite the sunshine streaming through your windshield, you felt that old knot form in your stomach. A whole year away hadn’t been enough to forget. It never was.
You could see Flo’s car already parked near the main lodge, and relief flooded through you. At least you’d have backup.
The air smelled like pine needles and lake water – the scent of every summer since you were twelve. You’d grown up here, first as a camper, then a counsellor in training, and now, for the third year running, as a full counsellor. Camp nowhere was home in a way your actual house never quite managed to be.
Except for one very significant problem.
“Reader! Oh my god, finally!” Flo came barrelling down the lodge steps, her ginger curls bouncing as she threw her arms around you. “I’ve been here for twenty minutes and Liv’s already inside setting up the activity board with Bach. Save me from being the third wheel before the summer even starts.”
You laughed, squeezing her back. “Wouldn’t dream of leaving you to suffer alone.”
“Plus,” Flo lowered her voice conspiratorially as she helped you grab your duffel from the trunk, “he’s already here.”
Your stomach dropped. “It’s been five minutes, Flo.”
“Arthur arrived at eight-thirty sharp, because of course he did. He’s probably already colour-coded his cabin assignments and laminated the safety procedures.” Flo rolled her eyes, but there was affection there, too. Despite everything, your friends loved Arthur. They loved both of you.
They just hated that you hated each other.
“Let me guess,” you said, shouldering your bag. “He’s already cornered the head counsellor about ‘improvements’ to the schedule.”
“Bingo. Though to be fair, George is taking bets on how long it takes before your first argument of the summer. Hill put money on before lunch.”
“That’s insulting. We can definitely make it to at least twelve-thirty.”
Flo snorted. “That’s the spirit.”
Arthur had arrived at Camp Nowhere at precisely eight-thirty, which gave him a full ninety minutes before the mandatory counsellor meeting to inspect his cabin, review the updated safety protocols, and prepare his welcome packets for his campers.
Some people – one person in particular – might call this overkill.
Arthur called it being prepared.
His cabin was in decent shape, all things considered. Same wooden bunks, same slightly musty smell that would fade once he got the windows open and aired it out, same view of the lake through the trees. He’d already mentally mapped out where everyone would sleep, which campers would need the bottom bunks, and who should be separated for optimal focus during quiet hours.
“Mate, you’re doing it again.”
Arthur turned to find George leaning against the doorframe, looking annoyingly relaxed in a Camp Nowhere t-shirt that had definitely seen better days.
“What?”
“The thing where you plan everything down to the minute and forget that these are children who will immediately throw all your plans into chaos.” George stepped inside, glancing around. “Looks good though. Very… Arthur”
“Is that meant to be a compliment?”
“It’s an observation.” George’s grin then turned wicked. “Speaking of observations, Reader’s car just pulled in.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened reflexively. “Good for Reader.”
“Oh, come on. Are you really going to do this again? Another whole summer of the two of you acting like you’re in some kind of cold war?”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m going to run my cabin, do my job, and make sure my campers have a good summer. What Reader does is none of my concern.”
George looked like he wanted to say more, but Arthur Hill appeared behind him, knocking on the doorframe. “Meetings in ten. And before you ask, yes, she’s here, and no, you can’t sit on opposite sides of the room because it’s not that big.”
Arthur didn’t dignify that with a response.
The mess hall looked exactly the same as it did every summer: long wooden tables, faded camp banners on the walls, the smell of industrial coffee brewing in the kitchen. You slid into a seat between Flo and Liv, accepting the mug Liv pushed toward you gratefully.
“Bless you.”
“You’ll need it,” Liv said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “This is going to be entertaining.”
“What’s going to be entertaining?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that Arthur’s already submitted a three-page proposal for ‘schedule optimisation’ and you haven’t even sat down yet.”
You groaned. “It’s been ten minutes.”
“Eleven,” Bach corrected, sliding into the seat across from you and immediately reaching for Liv’s hand. They were sickeningly cute, even after all these years. “But who’s counting?”
“Arthur, probably,” you muttered into your coffee.
As if you summoned him, Arthur walked in with Hill and George, and you hated -absolutely hated – that your eyes went to him immediately. He looked frustratingly good, as always. Tall, put-together even in casual camp clothes, hair slightly mussed like he’d been running his hands through it. Which he probably had been, because Arthur stressed about everything.
His eyes found yours across the room for a fraction of a second before you both looked away.
“Subtle,” Flo whispered.
“Shut up.”
The head counsellor, Margaret, called the meeting to order before you could elbow Flo in the ribs. Margaret had been running Camp Nowhere for fifteen years, and she had the kind of no-nonsense energy that made even the most chaotic counsellors fall in line.
“Welcome back, everyone. Let’s make this quick so you can all get to your cabins before the campers arrive at noon.” Margaret launched into the usual announcements – safety checks, schedule changes, the reminder about the strict no-fraternisation policy between counsellors that made Bach and Liv exchange guilty looks.
Of course. The same cabins as last year. The same cabins that always ended up in competition with each other because your campers fed off the energy between you and Arthur like it was a sport.
“Now,” Margaret continued, “I want to talk about the activity schedule. We’re trying something new this year – more collaborations between cabins, more joint activities.”
You felt Arthur’s attention sharpen from across the room.
“With all due respect,” Arthur said, and you knew immediately where this was going, “the schedule worked well last year. The campers thrived on structure and routine. Changing things up could be disruptive for most of the kids who are returning from previous years.”
“With all due respect,” you countered, unable to help yourself, “the campers also thrived when we gave them flexibility and let them choose their activities. Structure’s great, but so is spontaneity.”
Arthur’s gaze snapped to yours, and there it was – that familiar spark of irritation. “Spontaneity is just another word for lack of planning.”
“And over-planning is just another word for control issues.”
“I don’t have control issues-”
“You colour-code your socks.”
“That’s called organisation-”
“Alright!” Margaret’s voice cut through the room like a knife, and you realised the entire table had gone silent, watching you and Arthur like this was dinner theatre. You definitely saw George slip Hill a tenner. “This is exactly why we’re doing more joint activities. You two need to learn to work together.”
Your stomach sank.
Arthur looked like he’d just been sentenced to death.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” George muttered, not quite under his breath.
Margaret ignored him. “Arthur, Reader, you’ll be co-leading the overnight camping trip in two weeks. Consider it a team-building exercise.”
“Margaret-” you started.
“Non-negotiable. Meeting adjourned.”
Arthur was going to strangle George.
Not literally, of course. That would be against camp policy and also illegal. But the thought was comforting as he stalked back to his cabin, George and Arthur trailing behind him like particularly annoying shadows.
“Co-leading,” Arthur muttered. “With Reader. For an overnight trip.”
“Look on the bright side,” Hill offered. “At least it’s only one night?”
“There is no bright side. She doesn’t follow protocols, doesn’t stick to schedules, and actively encourages chaos.”
“Reader’s campers love her,” George pointed out. “Just like yours love you. Maybe that’s the point.”
Arthur didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to acknowledge that you were good at this job, that the campers did love you, that maybe there was more than one way to be a good counsellor.
It was easier to focus on the rivalry. On the incident, all those years ago, when everything had gone wrong, and you had-
No. He wasn’t going down that road. Not today.
“Just… help me set up my cabin, please,” Arthur said finally. “The campers will be here soon.”
By noon, the car park was chaos.
You stood near the main lodge with your clip board, watching as cars pulled in and parents unloaded kids and duffel bags and sleeping bags. Returning campers were already sprinting towards friends, shouting greetings at counsellors.
“Reader!” A girl with braids - Emma, one of your campers from last year – came barrelling toward you. “Please tell me I’m in your cabin again!”
“Emma! Good to see you!” You checked your list. “You’re in luck. Cabin Four, bunk three.”
Emma pumped her fist. “Yes! Maya, we’re in Cabin Four!”
Another girl – Maya, new last year – grinned. “Thank God. I heard Cabin Seven is like military school.”
“Hey now,” you said, trying not to laugh. “Arthur runs a great cabin.”
“Yeah, if you like schedules and rules,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “No offence, but I’ll take your cabin any day.”
They ran off toward the cabin, and you couldn’t help but smile. This was why you did this job. Not for the rivalry, not for the competition – but for the kids who came back year after year because camp meant something to them.
“Reader’s cabin is the best!”
You turned to see a cluster of campers near the lodge – some new, some returning. A boy you recognised, Jake, was in the middle of what looked like a heated debate.
“Are you kidding?” another boy argued. “Arthur’s cabin won the camp cup last year. He’s the best.”
“That’s because Arthur’s boring and makes everyone follow the rules,” Jake shot back. “Reader’s cabin actually has fun.”
“Arthur’s cabin has fun! We just also win things!”
“Okay, okay,” you intervened, stepping in before this turned into a full-scale argument. “How about we let the new campers decide for themselves? Both cabins are great.”
“But yours is better,” Jake said loyally.
You bit back a smile. “Go get settled in, Jake.”
As the campers dispersed, you caught sight of Arthur across the lawn, surrounded by his own group of kids. He was explaining something, gesturing toward the lake, and even from here, you could see the way his campers hung on his every word.
Damn him for being good at this.
“They’re like mini versions of you two,” Liv said, appearing at your side. “It’s kind of adorable.”
“It’s kind of a problem.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a problem.” Liv’s smile was sly. “But maybe not the problem you think It is.”
Before you could ask what that meant, Flo called your name from your cabin, and you jogged over to help with the unpacking.
By the time the sun started to set and the campers were at dinner, Arthur was exhausted.
Not from the work – he thrived on the structure of camp, the routines, the schedules. But from the constant awareness of you across the camp, laughing with your campers, bending rules just enough to make things interesting, being everything Arthur wasn’t.
“You’re brooding,” Hill said, sliding into the seat next to him at the counsellor’s table.
“I’m not brooding.”
“You’re definitely brooding. You’ve been glaring at your pasta for five minutes.”
Arthur stabbed a piece of penne with more force than necessary. “I’m thinking.”
“About Reader?”
“About the camping trip and how it’s going to be a disaster.”
Hill exchanged a look with George across the table, and Arthur caught it.
“What?”
“Nothing,” George said innocently. “Just… maybe it won’t be a disaster. Maybe it’ll be good for you two to actually work together for once.”
“We don’t work together well.”
“Have you ever actually tried?” Liv asked, leaning forward. Bach’s arm was around her shoulders, and they both had that same knowing look that Arthur was really starting to hate.
“Yes. Years ago. It ended badly.”
“The incident wasn’t your fault,” Flo said quietly. “It wasn’t her fault either.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t see it that way.”
“Maybe,” Liv said carefully, “you should ask her about that.”
Before Arthur could respond, Margaret stood up to make the evening announcement, and the conversation died.
But as Arthur glanced across the mess hall and caught your eye for the second time that day, he wondered if maybe his friends had a point.
Then you looked away, and Arthur remembered exactly why this summer was going to be a nightmare.
Later that night, after the campers were asleep and the counsellors had retreated to their own cabins, you sat on the porch with Flo and Liv, listening to the crickets and the distant sound of the lake.
“So,” Liv said casually, “How long do you think you can avoid Arthur this summer?”
“I’m not avoiding him. We just… exist in separate spaces.”
“You’re co-leading a camping trip in two weeks.”
You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Don’t remind me.”
“Maybe it’ll be good,” Flo offered. “Maybe you’ll finally talk about what actually happened.”
“We both know what happened.”
“Do you though?” Liv’s voice was gentle. “Because from where we’re sitting, it looks like you’ve both been blaming each other for years over something that maybe wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
You didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to consider that maybe you’d been wrong, that maybe Arthur had been wrong, that maybe you’d wasted years on a rivalry that didn’t need to exist.
“It’s easier this way,” you said finally.
“Easier doesn’t mean better,” Flo said.
Before you could respond, you heard voices from the path – Bach, George and both Arthurs heading back to their cabins.
“Goodnight, ladies,” Bach called, blowing a kiss to Liv.
“Night,” you all chorused back, and you tried not to notice the way Arthur’s gaze lingered on you for just a moment before he disappeared into the darkness.
In Cabin Nine, Bach waited until Arthur had left to do his final checks before he spoke.
“So,” he said casually, “we’re all in agreement, right?”
“About what?” Hill asked, though his grin suggested he knew exactly what.
“About the fact that we need to do something about those two.”
George sat up on his bunk. “I’m listening.”
“They’re miserable,” Bach continued. “They’ve been miserable for years. And we’ve all just… let it happen.”
“What are you suggesting?” Arthur asked.
Bach’s smile was wicked. “I’m suggesting we help them out. Whether they like it or not.”
In Cabin Six, Liv was having the exact same conversation.
“We have two weeks before the camping trip,” she said. Two weeks to make them realise they don’t actually hate each other.”
“And how exactly do we do that?” Flo asked.
Liv’s grin matched her boyfriend’s. “We get creative.”
Welcome to Camp Nowhere!
You've spent every summer here with your friends since you were twelve, first as a camper, now as a counsellor. The only issue? Your long-term rivalry with Arthur since 'the incident' four years ago. Your friends are finally fed up with the arguments between you two and scheme to end it once and for all.
Will the strict no fraternisation policy between counsellors get you in trouble or ultimately save your relationship?
contains: summer camp!au, rivalry and competition, fluff, angst, miscommunication??
hi so recently i’ve had a bit of writers block and that’s why i haven’t really posted anything for nearly two weeks which i know isn’t a very long time but it is to me. but nothing i was writing seemed to be good to me or i wasn’t enjoying writing it but ive come up with a plan for a new series which ive nearly written the first chapter just today and im having so much fun with it so im gonna post it tomorrow! i know ive got a few series going rn so im sorry about posting a new one as well but i hope you like it! its rlly gotten me out of a slump!!
sorry guys been slacking lately i was planning on doing some writing today but then was soooo hungover i literally slept most of the day but ill try my best to get something out in the next few days whether its the next part of how to lose a guy or a little standalone thing love u lots <333
i freaking LOVE all of ur smutty will standalones🥹🥹 i was wondering if u could dabble in sub will😈😈
thank you so much nonnie!! i was thinking about dabbling in some sub will tbh…. anything particular you were thinking about? trust when i’ve got some time off work this weekend im gonna lock in on some writing
Truly and I mean this genuinely, your work is amazing!! I just finished reading sweet tooth along with a few others, and I could immediately tell your overall attention to detail and the way you describe things were beautiful.
It's weirdly pretty hard to find a fic that has a really good plot while also maintaining proper capitalization and all that jazz throughout it. So thank you for that!!
(This is also coming from someone whos studying to hopefully attend culinary school soon, so l guess I might be a little biased I guess Imao) -🍒
oh my god 🍒, you’re gonna make me cry 😭. this means so much especially when i do put a lot of effort into my fics when ive got other stuff going on in my life. i’m glad you liked sweet tooth it is one of my faves in the after service series and i promise it will be finished soon! and that’s so exciting you’re hopefully going to culinary school!!! i’ve just finished my studies and the three years of my course were the best, good luck with getting in! <333
i was working 12 - 10 today and my work showed the football games today and when the arsenal game was on and everyone was cheering i was just thinking about how chris and arthur are probably cheering about it too… am i cooked chat?
summary: harry makes a bet and takes you to dinner | Harry x fem!reader
notes: part 4 to how to lose a guy! harry enters finally! the next one will be pretty long so look out for it soon!
content: making a bet, drinking, the first of the duping, fluff
series masterlist!
Harry was having a good night.
The party was better than he’d expected – good music, decent drinks, and enough familiar faces that he didn’t feel like he had to work too hard at being social. He’d been chatting with Ethan and Josh for the past twenty minutes, mostly taking the piss out of each other in the way they always did.
“I’m just saying,” Ethan said, gesturing with his beer, “you’re nearly thirty, mate. When’s the last time you were in an actual relationship?”
“I’ve been in relationships,” Harry said defensively.
“I said actual relationships,” Ethan clarified. “Not just shagging someone for a few weeks and then ghosting them.”
“I don’t ghost people,” Harry protested.
“You do,” Josh said, grinning.
“Name one time,” Harry challenged.
“Sarah,” Ethan said immediately.
“That was different-”
“Emma.”
“She ghosted me first-”
“That girl from the club last month whose name you can’t remember.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Harry admitted.
The guys laughed, and Harry shook his head, taking a drink. He knew they were just winding him up, but there was a kernel of truth to it. He hadn’t been in a serious relationship in… god, years, probably. It wasn’t that he didn’t want one, exactly. It was just that he was busy, and dating was complicated, and most of the time it was easier to just not bother.
“I’m just saying,” Ethan continued. “you’re losing your touch, haz. Time was, you could pull anyone in this room. Now? I’m not so sure.”
“Fuck off,” Harry said, but he was smiling. “I could absolutely still pull anyone in this room.”
“Prove it,” Josh said.
“What?”
“Prove it,” Josh repeated, his grin widening. “We’ll pick someone. Anyone here. If you can get them to fall for you, we’ll… I don’t know, pay for the entire trip to the World Cup final?”
“Wait, really?” Harry said incredulously.
“Sure”, Ethan said. “Not like you’re going to win.”
Harry scoffed, “This is gonna be too easy, anyone would be crazy not to-”
“But,” Josh cut him off. “You have to get them to fall in love with you by that awards thing.”
“But that’s only ten days away,” Harry argued.
“Well, if you’re so good, then that won’t be a problem, will it?’
Harry considered it. It was a stupid bet, and he’d been backed into a corner. There was no way he could do it in ten days. But there was something appealing about it anyway – the challenge, the game of it.
“Alright,” he said. “You’re on.”
“Brilliant,” Josh said, already scanning the room. “Let’s see… what about her?”
He nodded toward a girl near the DJ booth. Pretty, but Harry wasn’t interested/
“Nah,” he said.
“Her?” Ethan suggested pointing to someone else.
“Too young,” Harry said.
“You’re so picky,” Josh said. “And anyway, we’re the ones picking for you, remember?”
“I’m selective,” Harry corrected.
“Okay. Her.” Ethan said, and something in his tone made Harry look up.
He followed Ethan’s gaze across the room, and-
Oh.
She was standing near the windows with two other girls, holding a drink and laughing at something one of them had said. She was wearing a black dress that was simple but somehow incredibly effective, and even from this distance, Harry could tell she was gorgeous.
“Her,” Ethan said definitively. “That’s your target.”
Harry watched her for a moment longer. She was looking around the room now, her expression thoughtful, like she was searching for something. Or someone.
And then for just a second, her eyes landed on him.
Harry felt something shift in his chest – a spark of interest, maybe, or just the thrill of the challenge.
“Alright,” he said. “Her.”
“Excellent choice,” Josh said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go get her, tiger.”
“Don’t call me tiger,” Harry said, but he was already moving.
You were trying very hard to look like you weren’t watching Harry.
After agreeing to your friends’ insane plan, you’d positioned yourself near the bar, nursing your drink and doing your best to appear casual. Lauren and Mara had retreated to a nearby table, giving you space but staying close enough to watch the show.
Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this.
Harry was across the room with his friends, but you could feel his attention shifting. You’d caught him looking at you a few times, and each time, you’d made sure to look away just quickly enough to seem uninterested but not so quickly it looked suspicious.
You were playing a game, and you were good at it.
“You look like you’re plotting something,” a voice said from beside you.
You turned, and there he was.
Harry Lewis. Up close. Smiling at you like you were the most interesting person in the room.
Your stomach did a complicated flip – part anger, part nerves, and something else you didn’t want to think about too much.
“Do I?” you said, keeping your voice light. “I was just thinking about getting another drink.”
“Allow me,” Harry said, signalling to the bartender. “What are you having?”
“Rum and Coke,” you said.
“Classic,” he said approvingly. He ordered your drink and another beer for himself, then turned back to you. “I’m Harry.”
“I know who you are,” you said, and then immediately wanted to kick yourself. Too eager. You were supposed to be playing it cool.
But Harry just grinned. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”
“Depends,” you said. “Do you want me to be a fan or a stalker?”
“Is there a third option?”
“Sure,” you said. “Vaguely aware of you but not particularly invested.”
Harry laughed, “I think I like that one best.”
The bartender set your drinks down, and Harry handed you yours. Your fingers brushed for just a second, and you felt a jolt of something you refused to acknowledge.
“So,” Harry said, leaning against the bar. “If you’re only vaguely aware of me, does that mean I need to work harder to make an impression?”
“That depends,” you said. “Are you trying to make an impression?’
“Maybe,” he said. His eyes were very blue, you noticed. Annoyingly blue. “Is it working?”
You took a sip of your drink, looking at him over the rim of your glass. He was charming, you’d give him that. Confident without being arrogant, funny without trying too hard. If you didn’t know better - if you didn’t remember VidCon, didn’t remember the way he’d made you feel – you might actually like him.
But you did know better.
And the fact that he clearly didn’t recognise you, didn’t remember dismissing you three years ago like you were nothing – that made your blood boil.
“You’re doing alright,” you said finally.
“Just alright?” Harry said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offence. “I’m wounded.”
“I’m sure you’ll recover,” you said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I might need some encouragement. Maybe your name would help?”
You hesitated for just a second – long enough to let him think you were deciding whether he was worth it – then smiled.
“It’s Reader,” you said.
“Reader,” he repeated, like he was testing how it sounded. “I like it.”
“I’m glad I have your approval,” you said dryly.
“See, this is what I mean,” Harry said, grinning. “You’re funny. I like funny.”
“Good to know,” you said. “I’ll add it to my list of your preferences.”
“You’re making a list?”
“I’m a very organised person.”
“I’m learning so much about you already,” Harry said. “Organised, funny, vaguely aware of me/ What else should I know?”
You tilted your head, studying him. This was it – the moment where you could either shut him down or reel him in. And despite every instinct screaming at you to tell him to fuck off, despite the anger still simmering in your chest, you found yourself smiling.
“I guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you said.
Harry’s grin widened. “Is this an invitation?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll take it,” he said.
And just like that, he was hooked.
An hour later, you were sitting across from Harry at a small table in an upscale restaurant a few streets away from the party.
You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened. One minute you’d been trading banter at the bar, the next he was suggesting you get out of there and grab some food. You’d agreed before you get out of there and grab some food. You’d agreed before you could think better of it, and now here you were, reading a menu that didn’t list prices and trying to remember the plan.
But god, he was making it difficult.
“So,” Harry said, settling down his menu. “Tell me something real.”
“Real?” you repeated/
“Yeah,” he said. “Everyone at these parties always does the same small talk – what do you do, how many followers do you have, blah blah blah. I want to know something actually interesting.”
You considered him for a moment. He seemed genuine, his expression open and curious. It would be so easy to give him something real, to let your guard down just a little.
But you couldn’t afford to do that. Not yet.
“Alright,” you said, “Something real. I’m terrified of birds.”
Harry blinked. “Birds?”
“Birds,” you confirmed. “Especially pigeons. They’re basically flying rats.”
“That’s… not what I expected,” Harry said, but he was smiling.
“You said you wanted something real,” you said. “That’s real. Your turn.”
“Okay,” Harry said, thinking. “Something real. I’m scared of heights.”
“Really? Don’t you and your friends do crazy things involving heights sometimes for your videos?”
“Yes, and no one knows. It’s embarrassing. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” you said.
The waiter came by to take your orders, and the conversation flowed easily after that. Harry told you about a disastrous video shoot from last week, and you told him about the time you accidentally posted a video on your account of you falling flat on your face. He made you laugh – really laugh, the kind that made your cheeks hurt – and you found yourself relaxing despite yourself.
“So what made you want to start YouTube?” Harry asked at one point.
You hesitated. The real answer was complicated – something about wanting to be heard, wanting to create something that mattered, wanitng to prove that you could. But that felt too vulnerable, too honest for someone you were supposed to be manipulating.
“I liked the idea of making something that was mine,” you said finally. “Something I had complete control over.”
“I get that,” Harry said. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Being your own boss.”
“Most of the time,” you said, “Sometimes it’s terrifying.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”
There was something in his voice – a note of understanding, of shared experience – that made your chest tighten. You looked at him across the table, really looked at him, and for just a second, you forgot why you were here. Forgot about your first interation, forgot about the video, forgot about the plan.
For just a second, he was just Harry. And you were just you.
Then your phone buzzed with a text from Mara.
How’s it going???
Reality came crashing back.
Right. The plan.
You were supposed to be reeling him in, making him fall for you so you could spend the next ten days miserable. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
“You alright?” Harry asked, noticing your expression.
“Yeah,” you said quickly, putting your phone away. “Sorry. Just my friends being nosy.”
“About me?” Harry said, grinning.
“Maybe.” You said.
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” you said, but you were smiling.
By the time you finished dinner, it was nearly midnight. Harry insisted on paying – “I asked you out, didn’t I?” – and then walked you outside to wait for your Uber.
“I had a really good time tonight,” he said.
“Yeah,” you said, and you were surprised to realise you meant it. “Me too.”
“Can I see you again?” Harry asked. “Like maybe tomorrow?”
This was it. The moment when you sealed the deal.
“I’d like that,” you said.
“Brilliant,” he said. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” you said.
Your Uber pulled up, and you moved to get in, but Harry caught your hand.
“Hey,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad I talked to you tonight,” he said. “I almost didn’t but… I’m glad I did.”
Your heart did that flip again, and you hated it.
“Me too,” you said softly.
You got in the car and watched through the window as Harry waved, his smile still in place. As the car pulled away, you let out a long breath and pulled out your phone.
There were already a dozen texts from Lauren and Mara in your group chat.
Lauren: OMG HOW DID IT GO
Mara: did you get his number
Lauren: are you still with him
Lauren: omg did you go back to his place
Mara: omg you slut
Mara: ANSWER US
You typed out a quick response: mission accomplished. he’s officially hooked.
The replies came instantly.
Lauren: YES
Mara: I KNEW IT
Lauren: okay so when are you seeing him again
You stared at your phone, thinking about the way Harry had smiled at you, the way he’d listened when you talked, the way he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you.
Tomorrow, you’d start. Tomorrow, you’d become the nightmare girlfriend from hell. Tomorrow, you’d make him regret ever approaching you at that bar.
But tonight – just for tonight – you let yourself feel the smallest hint of guilt.
i’m still waiting for my working on it vinyl… arthur promised it would be sent out today so if it’s not he’s getting a very strongly worded email from me :(
thinking about house husband!chris after the newest video of him at hobbitton…..
imagine him being the sweetest domesticated lover ever! i’m talking like… all of the chores around the flat/house are done, the lunches are made for yourself and the kids (if you end up having kids), and overall chris just is completely devoted to you!
thinking about him cooking you the best evening meals after a long shift, writing little notes on your lunches to get you through the day, giving you a little kiss before you leave for work and when you walk back through the door after a long day at work….
thinking about him giving the best massages ever, really being able to get into the right spots which make you ever so relaxed and relieved… looking after you when you’re in the foulest of moods to the highest of care, all because he wants to fulfill his duty as a husband!
imagining him giving you whatever you want whenever you want it…. especially sexually. if you wanna pounce on him, he’ll let you! cause that’s what a loving husband does for his amazing wife! he’ll happily stay in between your thighs for as long as you want him to, eating you out until you’ve came an umpteenth amount of times on his tongue…..
but also he’ll share a bath with you, letting you jerk him off as he fingers you… because that’s what a martial partnership is about, right? doing things together? 🤭
diane yaps!: everyone say ty to chip for mentioning the house huzz discussion to chris xoxo
whichever one of you bitches or group of bitches has it out for ellie (who btw is one of the nicest fucking people ever) deserve the absolute worst in life. what the hell is wrong with you that you take time out of your day to report someone’s blog who puts time and effort into a silly harmless little hobby. if you’re butthurt that she responded to ur rude anon in kind then fuck off. i actually hate you and hope karma comes and fucks you over one day. get out of this community and don’t fucking come back no one wants you here.
