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#can just open a window and get some fresh air - but in this case there's literally nowhere to turn for fresh air
whateveriwant · 4 months
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Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc
This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright
Price
HA! Good one!
No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around
That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart
Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)
He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress
Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...
Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off
She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions
What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)
Ghost
When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so
You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants
But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on
You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.
The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move
You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love
His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise
But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?
Soap
If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap
From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas
You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine
Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)
You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!
For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle
But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?
Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some
Gaz
By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is
Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps
There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't
You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest
And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most
But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…
He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?
You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲
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bunmurdock · 2 months
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just working | matt murdock x f!reader
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summary: you’re trying to focus on work, but matt murdock has something else in mind. tags: softdom!matt, office sex, oral (f!receiving), piv, established relationship, (not-so) secret relationship, idiots in love. word count: 1.9k a/n: i wasn’t expecting to share a fic so soon after putting out the poll, but someone replied something lovely on one of my fics, and it really made my day and motivated me to put to paper a little fantasy i’ve had for a while. 😭
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“matt, we really shouldn’t be doing this here,” you whisper, giggling as you hide your face in his chest. you can feel his heart pounding as fast as yours, the thrill of the secret adding to the excitement.
“you started it,” he teases, his voice low and warm, the vibrations tickling your ear. you’re in his office, papers and files strewn across his desk with a half-spilled coffee on the floor, a testament to the workday that’s supposed to be happening. but right now, all that fades away. it’s just you and matt, alone in a bubble of your own making.
you look up at him. there’s a glimmer of mischief on his face, a challenge. “did not,” you retort playfully, trying to stifle another round of laughter. matt’s hand rests on your back, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to the moment.
“anyway,” you say, still fanning the half-dry coffee stain on your skirt. “seriously, matt, we need to focus.”
"i am focused,” he insists, the corner of his lip upturned in mischief. “focused on you.” he reaches out, pretending to adjust a nonexistent wrinkle on your shirt. the light touch sends a shiver through you, and you swat his hand away playfully.
"stop it,” you whisper, but with no real severity in your tone. matt just grins, undeterred.
"you know, you’re adorable when you’re trying to be serious,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and with an air of nonchalance. 
"i’m always serious,” you retort. 
he reaches for and grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap. he noses at your neck, the stubble of his chin teasing over your pulse point. his mouth opens to respond, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts you both into stillness. matt’s head beams up, listening, and in a second his quick reflexes have you both stepping apart, looking every bit the consummate professionals as the door opens.
“got some fresh leads on the dawson case…” foggy announces, stepping in. “ahem, am i interrupting something?” he asks, his gaze flickering between the two of you.
"no,” you and matt both reply, a little too quickly. foggy raises an eyebrow.
“right,” he says, drawing out the words with a hint of skepticism. “well, i just came to drop off these files.” he places a stack of papers on matt’s desk, his eyes lingering on the two of you a moment longer before coming to rest on the coffee cup on the ground.
"thanks, fog,” matt says, his tone casual, but you can sense a slight tension in his posture.
foggy sighs, shaking his head slightly. “you two are about as subtle as a brick through a window, you know that?” he says.
matt turns away to hide a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“foggy, we’re just working,” you reply, trying to sound convincing.
"sure, sure,” foggy says. “just remember, we’ve got a lot riding on this case. so don’t, uh—work—too much,” he says, with that, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.
as soon as the door clicks shut, you look at matt incredulously. “matt!” before you can chide him, he gets a goofy look on his face. 
“so, i uh, might have finished prepping this case last night.”
"you... wait, what?” you exclaim. the thought of him letting you ramble on while knowing the work was already done makes you shake your head. “and you let me go on about it all day?”
“guilty,” he admits. he stands up, reaching out his hand to you. “but i thought it might be nice to have an excuse to spend the day with you.” there’s something so pure and honest about his tone that it makes your heart flutter.
you shake your head but are unable to hide your smile. he holds a hand outstretched, nodding toward the exit.
you take matt’s hand, but right before you reach the door, he veers off course, pulling you into a small, rarely-used bathroom. he locks the door with a soft click, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
he picks you up with a soft grunt, sitting you on the bathroom island, hiking your skirt up until it bunches at your waist. he drops to face-level with your cunt and pulls your waist to the edge, nosing hungrily at your underwear.
“matt, are you su—” you begin, but then you stop. the small space amplifies your sound, each tiny breath and touch echoing off the walls. you instinctively cover your mouth.
as if a switch suddenly flipped in him, a low chuckle comes from between your legs, and it's him doing the chiding this time. “that’s right. wouldn’t want to get caught again, would we?” 
a rough finger pulls your underwear to the side and he playfully nips at your unsuspecting folds, then molds his lips around your clit and sucks. you whine into your own palm, your legs closing on instinct, but he holds them open, impossibly strong.
“mmphf— just a quick one before we get home,” he groans, arms snaking under your open legs to wrap around them like a vice. “c’mon, sweetheart, give me more,” he grunts against you, tapping your thigh twice with his hand. you’re not sure what he’s asking at first, but then he pinches your thigh, and you yelp. you grind into his face and he groans. you catch on, working up an erratic rhythm against his stubbled chin. it doesn’t take much for you to cum like this, his tongue suctioning torturously around your sensitive clit and darting into curl against your walls, eager for a taste.
it’s unrelenting. just like the rest of him.
after you come down from your climax, he helps you stand, holding out an arm for balance as you shakily step to your feet and let your underwear and skirt drop to the floor. he then drops his hand to his own aching erection, unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his slacks and boxers. you undo his dress shirt and pull it over his shoulder and down his arm, where they catch on the muscle of his biceps. 
cock freed, he shucks off his shirt, and helps you pull yours over your head, bra in tow. he pulls you near enough so that, for a moment, you’re chest-to-chest and you feel his cock pulses against your lower stomach. you’re about to lower yourself down, take him into your mouth, when he puts a hand on your waist, stilling you.
“spit on it,” he murmurs, voice impossibly low. his whole demeanor seems to have shifted in just moments, confined in a space that’s so filled with your intoxicating scent.
you comply, and watch your own spit dribble down onto his erect cock. he holds a hand under it, catching any spare saliva so he can work it over his cock.
“jesus,” he curses softly, and his other hand comes up cup your chin and thumb at your lips. for a moment, he just takes his cock and runs it across the supple skin of your stomach, the curves of your waist, then against the fat of your thighs, slapping it a few times, spreading the slick around. “you have no idea, do you? the things you do to me.”
you whine softly against the thumb at your lip. “matt, please.” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, but, as always, he knows exactly what you want.
“turn around,” he orders, and you waste no time. he nestles between your parted legs, spreading them further with his own and bending you over the counter, the head of his cock already pushing past your entrance. you gasp, pushing back but meeting resistance with his size.
“‘s alright. ha—’ he breathes. “we’re going to take care of you, kay,” he murmurs, hand guiding himself in slowly, the low timber of his voice sending shivers down your spine. he works an arm under you, and slowly bottoms out into you.
you hiss at the stretch, but before long, you’re bouncing in his lap, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the space. he’s bigger than you, and every thrust punches another guttural sound out of you. you gasp and writhe, trying to catch your breath and adjust to the stretch and pace. you grab the counter, the sink, the mirror.
he murmurs something, but you don’t quite hear it at first.
“—push back,” he repeats, a little louder. you do, but the next thrust fills you so deep, you almost yelp out loud.
“quit running from it,” he chuckles, but his size and pace are so overpowering, your arm instinctually moves back to slow his thrusts. he grabs it instantly and folds it back over your chest. 
“push—back—” he grits, pulling your hips into his thrusts. when he’s satisfied, he groans into your ear, barely muffling the sound in your hair. and then rough fingers are rubbing over your clit, circling them.
“i know, baby, i know.” he croons softly against your ear as you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. “you—fuck—be brave for me.” 
“that’s right. you’re gonna get it nice and creamy for me.” he keeps an unrelenting pace.
“or else—“ he chuckles, patting your cunt a few times.
“i’m gonna slap this pussy raw.”
you barely mask the sob into your arm. “matt— please.”
“you can do it, you can do it,” he breathes, voice breaking and growing equally as desperate. “‘m gonna follow you, sweetie.”
you push back into him, holding your temple flush against his. 
“love you so m—,” you croak. “—much.”
“oh, i love you so much too— you’re mine, you know?” he breathes, and then he says your name, the final trigger.
you grab the counter in front of you, seizing up and crying his name inaudibly as you come harder than you’ve ever come. his arms hold you, your steady anchor at sea as you forget all your surroundings. 
it’s just the feeling of him coursing, thunderous and electric, through your veins.
he joins you moments after, groaning into the meat of your shoulder.
you don’t know if seconds or minutes pass. in this moment, it’s just the two of you. 
~
you both step out of the bathroom, adjusting your attire. the office around you is silent, the usual hustle of the day having ebbed away with the setting sun. matt pauses, his heightened senses scanning the environment.
“coast is clear. foggy and karen must’ve left,” he notes. "office is empty.”
"your heightened senses come in handy," you giggle.
matt’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. "they have their perks," he admits.
matt pulls you close for a moment, kissing your forehead. surveying the aftermath of your impromptu interlude—the spilled coffee, the disheveled papers—he comments, “we made quite the scene here."
you glance at the mess, a playful glint in your eye. “just working, though,” you say.
“right, ‘just working’,” he repeats with a smirk.
hand in hand, you leave the office, stepping into the cool night. the city around you is alive with lights, but in this moment, they seem to pale in comparison to the excitement still buzzing through you. 
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saintslewis · 9 days
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❝ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐀 ❞
𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒
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pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc - Nadia Hamilton
summary: a rainy day in the South of France has put you two closer than you would think.
warnings: outfit descriptions, cussing, suggestive gestures, pet names, links to visuals, a bit of smau (i’ll make a separate chapter for that 😭)
saint’s team radio 🎀: hey y’all, Nadia misses you guys! Sorry I took forever with this, it was a lot on my plate along with a whole lotta drafts that i made up 🧍🏽‍♀️ i love you guys 🥹 LEWDIA IS BACK!!!
renaissance: the masterlist • pots: social media
tags are down below! (let me know if you want to be tagged!)
fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!
pics are from ig and pinterest
-
It’s 8 am and Nadia couldn’t feel any lighter, a smile painted on her face as she descended down the stairs of her LA home.
Vanilla and cinnamon scented candles were lit around the living room along with the kitchen area, clean and ready for the amazing breakfast she was going to make for when Lewis woke up. The satin pyjamas smelled like his cologne and surprisingly, she felt refreshed after a wild night out with her friends.
Except it wasn’t 8 am on a Sunday morning.
“Are my earrings too loud?” Nadia exclaimed, holding her ears as she stood in front of Amara who was leaning on the Jeep she and Miles came in.
“What?” Amara slurred and giggled right after with her eyes barely open.
“You can’t hear them?” She shook her head, feeling her head sway much faster than it actually did.
Amara just laughed out loud at Nadia’s confusion. “Tinkerbell, they’re veeeeery quiet.” She managed to get her words out, her eyes barely open.
When Nadia is high, she’s a very special person. Her curiosity skyrockets and she can hold a conversation for hours about literally anything. How she got to this point was just 40 minutes before, she had asked for something sweet because she had a sour taste in her mouth and Amara just so happened to give her 2 edibles.
Miles had suggested that they all head home and the girls get some air from being the packed party. The Jeep luckily had an open roof for the cool air and the boys just watched the exchange between Nadia and Amara, laughing at almost everything they said.
“I really want pancakes. Oh! Pookie bear, can we make pancakes when we get home?” Nadia expressed her excitement when she thought of the idea although not knowing the time. All Lewis did was smile at the eager girl, holding onto his coat just in case she felt cold.
“Brotha, just as a me and you talk. How you feelin since Nadia came into your life?” Miles asked, crossing his arms as he watched the two women laugh at a bug on the window shield.
Taking a breath, Lewis began. “It’s been fun having someone around, I won’t lie. She had a whole life before me and I feel guilty watching her change her life around to help me with my image. I think she sees this as a friendship and I wouldn’t put it past her to not. She’s a breath of fresh air.” He spoke.
“Just wanna point out you did not look at me the entire time you said all that.” Miles laughed, earning an eye roll from his friend. “But it is very nice to hear you speak about someone like this. Nads is a brilliant one, so I’ve heard from the grapevine.” The tall man nodded as he talked.
“The grapevine being Amara?” Lewis teased which earned him a push on the arm. “Shush. Anyways, she went to Cambridge then Oxford and she’s a teacher. If you fuck this up, Carl Davidson, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” Miles pointed at Lewis who just took everything in.
“Who knows? She could’ve had a line of people waiting for her but she wanted to help you out of the goodness of her heart, dealing with your stubborn ass. My point is me and the crew already love her and her personality so please.” He concluded, making the “i’m watching you” gesture and they both laughed.
“Let me go make those pancakes and I’ll let you know.” Lewis chuckled at the thought of making pancakes with Nadia at 11 pm, mere hours before they have to leave for Monaco.
Eventually getting the women into the car and them immediately requesting to play music and sing their hearts out, the group drove off into the nighttime and it wasn’t long until they reached the Los Angeles home.
“Bye Mars, bye fencer.” Nadia exclaimed, dragging out the last letter of their given nicknames. The jeep drove out of the large gates and the two walked to the front door with held hands, mainly to keep Nadia from tripping on her own two feet. Once in the house, Lewis could tell that she was about to head for the kitchen first but he held her hand much tighter which made her whine out.
“But the pancakes, Lew.” She whined as he pulled her in front of her. “I know, Nads. Let’s just take our shoes off before we go make them.” He smiled, watching as she leaned herself on the hallway wall with her eyes staring daggers into his.
“You’re no fun.” Nadia rolled her eyes but she could feel her body tingling as he continued to hold intense eye contact with her.
“Wanna repeat that?” Lewis smirked and she shook her head, feeling her high slip away a little as Nadia felt all the emotions.
Kneeling down, Lewis put his hand out to her legs so that she could get her slightly stained shoes off. With each antagonising minute that passed, she watched the man gently take her shoes off and neatly putting them next to the wall but what truly sat with her was how close he was to where her daydreams led her to.
“Thank you.” Nadia whispered out to him, watching him stand to his full height. “No problem, sweetie.” He winked and linked his hand with hers once again, seeing how gone she was, the plan of making pancakes out the window.
Going upstairs, reality started becoming clearer the closer she got to the top step. As nervous as she was, Nadia wanted something without her being the first one to make the first move. “Could you help me with my corset?” She blurted out, ignoring the butterflies flying around her stomach.
“Lead the way.” Lewis moved to the side to allow her to enter her room first. Thankful she left it clean, she slowly walked to the en suite bathroom with him following her closely behind. The mirror reflection showed him with his hands in his pockets, the coat long forgotten downstairs. Her breath hitched when she made eye contact with him through the mirror, her hands holding onto the edge of the bathroom counter.
To try and ignore the rising tension between them, Nadia played a little with her hair and Lewis took this as an opportunity to really drink her in. Every item she wore sat on her body so well, her jewellery shining representing her personality. He internally thanked the universe for bringing such a woman into his life, watching her fidget about and eventually finding a claw clip for the wig she wore.
Nadia raised her hands to attempt to take the jewels off but he reached out first, standing dangerously close to her and she could feel his fingers graze the back of her neck with goosebumps rising on her skin. It didn’t take long until Lewis gently placed the accessories on the marble counter and took a step back but she wished he stayed longer behind her, it felt all too right.
“You really shouldn’t look at people like that.” Nadia muttered, taking off her bracelets next. “So I shouldn’t appreciate my wife just existing?” Lewis smirked, his hands now behind his back.
“Said the same thing back at the party, white boy didn’t even know.” She smiled at the memory, deciding to take off her makeup before taking the corset off also just to keep Lewis in her company a little longer.
“Sweetie, he knew. Pretty sure he watched you for a while before he did that stunt.” He said, watching intently how she took her makeup off.
Scoffing a bit, she dragged the damp cotton ball across her eye. “Stunt? Dare I say you sound a lil jealous, Sir.” She chuckled. Lewis didn’t respond, he just kept his eyes on her and watched her try to shy away from the intense look he was giving her with a small smile on his face.
“You looked really good today.” He complimented. One thing Nadia didn’t want to show was how easy it was for her to fold at his words but she couldn’t help it. “Boy, you’re over here making me blush.” She gave him a smile through the mirror, appreciating the way their friendship was going.
Lewis shrugged. “Glad it was me and not that white boy.” He rolled his eyes and got a loud laugh out of her as she was dabbing her face with a small towel. “I knew you were jealous!”
“Yeah yeah.” Now it was his turn to shy away so that Nadia couldn’t see the growing smile on his face.
“Can you break down this upcoming week for me? I won’t hold you, I’m super nervous.” She asked, turning around to face him then leaning on the counter.
“We’ll be staying at home this week, first thing. Might get my hair done in time for Versace then the rest of the week is prep for the race weekend.” He spoke, scratching his head afterwards.
“I sent Tia some ideas for your outfit and she went ahead and got it, she said it’ll be in Monaco by the time we get there. She also said it’s hella bougie over there so I need to up my game this week.” Nadia said then nodded afterwards.
The two conversed about everything she could possibly expect from the Monaco Grand Prix weekend and how wild it could get. As promised, he had helped her with her corset clips and choosing to ignore that they could cut the tension with a knife.
They said good night to each other quite awkwardly before heading to bed.
Baby steps, Nadia thought.
iMessage!
The girlies 🫦
nads: i won’t lie to you guys, we had a moment
charlotte (not tilbury) : LEWDIA IS HAPPENING???
personal pillow amara: FINALLY also how are you not high out of your mind?
nataliaaaa: you got tinkerbell high?
charlotte (not tilbury): can we focus on the two lovebirds pls !!!
charlotte (not tilbury): you’re not off the hook amara 🤨
nads: my high disappeared SO QUICK but it felt so real, i blushed
nataliaaa: tink, i’m going to need you to STAND UP. it’s damn near 1 am ‼️
nads: sorry 😭 just wanted to update my girls but i’ll def tell you the deets in monaco if you guys are coming?
personal pillow amara: unfortunately i have work so i’ll miss so much iconic shit 😔
charlotte (not tilbury): oh no 😔 i’ll definitely fill up my phone storage for you mars x
nataliaaa: mars, we got you 🫵🏽. now let’s get some sleep before our flight!
three people liked this message!
(+44) 34 - *** - ****
yo nads, it’s cench
nadia: what do you want
central cee (unfort.): so me and dave are heading to mons this week for the race and what not
nadia: so what’s that got to do with me
central cee (unfort.): c’mon don’t be like that
nadia: girl wtf do you want
central cee (unfort.): we shootin that weekend so we had the brilliant plan that you could be in the vid 😁
nadia: bye cench, don’t annoy me this week. tell dave i said hi though
central cee (unfort.): nads 🧍🏽‍♂️
nadia: AHT AHT you lost the privilege to call me that after that little stunt you tried to pull in front of my boys
central cee (unfort.): it was for the beta squad vid
nadia: go talk to the wall. bye.
central cee (unfort.) has been blocked!
-
MONTE CARLO, MONACO
In Europe, it’s always raining somewhere and today, Mother Nature chose Monaco to spread her showers.
The pair had landed a few hours earlier, crashing into their beds after a quick penthouse tour which left Nadia speechless. A well deserved nap later, soft music played from the house speakers and vanilla scented incense wafted through the air while she looked through the kitchen for ingredients for pancakes, also making sure they hadn’t gone past the expiry date.
Although it was raining outside, it wasn’t as cold inside. Satisfied with how the first pancake came out, she continued pouring a bit of the batter into the pan. “Maybe I should melt some chocolate.” She muttered to herself, biting the edge of her nail while rotating the pan around.
Lewis couldn’t help but look at his wife in admiration once again, everything about her was endearing to him. He knew she was different from anyone he’d been with, despite the obvious that she wasn’t famous. He appreciated her showing her personality from the moment anyone meets her, the genuine feelings she expresses to everything and her support.
Not to mention her reactions to anything he buys for her, he loves the smile that spreads across her face when she sees something she likes and he wants to keep that smile there forever.
“It smells good in here, chef.” Lewis spoke, leaning on the kitchen counter and watched her prepare their pancakes. Nadia flinched at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to wake up anytime soon.
“You’re going to give me a heart attack one day, pookie.” Nadia said, pointing the spatula in his direction. Sliding the cooked pancakes in his direction for taste test, she continued making the others.
“I still wanna melt some chocolate so go right ahead and tell me what you think.” She informed, not realising that he had not once glanced at the food in front of him. “I’ll wait up for you to finish so that we can eat together.” Lewis spoke, going as far as to lean his head on his hand.
Turning to face him, she put her hand on her hip. “I wanna wash the dishes before I eat, it’s one of the weird things I do.”
“I’ll help. Looks like we’ve got more in common than we thought.”
With Nadia drying off the dishes, Lewis stuck to washing duty and it would’ve been a fairly quick process if the two didn’t sing all the songs that came up. “Damn you can sing sing! Might make you sing for me every day.” She joked, drying off the last bowl used for chocolate chips and moved around the spacious kitchen to put it away.
“Whatever you say, Nads.” Lewis cleaned up the sink then turn to watch her struggle to put the bowl back because the cupboard was too high.
Deciding to help her, he held her waist and hoisted her up then helped her down, the two gazing at each other afterwards. There was that tension again, one step from either of them and their chests would be touching.
Neither had made any move to look elsewhere, getting lost in each other’s eyes. Choosing to be bold, Lewis dragged his eyes to her plump moisturised lips, waiting for something to happen. Anything.
The doorbell ringing is what brought them out of their moment, both looking at the front door as if they had been caught. Hooking her finger to his infamous pearl necklace, Lewis could barely comprehend her lips on the corner of his mouth. A quick peck and her lipgloss now transferred onto him.
“I’ll go get it.” Nadia smirked then gave the shocked man a wink, moving to head to the front door, revealing Tia carrying two Versace bags. “Am I interrupting somethin here?” Tia voiced out before entering the penthouse.
“Hello to you, Tia.” Nadia greeted, closing the front door and following behind.
“I’ve got your outfits for tomorrow!”
-
“It’s way too early for this shit but but I look good that’s all that matters.” Nadia spoke to herself, spraying the last bit hairspray to the back of her head then adding one last hairpin.
Fixing her dress afterwards, she stared at herself in the mirror and was extremely happy with her choice. She was more than curious to see how Lewis’ outfit came about since she was given the opportunity to style him.
The theme for this event was all black while Donatella Versace and Dua Lipa’s vision was for the runway outfits to be the stars of the show. Going through fashion blogs and archives late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she made sure she built up a good enough outfit to add to her portfolio.
Nadia knew his braider came over this morning whilst she was styling her own wig and she was excited to see the finished product on him. Seeing her Louboutins waiting to be worn on the floor, she decided to make him take photos of her before they left.
Lifting her dress in order for her to not trip on it, Nadia walked to the main bedroom knowing very well that he was there because she could hear his footsteps. “Pookie, could you take some photos of me before we leave. I want to make…sure….” Nadia couldn’t finish her sentence as the man she was looking for walked out of his closet adjusting the black shirt he wore.
“Damn.” She whispered lowly but he had heard her and her previous request. The all black outfit accentuated his physique along with the tailored pants. On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t be as exciting but on him, it had a completely different style to it. Very minimal jewellery but goodness did it work with the outfit.
“You look gorgeous, Nads. Extremely gorgeous.” Lewis complimented, fixing his watch. She didn’t want to show that the compliment got to her but her pursed lips and high cheekbones were a result of it. “Thank you, Lew.” She voiced.
Eventually, the pair had taken all the pictures they could before leaving. The show had been a success, Donatella had absolutely adored Nadia and how she presented herself to the fashion world. Lewis stood back and watched as she met so many people with such grace and kindness, networking without even realising. Not to mention Dua Lipa going crazy upon finally meeting Nadia, only ever interacting online. Best believe most of the garments were already being sent to Nadia’s doorstep.
-
With Friday quickly approaching, Nadia sat in the passenger seat of the sf90, texting her younger cousin who finally arrived in the uk the day before. The tension from earlier on in the week was still present but it was masked up with their friendship. Both had tried to distract themselves from it by spending time away from each other; Nadia with the other wags and Lewis with Miles and Spinz but it only got worse because of the space.
The traffic that day was awful but they had somehow gotten to the paddock in time. The atmosphere in Monaco was buzzing with excitement and people were everywhere donning their merch and waiting for their favourite driver to arrive. As always, the Mercedes garage was full with tons more celebrities than there were in Miami.
Spending most of her time with Charlotte, Nadia gathered up the courage to tell her about everything going on with a certain UK rapper. “Wait wait. So he’s still pining for you or what?” The blonde held Nadia’s hands across the table at the Paddock Club, overlooking the garages.
“I rejected him when he tried the first time. We continued being acquaintences until now, I guess. Mind you, this man basically asked if I wanted to be a video vixen.” Nadia rolled her eyes at the whole thing.
“The audacity of this man.” Charlotte said with a disgusted expression. She looked behind Nadia for a moment, watching this person walk closer and closer to them.
“Nads?”
“Yeah?”
“You said he wears a ‘23’ chain?”
“Uh huh…”
“Let’s go, he’s coming over here but he’s distracted right now.” Jumping out of her seat, Charlotte grabbed Nadia’s hand and quickly lead her out to the ever-busy paddock. “Damn, Lottie. Warn a girl next time.” Nadia chuckled as they slowed down and walked leisurely, practice not starting until an hour’s time.
Talking about anything that came to mind, Nadia had accidentally bumped into someone’s shoulder, immediately apologising until she saw who stood in front of her with a gigantic smile on his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” He apologised, several Portuguese words following right after. Neymar Jr opted to continue staring at Nadia, all his focus on the woman in front of him. “It’s okay, I’m Nadia Hamilton. Nice to meet you.” She smiled, still holding onto Charlotte’s hand very tightly.
“Ah! Lewis’ wife! I must say you are very beautiful.” Neymar spoke and just like that, Nadia’s smile slightly faltered. “Right! This is Charlotte, my close friend.” She introduced the two to each other but he had his eyes on his friend’s wife.
“You know I never thought I would meet you. I wanted to ask Lewis but as always, he’s busy.” Neymar was trying and Nadia thought it was an adorable attempt. Within the span of a second, Lewis appeared behind Neymar on his scooter, with such a dark look in his eyes.
Charlotte squeezed Nadia’s hand once more to pay attention to her surroundings and once she did, she locked eyes with the man of the hour.
The girls watched as Lewis interacted with Neymar as if he didn’t just look at him in such a way that brought chills down their spines. “I see you’ve met Char and my wife, Nads.” The driver turns to them, reaching to embrace Nadia with Charlotte immediately catching the drift and texting the girls about it.
On the outside, this interaction looked all too friendly with old friends catching up just before Lewis has to get out on track. The look in Lewis' eyes said it all and Nadia couldn’t help but be entertained. Watching the thirsty footballer walk away in defeat and Charlotte running away to go tell Miles and Spinz everything, the pretend couple stood right by his scooter with cameras clearly pointing at them.
Keeping his arm around her shoulders, he leaned down to her ear. “You know you have cameras following your every move,right? You think that was a nice move, princess?” He spoke and she felt the vibrations of his voice travel down her body, resisting the urge to cross her legs.
“No…” She replied.
“Also your little rapper friend came around looking for you. Says he’s shooting for his music video.” He lifted his head to make it look like he was having a normal conversation when in reality, she was anticipating everything coming out of his mouth.
“And what did you say?” She asked, lowering her glasses from her head, following his direction. “Told him to have fun, it’s Monaco after all.” He smirked, he was enjoying this way too much.
All she could do was nod. The last thing she wanted was for that man to meet Lewis and now he’s taken it upon himself to go above himself and Lewis was entertaining it all.
On one of the huge screens right by the grandstands, the camera man made sure to keep the camera on them but Lewis on one step ahead of him. “Smile for the camera, Mrs Hamilton.” He quietly said with a smirk, patting her lower back and that brought goosebumps on her skin.
She smiled the best way she could, showing off her tooth gems.
What the hell? Nadia thought.
-
“This entire weekend has not been real.” Nadia groaned as she put her head in her hands, her left wrist heavier than the other. The music was blasting loudly as she watched her friends partied from the booth. Their way of persuading her being “He’s driving, you’re not. Let’s go have fun!”
The ‘fun’ in question was shopping, driving around Monaco in different sports cars each, participating in random street interviews and almost ending up in that music video. Not to mention Tia gifting her an iced out Rolex signed by her crew back in the uk, a few tears escaping as she opened the watch just before Lewis left for Qualifying.
However, Nadia Hamilton had no clue what her and her friends were doing at a club as the race was being held, only on lap 12. She was exhausted, these past two weeks finally getting to her and the thought of having to return to work next week made her cringe. No drinks had entered her system but she could feel the headache coming through.
Grabbing her shoulder bag, Nadia headed to the bar to let her friends know that she’ll catch up with them later at the post-race party that apparently everyone attends. Hopping in the Lamborghini and fastening her seat belt, the woman sat back and really thought about her life at the moment.
No less than three months ago, she had finished off paying her student loan 3 years after she received her honours degree from Oxford. Thinking that she finally felt a weight lifted from her shoulders after submitting the final payment but it was nothing compared to how she was living now. Financially free to do whatever she wanted.
She knew it was a dangerous thought to have because truly, no one knows how long this ‘marriage’ between her and Lewis will last. Once he’s no longer in different scandals, will he kick her out? Will he take back the gifts and cars? Who knows. But one thing Nadia knew was that there is always going to be a plan b if the first one doesn’t work out.
Still owns her car, her apartment and places her salary in her savings account just in case this doesn’t carry through.
Hearing the roar of the sports car through the streets of Monaco had caught the attention of those outside of the track, Nadia quickly rushing to the penthouse to avoid the not-so kind weather approaching. Sending a good luck text to Lewis knowing very well he couldn’t read it, she crashed onto the couch after a shower and watched the race whilst occasionally watching from the balcony.
P4 was a good result although she wished for a podium, proud of him either way and her instagram story was evidence. After a few hours of chilling and cooking up some good pasta, Lewis got home and she made sure to hug him with excitement.
“You did the damn thing out there, boy! Those old ass motherfuckers had no idea what they were saying.” Nadia cheesed as she let go of the hug. He was pleasantly surprised at all this energy considering she was out all day.
“I mean, it’s not the result we wanted but I worked my ass off today.” He spoke, placing his stuff down on the kitchen counter. He stood next to her as she too leaned against the counter with her arms crossed.
“By the way, our friends have invited us to the post-race party at Lillie’s.” She pursed her lips then looked at his side profile. “What’s your say?”
“I don’t know, some Brazilian guy’ll be there and want your full attention.” Lewis shrugged.
“So..you?”
Kissing his teeth at her response, she burst into laughter. “I had to, that shit was funny.” Nadia wheezed as she looked at his stoic expression. “Damn,” she wiped a tear of laughter. “Let me go change so I can piss you off even more at the cluuuub!” She stood up straight and walked to her room, cackling loudly as she did. Leaving him to shake his head and laugh at her little jokes.
A good hour had passed and she was surprisingly ready in time. Wanting to keep as many memories of the weekend, Nadia took many photos be it serious or with personality. However, she wanted to change scenery so she went ahead to the living area that had a mirror and had an impromptu photoshoot.
Not noticing Lewis’ heavy footsteps walking around, she only looked up after a few moments and caught him admiring her. He sat on the couch manspread with his arm under his chin although his eyes were telling a different story.
Nadia took one glimpse at his outfit consisting of a LV sweatshirt that resembled a football jersey, large jewellery with his cap facing backwards and a fan in his diamond-clad hand and to take it a step further, he leaned back into the couch and flashed a bright smile, revealing a new set of grillz to her.
Fuck it, she thought.
“You think they’ll mind if we’re a bit late?” She asked, slowly walking towards him until she ended up between his legs. His hand connected with hers and guided her into his lap to straddle him, both hands grabbing at her waist to bring her closer.
“They’ll be fine.” Lewis slightly bit his lip and leaned in.
Instagram!
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jawllines · 1 year
Text
But how could she voice this? Nobody else had made her request it explicitly, so she really wasn’t sure what to request. Any version of her saying it just sounds more and more pathetic, to speak the words aloud would be embarrassing. 
“You want me to stay?” Harry offered, after some time, and she was grateful for it as she nodded, “Just in the room?” 
Her face feels warm as her eyes glance over to the other side of her bed, “It’s. . .it’s a big bed,” she told him, swallowing thickly, “You can lay down if you're tired.” 
Harry’s lips quirk into a tiny, halfway smile, and Y/N had seen that look enough to know some form of a taunt typically follows it, “Oh I see,” he began, lifting himself up onto her bed and crawling over her body to get to the side she offered, “Was this a ploy to get me into your bed? You could have just asked, Sweetheart, but I would have asked for dinner first.” 
or
Y/N finds out a secret and Harry finds a rat 
part 1
part 2
iii.
Y/N has never been so embarrassed.
The hike was her idea; granted, she’s not a big hiker to begin with, and she hardly believes the sneakers she wore were meant for more than casual ambling in a park — but she thought it could be fun. After being cooped up in her flat for a little over a week, she was desperate just to breathe in the fresh air and feel the sun on her skin. It was one thing to be locked away when the weather was bitter and uninhabitable, but it was finally getting warmer, and whispers of Spring were carried in the wind. An open window could only preclude her feelings of claustrophobia for so long before she needed to go outside.  
Since Harry could typically get Thomas to agree to things she’d never thought he might agree to before, he was the one she asked. However, due to the recent attempted kidnapping, even he seemed reluctant to the proposal and Y/N had imagined her plans had fallen through before they’d even truly been constructed. At least she did until Harry sent her a message a little past midnight the following night, with a link that directed her to a trail’s website. Would this be okay? His message read, and Y/N grinned so hard her cheeks were sore as she replied with “Yes!” ten times. 
Y/N is not one who would find joy in exerting herself but she was filled to the brim and gushing with an eagerness she hasn’t felt since being a child, the night before visiting a zoo. She did not for a second consider how sore she’d probably be, especially from the number of hills this trail included along the side of what wasn’t big enough to be a mountain but was certainly large enough to give the illusion. All she could focus on was the thought of the wind kissing her face and the sound of morning birds singing. Aching muscles be damned, she could just take a hot bath when they got back, and maybe she could persuade Harry to massage her feet if it was that bad. 
By the time Y/N woke up Friday morning, Harry was already in her kitchen preparing breakfast but that was hardly shocking. It was her second time witnessing him outside of a pressed suit and she couldn’t say that she was disappointed; Harry looked awfully cute in his hiking clothes. A hoodie that swallowed him up, athletic shorts pulled over black leggings, and a pair of bright red shoes that she could not imagine him plucking out of a store. A beanie was nestled over his head, but he had a hair clip locked around the edge of it, almost like he had it on standby in case he got too warm. 
He turned to face her, smiling warmly as he flipped a pancake, “I didn’t know if you had a water bottle, so I brought an extra one,” he greeted her, “And I bought some of those warm packs you activate by shaking in case it’s chillier than we anticipated.” 
“We need to get a stroller for your kitties so they can come too,” Y/N told him, as she hiked herself up on the barstool beside the counter, Harry working on the side adjacent to her. She rested her face against her fist, watching him putter around putting together the meal. There was something imminently gratifying about putting a man to work in her kitchen while she swung her legs and waited patiently to be fed, so she reveled in that feeling while he answered. 
“I actually do have a stroller,” he told her, “But since this is our first time, I thought it would be better to see the trail before bringing them.” 
With a sigh, Y/N agreed. Harry has brought them over three times since the first and Y/N enjoyed every second of it – he’d explained to her that as long as she doesn’t mind, he’ll bring them over often. This way he gets to spend extra time with them while he’s working and Y/N gets her animal fill as they meander throughout her flat, making it their second home. He’s even left them there overnight once, when he would be returning the following morning but wasn’t necessarily going home (their schedules make no sense to her, not even a little, and she wondered when the hell they ever slept), and Y/N really liked that. She woke up to Gremlin at her feet and Goose nestled against her breast beneath the blankets (and if she hadn’t been so sure that moving would stir them both, she would have taken a picture to send to him). 
They ate breakfast and Y/N pulled on an outfit she hoped would be multifunctional no matter what weather they would face or how much exerting herself would make her sweat. Even the walk to the parking garage lifts her with excitement, happy to finally be leaving the flat. 
“You’re awful chipper,” Harry remarked, following close behind her, his fingers looped around his keys, “Normally for this early in the morning, you’ve grumbled about something by now.” 
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Of course I’m chipper,” she walked around to the passenger seat of the car, “I’m free for a little while! You forget that I’m fucking stuck in there until someone breaks me out, while you can come and go as you see fit, really.” She smiled at the thought of the sun hitting her face, “It’s going to be so nice today too – I can’t wait.” 
“Mm, it is going to be nice,” he agreed mildly, “I’ll keep you out for as long as I can, yeah? But I’m sure Thomas will be blowing my phone up.” He smiled gently, “Things are still. . .fresh.” 
Y/N buckled herself in, brows dipped, “Hm? Did you guys not catch the guy? I thought you did and that’s the only reason I’m being uncaged.” 
“We did,” Harry’s lips straightened out, a dubious glint flickered past his gaze before he snuffs it out, “For the most part.” 
“For the most part?” She repeated with a small sigh – she wasn’t in the mood for twenty questions, she just wanted him to be straightforward.
Harry hummed, “Yes, they found the “mugger” –  it was his son,” Y/N’s brows raised, “Both have been dealt with appropriately for now but of course, everyone is still concerned that this wasn’t just an isolated incident. Things are going to be. . .a little tighter lately, so I was surprised Thomas agreed to this in the first place, but I did push pretty hard.” 
She smiled and nudged his shoulder, “That’s why I like you,” she told him, “Dunno’ what you’re doing to bewitch him but keep doing it, I like doing things.” 
The day had started out so well; Y/N isn’t sure how Harry had found this trail but it was pretty. It started out as a gravel patch of parking lot with a big wooden sign that read Green Haven Trail in big, bold letters, and to the left of it, a small brick building housing a restroom. It had rained last night, so the air smelled of moist earth and morning dew, and it’s a scent that she believes she normally takes for granted. Right now she isn’t though – right now she feels it slip through her nares, down to her lungs. She was more than pleased that it isn’t humid or else each breath would feel wet, and her skin would feel sticky, and she thinks that would have made her sad. Her first time out of the flat in how long, only to be accosted by unpleasant weather? Surely, she’d just lock herself in her room at that point. 
Most of the trail was paved but there were clear sections deeper in, where people had broken off from the designated path and wore down the grass and foliage to create a new route. If she couldn’t see where this off-path trail led, then she wouldn’t have suggested they go near it, but she could make out that it guided them to a mini waterfall from a creak. And after the rain, she knew it would be overflowing and beautiful, so she suggested they go toward it with the best pleading gaze she could give him (though it certainly wasn’t necessary – she believes Harry is a man of strong will typically, but if she asks him for something he typically gives in pretty easy). 
For a moment he seemed hesitant but eventually agreed, so they went toward it, and Y/N marveled at the rocks, the surfaces altering from smooth to rough and jagged, how the water toppled over them dropping down into the large well of the creek. If the weather was just a little warmer she would suggest sticking her feet in but it was still a little too brisk for it. So she made a mental note of this place for mid-June when the hike would undoubtedly be miserable in the summer heat, but the best part of it would be sinking their feet into this well of cold water and kicking them as they cooled down and ate a snack. Y/N assumed she would be with Harry again because. . .well, she usually is with him, isn’t she? 
They stayed there for a while for a short break, since they’d been walking for about thirty minutes uphill at that point. Y/N’s legs were already tired and she was in the middle of trying to find an excuse for them to turn around and start making their way back before she was really tired – but there was no need. No, why would she need a reason for them to turn around when she unwittingly gives them one? 
They had to trek down a small hill to get within closer visual distance of the waterfall and search the creek with their gazes for any potential fish or tadpoles swimming around in the greenish water. Going downhill to get there, meant going uphill to return, and while it wasn’t steep there was a decent-sized slope. Several jutted pieces of stone and rock and root should have made it a relatively easy way back up. Yet somehow, when Y/N tries to balance the sole of her shoe against the curve of a rock, she loses her footing. Her body rocks face first into the dirt, and she knocks her knee against a stone and cuts up her palm from the tree root she’d been gripping onto. Before she could tumble all the way down to the creek, Harry placed his hands on her to keep her steady, one at her hip and the other between her shoulder blades, “Holy shit!” He cried out, his voice echoing in the empty woods, “Are you alright?” 
So now, they definitely had to turn back, because Y/N had dirt smudged on her face, a few leaves in her hair (though Harry did pluck those out for her while they walked), her knee was sore, and her palm was cut up. Y/N doesn’t cry but she wants to, not just because her knee aches, or her hand throbs, or the dirt makes her face feel gross and grimy. All of that she could deal with well enough. 
What she couldn’t deal with, was the fact that she fell in the first place, in front of Harry of all people. How embarrassing – god, she couldn’t stop thinking about it but she wanted to wipe it from her brain entirely and pretend it never happened. But Harry is Harry, there is no way that he would ever let this go without making a sly comment about it every now and then. Especially once she’s all patched up and he knew for sure she was okay. 
She kept replaying the moment in her head: the squawky sound that left her mouth, how dumb she must have looked as she scrambled to stop herself only for Harry to be the one to halt her movement. He probably thought she looked like an idiot – no, she knows he did because why wouldn’t he? If it had happened to anyone but her, Y/N would have found some humor in it, and maybe she was just a bad person but there were compilations of people falling on the internet for a reason. 
Under different circumstances, Y/N would avoid the bathroom at all costs because it seemed like a staff infection waiting to happen but she tried to get into this one, only to find it locked. So not only did she embarrass herself in front of Harry, she had to sit in the car for forty minutes, uncomfortable, her knee aching and her face dirty. At the realization, she felt like she really could cry then, but the only thing that stopped her was the potential for further embarrassment.
“It could have been worse,” Harry tried to soothe her once they were back in the car, “Had I not been there to save your life, you could be in the creek right now.” 
“Shut up, or I’ll shove you in a creek,” she grumbled, brows furrowed at him, “Didn’t you promise to return me unscathed? This is coming out of your paycheck.” He only chuckles at her. 
The drive home was uneventful, and so was the walk up to her flat. As soon as they get through the doors, Harry directs her to the bathroom and says he’d be in there in a moment with a first aid kit, and Y/N has no fight left to argue. She went in, avoided looking at her face, and plopped down right on the toilet seat, waiting patiently for him. Harry appeared, looking a little too cute out of his leggings, now only in shorts that rode up pretty high on his thigh. He’s got nice legs – Y/N’s been thinking about them often lately. 
First, he tends to her palm, flipping it over and pouting at the sight of it, “Your poor hand,” he muttered sympathetically, caressing the flesh just below her thumb, “Does it hurt?” 
Y/N is unsure if he’s mocking her with how sweet his voice was, but she doesn’t fuss over it – honestly, she kind of likes it, “Yeah, a little.” She replied and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 
“Poor thing,” he reached inside the kit, “We’ll get you sorted.” 
After he cleaned it, then slathered it in the antibiotic ointment, and wrapped it up with gauze and a bandage, he got a washcloth wet. It took her a second to realize what he was about to do, until he was suddenly closer to her face than she expected, tenderly swiping away at the dirt smudged over her face. Y/N has trouble keeping her breathing even then. 
This is the closest she and Harry had been since the night they kissed, and she couldn’t keep her brain from conjuring memories of it. Especially when his lips were looking particularly soft today, and slick from whatever chapstick he was using, almost like they were begging for another mouth to press against them. The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow and the pout of his mouth supplicates for her lips to trap it between them. To relive last week, how eagerly he’d kissed her, how his hands had slid to her waist, how he squeezed her –
Honestly, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was skilled at acting indifferent to things like this and she’s certain Harry didn’t notice it was dawdling within her thoughts because he would have brought it up – but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. Every day, a few times a day, Y/N is suddenly accosted with a slew of images, all of which involve Harry's puckered mouth. 
Because she’d like to do it again – she wanted to do it again, but there was no way to just ask for it, was there? Not without being weird about it. At least that night they had been drinking, and if they really wanted to they could blame it on liquid loosening prior inhibitions. If Y/N was asking for it completely sober, then there was no turning back from that – then it was something they had to talk about and that’s difficult. Not to mention, she shouldn’t be canoodling with her bodyguards anyway. The time with Niall was a one-off, and she’d never had the urge or desire to do it again (well, maybe once or twice, but that was neither here nor there) – but she wanted it again with Harry. Honestly, she thinks she wants more than just the kiss with Harry. 
And they hadn’t even really discussed the first one yet! Why would they tack on a second kiss? 
With Niall, it was much easier; she sucked him off, and he came in her mouth, they laughed about it and then tried to finish the movie they were watching before both of them promptly fell asleep. When they woke up there was no awkward tension lingering in the air, she swatted him with a pillow so that he would get off the couch and go with her to a new cookie place as he’d promised. Life settled back in as normal, Y/N barely remembered what his cum tasted like after eating an iced sugar cookie, and that was that. 
But with Harry, the whole night persists in her memories. How he admitted to being jealous thinking about her with Niall, and how he wants to be her favorite guard. The taste of his tongue and the impression of his mouth pushed against hers. How he pressed his thumb into her chin and pulled her lips open wider for himself, how heady the feeling was, the caress of his fingers on her hips, her wrists, her jaw. Her cheeks warm when she thinks about crawling into his lap, how she felt him hard beneath her before he pulled away – before he stopped it from going any further. 
Y/N couldn’t help but wonder just how far it would have gone had he not withdrawn from her. 
“Stop looking at me like that,” Harry murmured, and only then does Y/N realize that she’d been staring directly at him as he still carefully wiped away the dirt, “I’m getting shy.” 
Brows pinching toward each other, Y/N frowns at him, “You’re like three centimeters from my face, where the hell else am I supposed to look?” She praises herself for willing the words so quickly from her mouth, instead of floundering how she wanted to when she’d been caught gawking (Harry always teased her that she reverted to her extreme “brat-ish tendencies” once cornered and she continuously proved him right). 
Harry has a knowing smile that Y/N wants to flick off his face like he could read her mind through each of her pores. He always kind of had that look on him though, that would suggest he knew what Y/N was thinking and feeling before maybe even she did. It annoyed her more than anything. 
“You’re being rather rude to someone who saved a clumsy little thing like you from drowning in a creek.” He murmured, standing up from the spot he’d been kneeling before her and tossing the wet cloth into the sink with a wet slap. He holds one finger out to her, a silent command to stay put, and Y/N finds herself listening to him until he returns with a bottle of water. With that in one hand, he pulled open her medicine cabinet and retrieved the paracetamol, popping the cap open and shaking two into his palm, “You need to take these or your knee is going to be sore. Say ahhh,” he held them in his fingers, hovering them over her mouth. 
She scoffed, “My knee is already sore. Give me that, you dick,” she clasps her hands around his, swiping the pills and pushing them past her lips before grabbing for the bottle of water. 
“There you go,” he ignored her insult, “That’s a good girl – y’know, you’re a brat, but you listen well when you want to. Kind of like a fussy cat.” 
A flush of warmth ran from her face, down her throat, and across her chest – the praise, no matter how backhanded, was still praise and Y/N felt her veins twinkle with it. Harry doesn’t seem to notice how it affects her, and if he does, then he is kind enough not to be a pest for once and keep it to himself. He held out his hand for her to take, helping her lift off the seat, “You aren’t limping, which is good, but we’ll still ice it. If you show up to your parent’s house with a bruised knee and scratched-up hand, I’m sure it wouldn’t be appreciated.” 
The reminder makes her grimace – she’d almost forgotten about that. Adam was the first to tell her about it weeks and weeks ago, and then her father reminded her just last week, yet she let it slip her mind again. Willfully she lets it slip from her mind, neglecting the thought – it was always a little awkward meeting with everyone. When she was little, they would coo over her and how cute she was which she had enjoyed at the time, but she had long since passed the age of being cooed at because she was in a pretty dress. And when she was little, she could fuck off and play pretend somewhere with her cousins or by herself and nobody questioned anything because she was like 7 years old and barely knew how to divide numbers. 
Y/N longs for the solace of being little and not needing to be socially present during family events; life was much easier when she could check out and nobody cared. 
“Are you going with me?” Y/N inquired as she followed him out of the bathroom, tugging down the zipper of her jacket and wiggling it off her arms. 
“Hm?” 
“To the family thing,” she dropped the jacket in her hamper, leaving her in a sports bra but she thinks nothing of it while she waits for his response, “Were you the one going with me?” 
Harry pauses, if only for a brief second, and Y/N sees a look she’s never seen before flicker through his face before he’s smiling again, “Aw, cute! You want me to be there with you?” 
She did, for some reason, she felt like it would be better with him there. Adam and Niall always get pulled off at things like this, but Y/N felt like Harry might stay by her side for it. She had nothing to base this feeling on beyond just knowing it in her gut. 
And when she doesn’t grumble or call him an asshole for teasing her, Harry must realize she’s serious, because the gleam in his eyes softens to one that is gentle and pitying, “It won’t be me accompanying you, though I would love to,” he told her, “I’m wanted elsewhere that day.” 
She frowned at him, already feeling the whine bubble in her chest before he could finish his sentence, “Just tell them that you don’t want to do that and you want to do this instead.” 
“As much as the princess’s word is considered –” 
“Eat shit.” 
“ – I believe that request would be denied. Thomas wants me for a more delicate and potentially violent matter, so that’s where I’ll be.” He sighed, thumbing over his eyebrow, “Though you do manage to be delicate and violent as well, maybe I could ask for a trade.” 
Y/N flipped him off before plopping down on the couch, watching as he began to kick off his shoes at the doorway now that they were settling inside. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if the reason Harry wasn’t going was more than him being needed elsewhere but she couldn’t come up with good enough logic to back the claim. Unless he was the Harry from her childhood, and he was desperately trying to avoid a situation where that fact may be found out, but even that doesn’t seem like his speed. He was much too casual and unconcerned for her to think he’d go to that level just to keep up some weird little secret. 
That doesn’t mean she’s a hundred percent convinced, but she just dwells on it a little less. 
“It’ll be okay, you know,” Harry says after a while, as he’s opening up her windows, pulling the curtains open to let sunlight pour into her room; it glitters off her coffee table and places a glare over her tv, and the sweet chirp of birds still singing early in the morning fills her flat (along with the sound of cars driving below them but the morning traffic had slowed considerably by that point), “Just a few hours of family shit, and then you’ll be done. Can come home and take a shower and relax afterward.” Y/N follows him around the room as he goes to her other window, “It won’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll even have a little fun.” 
She doesn’t have it in her to fight him, “Yeah, maybe,” she offered quietly in return, leaning her head back and letting her eyes flutter closed, trying to ignore the throbbing in her knee, “It just feels weird to see them is all, and having nothing to show for the years that have passed since I’ve seen them last. Like. . .I dunno, I have to sit and listen to everyone else and their successes and I’m happy for them but I can’t help but. . .wish that I had something too. But all I’ve got is attempted kidnappings and a hobby that I haven’t perfected when I’ve got nothing but time to perfect it.” Y/N puffs a mirthless laugh. 
“Self-depreciation doesn’t look good on you,” he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth and he sounds closer than he was before but she keeps her eyes shut, “Why don’t you start selling your art?” 
That does make her peek an eye at him, “Listen, I know I’m having a little pity party, but I don’t need you being mean and adding to it.” 
“I’m not being mean,” he retrieved a package of frozen vegetables from her freezer before he made his way to sit down beside her, body turned so he faced her directly, “I’m giving you an idea. Your art is good, and all the comments people have made on it in class tell you how cute the things you draw are. So yeah, maybe they wouldn’t sell in some smarmy art gallery, but they would definitely make a cute sticker on a water bottle or a laptop case. And what’d you get your degree in, wasn’t it business related? Marketing?” Y/N’s face pinches up. 
“So?” 
“So put two and two together, Darling, you’re smart,” he told her, “You make cute stickers and you have some understanding of marketing – start selling them online!” 
It. . .wasn’t the worst idea she’s ever heard. The people in the class had called her drawings cute, even the instructor had told her they were charming in a cutesy way. If other people liked them – if Harry really thought that other people would like them enough to stick them somewhere they had to look often – that would give her something to do, wouldn’t it? Something to focus on. . .something that could entirely be her own, and didn’t have to be a question of her safety, with no worry about getting her from point A to point B, and her name wouldn’t be out there. She could do it all under a different name! Loads of Etsy shops and the like don’t have the artist’s real name at all. 
It could just be her own little thing, and if it didn’t work, she could scrap the idea and pretend it never happened. But it was something. . .it could be hers. 
“Hm.” That is all she replied, despite the cogs clicking and turning in her brain. 
Harry sighed, plopping down in the space beside her, “I reckon you just like being difficult,” he told her, stretching one long leg out so it was sitting beneath the table, “Hm? I think you like trying to rile me up.” 
“Maybe.” 
                                                           .                                .                            .
Y/N has been having nightmares. 
As a child, she used to get them a lot. Sometimes they could be vivid; feel as real as a memory and Y/N would have trouble separating what was real and what was a dream. It was an unfortunate byproduct of a burdened subconscious, or at least that’s what the child psychologist told Thomas. And he then took a far more strict and tender approach to isolate her from the world of her parent’s work, which Y/N never really understood. Why wait until a child begins to show emotional distress before keeping them from something potentially emotionally distressing? 
They come and go, depending on the current state and status of her life. Times of stress brought them prolonged and heavy, bogging down her brain like waterlogged branches in a typically dry terrain. A monsoon of shadowy figures, hushed low voices, and crimson puddles. Trying to close her eyes but they’re being held open, trying to move through dense air with gelatinous limbs, trying to scream but her voice just barely leaves her throat. It’s nothing but frustration bubbling to her boil through her veins in the worst way, and when she finally does wake up, it lingers for a few minutes as she acclimates to being conscious.  
Once she has one, she’ll have them almost nightly until the problem is addressed or they eventually wither away. She doesn’t bring them up much – Niall and Adam know about them, but Thomas isn’t aware, though she doesn’t think he’d actually care. And she isn’t sure if her parents were even aware of her first round of them when they had concerned the nannies and guards enough to report them to Thomas. If they did know, they never brought it up. 
So she guesses it made sense that nobody alerted Harry to their existence if they were to ever occur while he was there.
They had started happening two weeks ago, shortly after the attempted kidnapping. It was scary, though it didn’t get very far, knowing that someone could find her location so easily was worrisome for future endeavors. And had this guy been more tactful and maybe a touch more forceful, then the situation could have gone horrendously bad – she could have been in a lot of trouble, and when her mind starts wandering to what could have been waiting for her. . .it’s awful. 
For the most part, they had been pretty tame. Y/N wakes up disoriented and groggy around 4 AM, she wanders out to the living room to find whoever was there that night, and if they were awake she’d make them both tea and stay up for a while. Niall was there the first night, and when she suddenly appeared in front of him with her hand stretched out, holding a mug to him, he gave her a knowing look, “Hm? Nightmare?” She nodded, and he made room for her on the couch, moving his computer, his iPad, or whatever he had brought over to keep himself busy for the night, “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head, “Fine, then you’re g’na have to listen to me rant about this fucking series I’m watching because. . . .” 
Adam asks fewer questions and most of the time is asleep when she wanders out but when her door clicks open he’s pulled from his sleep with a snort, “You okay?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Mm,” he would hum, “Go back to bed then, I’m not ready to socialize.” 
“I’ll just be up for a little, you can stay asleep,” she’d assure him, but she didn’t want to be alone, so she would make her tea and then sit on her feather blue recliner (that she was surprised he isn’t inhabiting) with her phone. Adam would say he’d stay up with her but make no move to change his position, so he always ended up back to sleep anyway. 
Bill and Martha were usually asleep too when she wandered out, but they were never ones for much conversation anyway. They would open their eyes, see she is in no imminent danger, then go right back to bed and that was that (nothing and nobody could make her feel more like a little kid than those two, and Thomas when she does see him). She would putter around her kitchen quietly, but take her tea into her room, wrapped up in her blankets and clicking through Youtube videos on her telly, comforted by the knowledge she isn’t alone in the flat. 
Some days there is nobody there with her at night, maybe an extra guard lingering outside the building, but no one inhabits her living room. Those nights Y/N is suddenly confronted with the harsh reminder that she lives in a constant state of fear, gnawing at her lip, jumping at every creak or click that echoed against the walls. It makes her feel like an idiot so she doesn’t bring it up to anybody, that on a regular night being alone can be weird, but on a night she’s had a bad dream it could be weird and long. It was stupid and made her feel like a child.
Tonight, for whatever reason, the dream was a lot rougher than it had been. While the prior nightmares were more nondescript things and hazy situations that she could just tell were bad but did not have comprehensible images of – this was much more lucid. Every touch felt like a burn against her skin, the hand cupped over her mouth and squeezed her nose shut stealing her breath away, the heart racing panic struck her fast, and her fingertips felt numb. She was thrashing, her throat sore from screaming, she needed help – she needed it right then, but there was nobody there. She was alone, she’s always been alone, she’s never safe, never, never, never –
“Y/N!” 
Her eyes split open, the beat of her heart pounding through her chest and ringing through her ears, and her trembling hands stay still at her sides. It took her a few silent, panicked moments before she realized she’d been woken up from a dream, staring at the figure who slowly, but surely, becomes Harry through her bleary gaze. Almost instantaneously relief floods through her, and icy spikes that dotted her vessels are now replaced with warmth, melting them. Y/N isn’t sure if the comfort is brought by the fact that she knows she’s awake so much as it is brought by seeing Harry – he usually showed up in her dream, and dream her was always reassured by his presence. His face usually meant whatever was plaguing her was finished – whatever shadowy, dark figure digging their nails into her arm dissipated. 
It was not until Harry spoke her name again that Y/N finally realized she’d been dreaming but she was awake now. Her eyes burn and her cheeks are wet – she’d been crying? Her bones feel stiff and creaky as she pushes herself from the mattress, pressing her knuckles against her eyes to try and rub the sleep from them. “You were having a bad dream?” Harry’s voice is low, his tone gentle, like he was creeping up on a resting bear and was worried to startle it. 
Y/N nodded wordlessly. The most he gets from her is a small hum as she tries to organize herself and her thoughts; she isn’t used to someone being here as she wakes up, staring at her warily, so she tries to force herself to speed it up. She didn’t want to worry him. And now that she thinks about it, when was the last time he’d spent the night here? He probably didn’t even know she had dreams like this to begin with. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry pressed carefully, and there was a small thud of four feet landing on the bed. She looked over to see Goose pad over to her, rubbing up against her torso and finding a spot in her lap before a low rumble of purrs overcame her. 
“What time is it?” Y/N inquired. 
Harry looks at his watch, “2 AM.” 
“Too late to talk about it,” she murmured, though she still felt shaken up. Her hands tremble as she smoothes them down Goose’s back, searching for more comfort in the soft fur, a wobbly rise and fall of each breath from her chest, “Was I being loud?” 
Harry gave her a small, empathetic smile, “Just a little,” he told her, “We could hear you,” it took her a second to realize we meant him and the cats, “And Goose was sitting outside of your door. At first I thought maybe you were awake, talking on the phone or something but you started yelling for help.” 
Grimacing, she frowns, at the image of Harry clambering to get up and burst through her door, overwrought with worry and his adrenalin spiking. His job – the whole reason he is here – is to keep her safe. So how horrifying is it to hear that one objective may be compromised in the middle of the night, on a floor way too high for someone to have snuck through a window?  “I’m sorry, that was – that’s probably scary.” 
“Yeah, it definitely wasn’t my favorite experience,” he agreed, “But I’m glad I could wake you up from it.” She scratched between Goose’s ears, feeling warm that the cat was concerned enough to sit outside her door once she heard her. She’s sure Gremlin is still blissfully sleeping wherever he was originally. “Well, I’ll let you go back to sleep. Call me if you need anything.” 
Y/N had thought that she was feeling better – she was awake, and she knew she was awake, so there was no reason for the same rimy panic that had been suffocating her to return at the mention of Harry leaving. Nor was there a reason for her to reach out and grab his wrist before he could get too far, a pitiful refusal pulled from her lips that feel sore and dry, she’s sure from her own teeth. Harry was safe – he couldn’t leave this soon after she’d woken up, she still needed a little bit – still wanted to be near him, and to hear him talk or even just sit silently at his side. 
But how could she voice this? Nobody else had made her request it explicitly, so she really wasn’t sure what to request. Any version of her saying it just sounds more and more pathetic, to speak the words aloud would be embarrassing. 
“You want me to stay?” Harry offered, after some time, and she was grateful for it as she nodded, “Just in the room?” 
Her face feels warm as her eyes glance over to the other side of her bed, “It’s. . .it’s a big bed,” she told him, swallowing thickly, “You can lay down if you're tired.” 
Harry’s lips quirk into a tiny, halfway smile, and Y/N had seen that look enough to know some form of a taunt typically follows it, “Oh I see,” he began, lifting himself up onto her bed and crawling over her body to get to the side she offered, “Was this a ploy to get me into your bed? You could have just asked, Sweetheart, but I would have asked for dinner first.” 
“Fuck off,” she grumbled, but it held little spite to it. Y/N wiggles back down beneath her covers, and Goose – disturbed but never grouchy – walks to the side, waits for Y/N to find a position she’s content in, and then returns. Y/N lays on her side so Goose tucks herself along her belly as she likes to, curling her face into her paws. Gremlin, who must have finally roused from his own blissful slumber, appeared on the bed at Harry’s feet before taking a seat, his tail undulating behind himself, waiting patiently for Harry to snuggle beneath the blankets. 
“Had I known you slept on a cloud every night, I would have asked for this sooner,” Harry said quietly, breaking through the silence of the room, only previously broken by the whirring of her fan above them, “It smells good in here too.”
Y/N watches him closely, as his head is against her pillow. Nobody else has ever laid in her bed before, and Y/N only ever sleeps on the left side of it, so she’s sure the right feels just as it did when she bought it. It’s weird to see someone there – but it only feels natural that it would be Harry, for whatever reason. Among the cotton, rosy pink duvet cover, in a long sleeve undershirt, his body having disappeared up to his shoulders snuggled beneath the comforter. He looks cute, especially when he turns to face her, and gives her a big closed-mouth smile that she told him in the past made him look like a pleased frog.
“You’re comfortable?” Y/N inquired and once Harry nodded, she finally closed her eyes again, “That’s good.” 
Some time passes. Y/N is unsure how long, but she’s almost certain that she’s fallen asleep until Harry's voice, syrupy and smooth as it always is, slithers into her ear, “I know you don’t want to talk about it and that’s fine,” he murmured, “But I just want you to know, I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Never.” . 
She falls asleep easily then. 
                                                               .                           .                       .
Y/N used to have nightmares when she was younger, Harry had vague memories of that.
“I had a nightmare that a bad guy tried to kill me again,” she told him casually one day when they were on the swings, like it was the most normal conversation in the world, “It really sucked. They were super mean.” 
“Did you get away?” Harry remembered being concerned, even as a child. Y/N was younger than him, not by much, but enough that he’d felt a sense of responsibility for her. Harry hated his bad dreams, so he empathized with her plight. Whenever he had a bad dream, his mum usually came into his room and comforted him, but Y/N told him once that her mum didn’t like being woken up in the middle of the night for something not urgent. If she had a bad dream and woke up scared but the sun wasn’t out, she would hug her teddy tight and will herself back to sleep – that’s what she had told him, at least. 
With a shrug of her small shoulders, she kicked her legs back and forth in smooth glides, “Dunno’, I woke up before he could.” 
He was concerned then and he was concerned now. 
When Y/N offered him the spot next to her, Harry didn’t hesitate for even a moment. If she was scared enough to stuff away that prideful, bratty side of her to request it, then Harry wouldn’t make her second guess herself. Instead, he tried to make it as normal as possible, with a small tease as he crawled in beside her. He’d resigned himself to the idea of staying awake until he knew for sure she was fast asleep. It took ten minutes or so, but eventually, her measured, even breaths and sleepy sighs lull him into his own slumber. 
Harry wakes two or three hours later, warm. Warmer than he had been when he fell asleep, which he wouldn’t have questioned if not for how icy cold Y/N typically kept her room. For a brief moment, he thinks that maybe her fan shut off and he made the conscious decision to get up and turn it back on for her, but when he moves, he feels a weight on his arm that stopped him. A weight that is different from that of Goose or Gremlin. 
Once he opened his eyes, Harry found that Y/N was snuggled up against him. 
It wasn’t in a sweet, movie-like way as things like this typically went in stories and movies. It was in a very Y/N-like way though – her left leg thrown across his hip, her body flush against him, her face halfway jammed in his chest and her arm stretched over his neck; she’s about one sleepy shuffle away from smothering him with her bicep if she moved just right. Harry thinks it’s very telling that she does not sleep with someone often because she had somehow rolled herself all the way over to his side when there had been a good distance between them to start. 
Carefully, he began to reshape her, moving her arm from over his throat. Harry had been making a conscious effort to be gentle so she stayed asleep, but a small grumble lifted into the air around them that sounds close to “Stop it.” but when Harry says her name, there is no response. Instead, she wiggles her shoulders, her arm finding a place around his waist instead, and scooted closer.
Tch, he rolled his eyes but he could feel a fond smile pulling at his cheeks, She’s even a brat in her sleep. 
Harry lets himself enjoy it for a little while. The warmth of Y/N pressed to his side, the peach-scented lotion still permeating from her skin, the feel of each rise and fall from her chest as she took a breath. His insides feel cotton-soft and melty, he traces circles in the center of her back and waits patiently for her to fall deeper into her head. Once she does, he tries again to carefully remove her from the glued position she’d been in, because while he likes being cuddled close to her, he knew she would be mortified if she woke up. 
This time she goes easily, letting him lie her arm at her side before sliding his hand beneath her thigh, attentively guiding it off of his hip. Y/N stretches, and turned away from him, her arms sliding around a pillow and hugging her face against it. What a cuddly little thing, Harry thinks, she’s probably searching for something (or someone) to put her arms around the whole night. It makes his heart twist in his chest, a weird mix between an ache and a yearning for her. He wondered if these bad dreams would disappear if she always had someone there to cuddle to her body, like an oversized stuffy. 
The idea of it has a pout forming on his lips. Y/N, in the time he’s known her, is driven heavily by physical affection that she is not receiving often. She may grouse when Adam touches her shoulder when he reaches over her head to get in the cabinet, but she leans into his hand. If Niall is around, chances are Y/N is touching him in some way, either with her legs across his lap, or their hips side by side (which. . .Harry has no right to feel an ugly twinge in his chest any time he sees it but that doesn’t stop it from happening). Martha wasn’t the soft type, but Harry had walked in on Y/N leaning against the pillow Martha held to her body while they watched the telly. When Harry had come to her room in a panic, just to see for himself that she was okay (after Otto’s botched kidnapping attempt), she melted against his knuckles that he couldn’t help but stroke against her cheeks. 
Harry had met her parents several times – they were. . .kind as they could be, with what they do, but they were not the nurturing type. They were cool and distant, and even though Harry knows they love their daughter, and talk sweetly, they just didn’t seem like the type to cuddle and coddle. And instead of growing an aversion to touch, she grew too long for it, even in small doses, even from her bodyguards. Where else could she get it? Harry is certain if she went out with her friends she would be touchy and clingy, flopped over them in some way, shape, or form. 
Gremlin moves relatively little with the change in positions, and Goose lets out an annoyed huff before following Y/N’s body, snuggling up against her back. It was almost disgustingly cute how much Goose enjoyed her girl time with Y/N; even though she was the less fickle of the two, she really didn’t warm up that easily to people but with Y/N, it only took a couple of days before she was sleeping in her lap. Harry thinks that not only are cats a good judge of character, but they seek out people who need healing, like little furry psychotherapists that say nothing but do plenty. Where he would normally be a bit jealous, he was glad that Goose had chosen Y/N to snuggle with and love on her. 
Harry sighs to himself. It’s only a matter of time before Y/N realizes that she’s been right all along about knowing him, he was just holding his breath and waiting for it. In his head, when he’d started this, the idea of keeping it all a secret from her seemed easier. There would be no need to go into the details of why he left, to relive any of it, to divulge what he had done, or to break his promise to Thomas, to his father, to her father. He could go on with her like they were two strangers and his past didn’t matter. And Harry doesn’t know why it is so important to him that she didn’t think the sweet boy he was turned into the man he is today; it felt as though it broke the mirage of normalcy his childhood had there for a little while. If the image Y/N held in her head of him was altered, it would pull at his stomach and tug around his heart. The boy she knew was good, not a drop of blood on his hands – the man she knew now had hands covered in the murk and filth of gang politics, rivalries and wars, drugs and guns. 
To keep the two mutually exclusive brought him more comfort. 
But Y/N is perceptive and she recognized him almost immediately. As smart as she was, and as sneaky as she could be, he had a feeling deep in his gut that she would be seeking answers at her parent’s house. It would be easier if Harry wasn’t there too, so she wouldn’t have to sneak around him to do it. And if she finds out. . .well, Harry has accepted that it might happen and he could only hope that she isn’t too angry with him. In the grand scheme, it has changed very little of their dynamic. Harry is a completely different person than he was when he left this place – when he left her. 
His biggest regret, looking back at it, was leaving her alone. Even before this title, when they were just kids playing, he always kind of felt like her unofficial bodyguard. Or even just a companion for her – she didn’t have many other friends, and for whatever reason, both of their parents (or more so his parents and Thomas) thought it was a fine idea to just have them play with one another. Harry thinks it would have been a one-time thing when his father was first getting heavily involved with them, however from what he had heard at the time, Y/N had requested him. 
Or maybe requested was a strong word. He supposes the better way of phrasing it was when Harry's father told him that the little friend he made the week prior asked, “Where is Harry? Is he coming to play?” Which was a request enough for Thomas to invite him to a park that day. They saw each other pretty much weekly after that, depending on what was happening or the state of affairs the organization was in. Actually, Harry doesn’t even think Y/N remembers that much – he had a slightly bigger involvement in her life than he thinks she realizes. But when he speaks to Y/N about her childhood (or more, when she brings up a random anecdote), he finds that she doesn’t recall quite a few things about it. Like her brain had packed it away in storage boxes and stuffed it up in the attic – he’d once read that memory loss was an intrinsic, almost instinctual survival skill. Anything she deemed emotionally traumatic, she may have just conveniently booted from her head, and that. . .well, that might have been most of her years as a kid. 
If he knows anything about her, he knew that she would be upset with him initially but he could only hope she moved past it. Harry would have loved to go with her to her family event, even if she found out with him there, then they could at least discuss it immediately or on the car ride home instead of her stewing over it. But Thomas and Garrison had pulled him aside for different matters – the ones he had described as much more violent than a dinner with a ton of members in a gang, surprisingly. 
There might be a mole. That’s what Garrison had told him privately, that he didn’t trust Otto was in this alone; that nobody just knows where Y/N’s location is, barely anyone knows where she lives and this was an outlet mall 40-ish minutes away. It was just too convenient that Otto would know where she was without there being someone to tell him or some way of knowing. So everyone was under a microscope: Adam, Niall, Martha, Bill, and even some of the new people – Kai, Charlie, Betty, Rebecca. Harry understood why all of these people were on the list, but – 
“Why not me?” He inquired, brows dipped, “I appreciate that I’m not, but I don’t understand why exactly.” 
“You’ve been around since she was a kid,” he’d reminded Harry like he didn’t know, “There will always be a little more trust between us with you than the others. We know you wouldn’t let anything happen to her and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your family.” 
So while Y/N was with her family, he would be preoccupied snooping in places he probably doesn’t belong. It feels wrong to spy on the other bodyguards like this, and even the newbies; he feels guilt trickle through his chest when he is flicking through files of them. But he knew it had to be done. . .that Y/N’s safety was the top priority, even if it meant potentially betraying the trust of his colleagues. 
He’s worried about what he might find. He’s worried about how Y/N would react if it was anyone close to her. 
Worry soaks his brain, weighs it heavy, and drags his eyelids closed so he would stop watching the back of her sleeping head. He needed to sleep – maybe he should have kept her tucked against his side, cozy and warm because he’s sure he could have fallen right back to sleep then. He already knew he would spend at least ten more minutes contemplating what the next few weeks could bring them. The last time he’d had a little bit of trouble falling back asleep in her flat was after they kissed. 
That kiss. . .Harry’s cheeks feel hot thinking about it. He could still feel her against his mouth if he focused hard enough; the taste of her tongue, how soft her lips were, the way she felt in his lap. He could also remember how embarrassing he’d been coming into her room saying he was jealous, which is the only part of the night he wants to forget. They probably needed to talk about it – when he’s speaking, and Y/N’s staring at his mouth, he feels like he should bring it up, but the words always stick to the back of his throat like honey. 
It was inappropriate, Harry shouldn’t have agreed to do it but Y/N was so cute asking him and he’s human, after all. She wanted to kiss and Harry loved kisses and how could he deny her of such a simple pleasure in life? Especially when she said she didn’t get to do it often? It would have been criminal for him to refuse her! And Harry may participate heavily in unlawful, corrupt things, but he was no bloody monster – his job (in part) was to make Y/N happy, and if a kiss was what did that then so be it. 
(At least this is what he convinces himself.) 
Thinking about it either does two things for him: makes him hard, or gives him soft, twinkling feelings in his stomach. Thankfully, tonight it was the latter, so he revels in the sentiment and finds himself drowsy once again (he’d worked himself up enough that he felt wide awake which would not do – they still had a few hours to sleep and he wanted to make use of it). There is comfort in knowing that if Y/N starts to have her nightmares again, he’s right beside her – he wondered if he’d ever be able to be at her flat without wanting to be next to her.
What he said before she fell asleep, he meant – he wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt her, and that includes a shitty dream. 
                                                              .                          .                          .
The gathering comes quicker than Y/N would have liked, but she figured it was better than the worry of it lingering like a gloomy cloud over her. Y/N had woken up that morning with a sort of weird relief tied into her anxiety; a premature peace was brought on by the fact the day was here and she was one step closer to getting it over with. No matter how unpleasant she would find it, most of these people were family, and if not family, then held a deep-seated, often fear-induced respect for her parents. It wasn’t like anyone would be blatantly mean to her or quiz her too hard on what she was doing, why she was doing it, where she was doing it, because. . .well, wouldn’t that make them look a touch suspicious? These sorts of questions would only be acceptable from her grandparents and that’s if they could talk about something other than how hard it is to use the bathroom the older they get. 
Y/N kept reminding herself of this in the hours leading up to the party and it made her feel much better. They were doing this because her grandparents were coming in from Dublin, where they had settled after passing the torch to her parents (neither was from Ireland, but both were drawn to the lush green hills and a seemingly endless supply of Guinness which is all they could wish for in their old age). Everyone would be much more intrigued by them than they would be by her – she felt silly for getting so worked up over going. Was it not a little self-absorbed to think everyone would want to know what she was doing?  Who gave a shit about what was going on with her besides a handful of other people? 
She had told this line of thinking to Niall who would be accompanying her to the party. “That’s awfully pessimistic but if that’s what makes you feel better then yeah, they’ll probably be focused on what your grandparents are chatting about. They’ve got some brutal fucking stories, but your Nan is so cute, you don’t expect her to be telling them.” 
It’s true; her Nan wears bright-colored cardigans and keeps her hair styled neatly in feather white curls. She knits, sews, and bakes cookies. When she was in town while Y/N was a child, she would take her (bodyguard-less, because “If something goes wrong, I’ll take care of it,”) to feed ducks in the park, or to pick out yarn for a blanket. Very normal, Nan-like things, so you really wouldn’t have guessed that she used to shoot people’s feet if they betrayed the family. 
The weather was much warmer today so Y/N wore a dress – her mum and Nan liked her in dresses, and though Y/N had a love-hate relationship with the garment, she’d like to make them both happy. A light blue, patchwork material that came just above her knees, with loose puffy short sleeves and a square neckline. Niall gave her a mocking gasp when she walked out in it, “I was half expecting to see you in sweats and a tank top, I never see you all dressed up.” 
“Because I’ve been on house arrest, dick,” she retorted, pulling her socks over her feet. 
With a snort, he pulled his phone out, “Harry’s g’na be so fucking jealous he didn’t see you in a dress.” 
“Huh?” Y/N slid her left foot into her shoe (the mary jane like shoe but was lacking the buckle that really made it a mary jane), “Why would he care?” 
“Because you look cute and he’s a sucker for you looking cute,” Niall says it like it’s obvious, confusion reworking his face into a confused frown, “He coos over like every cute thing you do.” 
“He’s just teasing.” 
A scoff leaves him, “Whatever you say – now smile for the camera.”  
Y/N smiled nice, big, and pretty, her head tilted dramatically and her middle finger stuck out toward him. It is the opposite of a deterrent for the blonde, who chortles as he takes rapid-fire pictures from varying angles, muttering something about, “See how you like it when this one goes to your Nan.” After the pictures are taken, she stands and smacks his arm lightheartedly. She wondered if Niall had actually sent it to Harry and her suspicions were confirmed just as soon as they got in the car to leave.
I can’t believe you’ve had such a cute dress and never told me or Goose, you know how much she loves dresses. She’s going to be so hurt.
The memory of Goose rolling around in a few of her dresses (and other various items of clothing but mostly her dresses) when Y/N was going through her closet (in a fit of pure boredom), plants itself into her brain. It makes her smile, even though she knew she’d be removing remnants of tortoiseshell fur off the fabric; she just wanted to scent her and all of her things. Harry told her Goose was in the midst of trying to adopt her but the paperwork is hard for a cat so it’d been taking some time. 
Rolling her eyes, she let her thumbs dart around the keyboard. 
Don’t use the cat as an excuse, pervert
The drive isn’t as awful and damning as she thought it might feel; it’s about 30 or so minutes out from where she stays depending on what traffic is like and Niall is on some soapbox about a drama he’s currently watching. She watches as the cityscape changes to suburbia, and from suburbia closer to the countryside. Not the house on stilts beside a river and a boat beside the car countryside, but the smarmy, affluent kind – where it wasn’t really countryside, but there were acres upon acres of land to own. The trees they pass are a blur of brown branches speckling with green as they shift to Spring, and bushes that never lost their green, to begin with.  
Anxiety still bubbles in her belly but more from the prospect of seeing people she hasn’t seen in a while, than it was from being worried they’d ask how she was doing. Because she realized she could A. Always lie, and B. Harry did give her a good idea the other week about opening some form of online shop. She’d started laying the groundwork for it down, so she could at the very least talk out of her ass about what she was doing. That was if anybody asked – she wouldn’t just bring it up on her own. 
Y/N finds that she just needs to tap into that part of herself she uses with her friends when she is able to go out with them. The part of her that completely erases any possibility that she has a life outside of what they were doing at that moment; narrowly avoiding questions that probe too deeply into her day-to-day, steering the conversations toward the person she was talking to and their life. Everyone likes to talk about themselves if you show you’re willing to listen, Y/N found that out relatively quickly. 
Her parents’ house, much like them, is gaudy and extravagant and too big. It’s a pretty place, but she just doesn’t necessarily see the need for columns lining the stairs leading up to the house, or the large brass lion knocker on the front door. The chandelier in the foyer when you first enter is about a thousand crystals that cast glittering shadows along the slate grey walls. From the foyer, directly in front of the door is a bifurcated staircase, and beneath either set of stairs splitting off from the main row, there was an entryway to the kitchen and a sitting area, both just on the side of too big. She could already see people moving around in the kitchen and could tell that most people were in the backyard where the majority of this would be taking place. 
This wasn’t the house she grew up in so there was no personal attachment to the walls, the floors, or the doorways. She doesn’t stop to linger around a spot on the wall she remembered being measured against when she was little, nor does she see little mirages of a small her running around the halls in a moment of nostalgia. Y/N walks through the foyer, her shoes clicking against the hardwood as she makes her way to the backyard. 
There were a lot of people to greet and she was feeling overwhelmed, but nobody noticed (nor seemed to care) about her arrival. It made it easy to slink around, seeking out her grandma who she knew would be sitting beneath one of the tarps they had set up shielding away the blinding son. She was in the middle of speaking to a group of people, so Y/N was going to stand and wait patiently off to the side, but her eyes flickered over, a smile broke out over her face, and she waved her closer, “Is that who I think it is?” Y/N lowered to hug her, “God, you’re looking like an adult! Where the hell is your grandfather, someone call the lazy sod over.” 
It was easy with her like it always was. Y/N spoke to her for a while, and hugged her granddad when he made his way over, (“Is your hair longer? Looks longer – you know, your mother had long hair when she first met your dad, like down to her bum, it was ridiculous! We used to beg her to get it cut, we thought it’d get trapped in a door.”). She spoke to them both briefly, and they told her they wanted to plan a trip where she came to Ireland for a visit, and she agreed immediately. Her Nan cooed and doted over her for a moment, pinching her cheek and murmuring something about her needing to sleep more, “I can tell you’re tired, you get that same look your dad gets. Why aren’t you sleeping? Is your mattress comfortable?” 
Y/N thinks, if her life was slightly different, these questions might annoy her but she revels in them. No matter how old you get, it’s nice to have someone worry over you a bit; to not see Y/N often but to know when she looks tired, to want to know why she isn’t sleeping, to wonder if it is her mattress. This is the kind of normal worry, about her sleeping habits, or how she’s eating, or if she’s happy – not about rivals and strangers to her that feel contempt for her parents but somehow translate that to hurting her. 
“We’ll talk later,” her Nan promised her, swatting her bum and giving her a small push, “Go mingle with your family, they’re missing you. And find your parents, tell them to stop working and come pamper me, I haven’t seen either of them for more than ten minutes.” 
She listens (her grandma is not someone you ignore orders from) and mingles. Y/N feels increasingly stupider for being so worried because really, nobody cares what she’s doing now, they mostly want to chat and reminisce over memories from years ago. She’s happy to listen, to laugh, to avoid any segues that might lead to delving into her life or opening a door where that might be a topic. Even if it was, she wondered if everyone just knew not to interrogate her – everyone is too worried about upsetting her parents to dig too deep into her shit. For all they know she could be doing under-the-cuff shit for them that nobody but she knew about (she isn’t but she could definitely could be – they aren’t above doing shifty things like that). 
Eventually, she did find her parents and it was. . .as it always was. They almost seemed like they were mid-meeting, which she hadn’t known, but all talked among themselves and the several people sitting beneath the stone gazebo (besides the pond they had built, with fish swimming around in it and a small waterfall because of course they had that) once she appeared, “Hi,” she greets unceremoniously, “Nan says stop working and go dote over her.” 
“Of course she did,” her mom smiled brightly, “Come here and hug me – where’d you get this dress? I love it, I’d be wearing that if I was just a few years younger.” 
“Try a decade,” her father teased, reaching over to squeeze her arm, “How’s my girl, huh? You all,” he turned to the others, “Go ahead and socialize, we’ll spend some time with our daughter.” 
They talk for a while, they’re the only ones inquiring about her life, and what she’s doing, and as she speaks it only then settles in her brain that they’ve got no clue. Y/N always imagines Thomas being puppeteer’d by her parents, doing as they say, but she forgets that for the most part, they do give him a fair amount of autonomy. Only relatively big notions (like her going to university) are discussed as a group. They do know that she’s being confined to her flat and they at least have the decency to  appear like they feel bad. 
“Once things settle,” her mum had patted her knee, “Things will be better, and you’ll be able to go out more. There’s. . .something going on right now, it’s better to air on the side of caution. Especially after what happened.” 
“Yeah, I get it,” she doesn’t. . .she tries her best to though, from their perspective, “Figure it out quick though, I want to go loiter at a mall or something soon.” 
She did end up telling them about her plan with art – after she told them about the art classes, which they seemed only vaguely aware of. Y/N went into it, about the cutesy drawings, about an online store, and they nod and say things like, “That sounds nice, Honey,” which is precisely what she expected. Something gentle, slightly dismissive, like they’re listening to a 12-year-old get overly enthused about her hobby. It was nice to talk about it with someone other than Harry though, even if she was certain they were only half listening. 
Her mother is the one to bring Harry up, sipping from her glass of wine, “Hm? He’s your newest guard is he not? How’s it going?” 
“It’s good,” she shrugged her shoulders, “He’s nice,” I kissed him the other week, “And he’s got two really cute cats that he brings over,” he slept in my bed the other night because I’m having horrible nightmares – do I look tired to you? Nan says I look tired, that’s probably why, “Yeah, it’s fine. Has he said anything?” 
Her father cleared his throat, “From what Thomas has said, he does well at all aspects of his job,” he gave a tight-lipped smile, and there’s. . .a look there, in his face, that caught Y/N’s attention, “Which is always good to hear, when we’re trusting someone with you.” 
“He does kind of remind me of someone,” her lips move before she can really think it through, bringing it up, but her dad’s disposition had changed ever so slightly – something that Y/N wouldn’t have noticed had she not been trying to read them the entire conversation, “I used to spend time with someone when I was little, who was named Harry. He just disappeared one day though.” 
As soon as her mother opened her mouth to respond, her father cut her off, with a smooth, almost immediate precision, “Hm, I think I remember him,” he reached for his drink from the table, “But he and his family moved quite a while ago, I believe. There was a company in Australia I believe, that wanted to hire him. That is if I’m remembering correctly.” 
Y/N thinks if her father had answered any other way, or even just slightly differently, she wouldn’t have questioned it. Maybe she would have finally given up, and let it go because even if she did know Harry from when she was younger he clearly didn’t want her to remember him for a reason. If she had anything else to do with her time, she probably wouldn’t have even cared that much to bring it up past asking Harry if she knew him from somewhere. 
But it was weird how he’d answered her. It was too fast – and how do you think you remember somebody, but go on to explain they moved to Australia? Plus, from what Y/N has gathered through bits and pieces she hears from her guards and from what she remembered when she was little, people don’t just stop working for her parents. They don’t just go on their merry way unless they are exiled, and even then, the offense would have to be pretty minor to come out unscathed. 
Once you’re in this world, you’re in it. There’s no dipping a toe in and deciding it’s too cold; the only option is to sink into it, down to the shoulders, and embrace it when the water lapping at your neck is finally warmer than the air blowing around above it. 
“Ohh, okay,” she plays nice and dumb, smiling gently, “Well that settles that then. I was just wondering.” 
The tension that had risen in his shoulders loosened, and he relaxed back in his chair, “Tell us more about this business you’d like to start – I know someone who specializes in marketing for start-ups and. . .” 
It’s brushed under the rug because of course it is, and Y/N keeps chatting with them a healthy amount before excusing herself to the restroom. This is when her parents make their move to visit with her Nan (“What a joy it is to dote on your mother-in-law,” her mother sighed, grabbing her wine), so they split ways. Y/N does have to piss, that much is true, but she’ll also be taking a detour to the library, where the photo albums were kept. Nobody questions where she’s going or why she’s going there, but she does manage to narrowly avoid Thomas who would have definitely not trusted her when she told him she wasn’t doing anything to rouse suspicion. 
The library, in comparison to the rest of the house, is actually one of the smaller rooms. She wondered if it was actually small or if the towering bookcases made it appear more compact than it was. On either side of the room, the walls were bookshelf-beside-bookshelf, filled to the brim with different novels, titles, hardbacks, and paperbacks (she doesn’t even think her parents are that into reading). Adjacent to the door, the wall is a window that reminded her of Edward’s room in Twilight, only this one was composed of bulletproof, thick glass and had large curtains that could be drawn if it was night. In the center of the room was a small couch, a coffee table, and a lamp (which has a very limited purpose when there’s a huge light fixture hanging from the ceiling that lights up the entire room as soon as it’s flicked on). 
It takes her a moment to skim over different bindings until she finds the odd, large bindings of the photobooks. They aren’t labeled but she remembered that her mother, in all her perfectionist glory, had them color coded by years. Y/N knew that vibrant purples, blues, and greens were from a period starting with her birth so that’s where she starts. She pulled out all of them, bundled them in her arms, and went to the couch. Vaguely does Y/N remember a time when she was always posing for pictures whether she wanted to or not, and while it wasn’t necessarily either of her parents taking the picture – someone was. Thomas, any bodyguard, her Nan, uncles, aunts, and cousins if they were all together. So there are plenty of pictures to sift through, almost an annoying amount. She thinks she’ll be in here for hours. 
Three photo albums in, she begins to lose hope. What was she even looking for? Some proof that Harry existed when she was little? Who was to say anyone had even taken a picture of them together in the first place? And for her parents to keep it, when one of them at the very least, was not interested in her knowing that he had existed in her life before a few months ago when he’d entered her flat, following close behind Niall? It was unlikely. 
She nibbles at her thumbnail, heaving a sigh and almost irately flipping through pages now when she sees it. 
When she sees him. 
If Y/N had looked through it any quicker she would have missed it. A picture at the park, two children stood beside the obnoxiously bright blue tunnel slides: one of them was her, in a frilly pink sundress that had large yellow flowers printed all over the front, and jelly shoes she has a vague memory of regretting because the mulch from the ground kept scratching her. She had a big, front toothless grin, her head over-exaggerated in its tilt and one of her hands were held up like she was waving. Her arm was wrapped around a boy, just a little taller than her, who had awful cargo shorts you could only get away with wearing at 9 and a green shirt with a FIFA logo. His hair was brown, cut short, his eyes were light, she could tell, and he had two dimples just as she remembered. Looking at this photo, she knew for sure. 
It was him. 
That fucking liar. 
She carefully slides the delicate paper from the plastic sheet and presses it off to the side, before continuing to flip through. One picture would be enough, she knew, but she wanted to build an arsenal of proof. He could try to explain away one picture, but not several. Not when she could tell the structure of his face, the way one side of his mouth has always pulled up higher when he smiled, the crinkles beside his eye when he grins. 
Y/N is conflicted, about whether to be happy or upset or whatever she was feeling. She was happy that she had been right this whole time. She was irritated because he’d been lying to her and her dad just lied straight to her face, but she wondered for what reason it was important that she didn’t know. And she was confused, because. . .well, where the fuck had he gone? From at least four of the photo albums, she finds around five photos from each of them, up until she was around 10. 
She’d worried a sore into the inside of her bottom lip biting at it with fretted teeth, and her forehead ached from the deep furrow she’d had the entire time she flicked through the albums. Y/N was ready to go home, but she knew she’d have to stay for a while longer. 
Just as she was sliding the pictures into her purse, zipping it closed, the door of the library opened. She tenses until she realizes it’s Niall, who squints his eyes, “What are you doing in here?” 
“Hiding and going down memory lane.” She dismisses him quickly, collecting the albums and walking them back to where she’d found them, “Have they started serving food yet? I’m fucking starving.” 
“Watch your mouth, your Nan could be around any corner. She’s quiet on her feet,” he playfully scolded her, not probing any further into her reasonings for being in here, “That’s why I came to get you, the caterers finally have everything set up and I knew you’d fuss if I ate without you.” 
She scoffed, “Thanks, and for the record, I don’t fuss, I hit.” 
He pouted his mouth, rubbing his arm where she’d swatted him earlier, “Don’t I know it.” 
                                                                    .                     .                   .
Y/N loses her nerve. 
For a while, she was riled up and ready for an argument (though she doubts Harry would actually argue with her); Harry was supposed to come to see her that night, so she had very little time to mentally prepare. But from that little time she did get, she’d prepared to let him walk in, sit down, then slam the pictures down on the table in front of him and demand answers. Like why he lied before, why her father lied today, and why he left in the first place. Does it matter? No, not necessarily, and she doesn’t think it would change how anything is right now, but at the end of the day, Y/N is nosy and confused and wants to know why everyone else is in on this and not her. Just like everything else in her life, she is kept in the dark, and she’d just been praising Harry for being the only one who ever kept her in the know, telling her more than anyone else. 
And she thinks if it had been anyone else, she probably would have. If she had looked through those albums and seen a photo of Niall with her, she would have immediately thrown it at him and asked him what the fuck it was about. 
Yet as soon as she saw Harry, who smiled brightly at her as he walked in, holding two strawberry shakes with a big grin on his face. . .she just couldn’t. 
“I brought you a treat,” he told her, kicking the door shut with his foot, “It’s a celebration shake. Do you feel relieved having done it and gotten it over with?” 
It almost felt silly, to think about doing it how she had planned. To show him the photos, like an I told you so! I’m right, you’re wrong, I did know you – it felt like a petulant way to approach the subject. And if there was a good reason that they didn’t want her to know. . .if there was any reason at all, really, why should she have to force his hand in telling her? To shove proof in his face, catch him off guard, guilt him into telling her. . .it just didn’t feel right. She wanted to know, and part of her felt she deserved to know, but maybe not like this. 
She cleared her throat, and smiled gently, “Yeah,” she told him, “It wasn’t too bad.” 
“See! I told you it’d be just fine,” he handed her the shake, “I’ll admit, I am jealous Niall got to go with you in that dress. It was adorable – you look so pretty when you’re all dressed up. Well, you’re pretty always, actually, but I do love dresses.” 
Y/N feels her face warm, mouth pulled into a frown, “Don’t tease me,” she grumbled, pulling the straw of the shake between her lips, but she moves her legs out of the way for him to sit with her on the couch. 
“I’m not teasing,” he defended himself, “Really, I think you’re pretty in whatever you feel comfortable in.” 
Y/N nudged him with her foot, and let the words, I knew you when I was little, I have pictures – fizzle out in her throat. She wants to know – so badly does she want to know, but she just can’t give a reason why she would need to know. And she guesses part of her is a little scared that it might change things between them. There were a lot of things Y/N wanted but that wasn’t one of them; she’d like to keep getting closer to him, to keep looking at him and feeling safe, for that bubble of warmth and comfort to arise in her belly every time he stepped through the door. 
She liked how things were now, so maybe she was okay not knowing. Not yet, at least. . .for a little while. 
“Where’s your head at, hm?” Harry hums low, sweet, and soft; he’s in the usual attire, though the white button-up was loosened by a few buttons and the cuff links were undone. His suit pants were navy blue today, and he treated them with little care, his foot pulled up onto the couch, rolling the leg of the trousers up. He is turned to face her, the hand on his phone lowering so she had his full attention, “You seem far away.” 
“Nowhere,” she lies easily, “I’m just sleepy.” 
Harry gives her a smile – it’s gentle but still big, and she’s suddenly acutely aware of how her heart races when she witnesses it, dimples and all, “Liarrr,” he sing-songs, but uses his free hand to squeeze her calf over the pajama pants she’s wearing, “You can tell me when you’re ready if you want to talk about it,” his voice sinks into her muscles, melts them, “I’ll wait for you. Until then, I reckon we should watch that show. . .the new one with the zombies everyone is talking about?” He would have a good reason, right? Harry wouldn’t just lie to her. . .Harry doesn’t just lie. 
Y/N nodded, her lips twitching up, “So you finally admit you want to see it,” she puffed a laugh from her chest, “After so vehemently denying that you’re interested in zombie shows at all!” 
“To be fair, a lot of them can be shit!” He whined, “But I’ve seen a lot of good reviews, and I heard it’s about some mind-controlling fungus which is a slight deviation from other versions of the story. And legally, you can’t be mean to me because I’m so sweet and brought you a shake.”  
She grabbed the remote, “You’re whiny.” 
“I reckon I deserve to be the whiny one sometimes, you get to be 24/7.” He retorted and Y/N gasped, mouth falling open. 
“I am not whiny!” 
“Oh? Was that a whine I just heard?” When she huffs at him and starts turning her body away from him, he chuckles low, stopping her from twisting her body completely by laying a hand on her bicep, “C’mon, c’mon, I’m kidding.” He scoots to the other end of the couch, “Here, do you want to stretch out? I’m sure your feet must hurt after being in those shoes all day.” 
Her response is to kick her feet up without hesitation, but she wiggles down so that they lay in his lap, “Will you rub them?” Because if he’s going to lie to her about knowing her and then suddenly return to her life as her bodyguard, she thinks she deserves a foot rub out of it at the very, absolute least. 
“Ah,” he places one of her throw pillows in his lap, before delicately laying her foot on top of it, “You just want me here to dote on you.” 
She nodded her head, “Correct.” 
“Brat,” he digs his thumb into the sole of her foot anyway, just above her heel, “Get the show started or I’ll start tickling.” 
Because it’s easy with Harry – it’s always been easy with Harry and that’s what she liked. 
Why make it difficult? 
Why bring it up? 
                                                                 .                             .                           .
The days go on as normal; eventually, they lessen their stringent rules on where she can and cannot go. It’s only a little bit, but she and Harry can finally return to their art classes, where Y/N found the excuse for their absence was they had taken a trip to Spain (she lies about how amazing the rooftop tour of Santiago de Compostela Cathedral is beautiful knowing full well she didn’t even know you could get tours on the rooftop).  They returned just in time for a color theory lesson that goes from a fun grade school color wheel to something that melted her brain. By the end of it, it had turned into something so complex, even Harry seemed genuinely astonished by how deep into it they went. 
“We’ll have to practice later,” he promised, “‘cos I’m going to forget everything she said after the first hour.” 
Y/N goes to a brunch with her Nan, who – albeit reluctantly – lets Harry attend. Thomas was still hyper-aware of any possible danger (as he always is) and thought it would be dangerous for not only Y/N but her Nan (who has made plenty of enemies in her day) to be alone out and about together. Harry offered to sit at a separate table once he noticed her Nan’s displeasure but she waved the idea away, “Why should you be punished because I disagree with how they’re doing things? You’ll sit with us.” 
If Y/N looked back on it, she thinks that Grandma always had a problem with how they raised Y/N. Very, very, very vaguely she has an indistinct and fuzzy memory of her scolding Y/N’s father, “This is no life to live,” she told him, “To force her in this house! To not even let her attend school? She needs friends outside of her cousins and a life. I didn’t raise you to be so stupid.” And Y/N thinks, relatively close to that, she’d been enrolled in a private school (though she moved around quite a bit following that). 
It was nice to spend time with her, and she thinks – even without trying – Harry had managed to woo her Nan in about five minutes. If she let herself indulge, even just for a second, it was like having her boyfriend meet her family but she wipes the thought away as soon as it arises. 
Because she’s been having a lot of thoughts like that; she’d begun labeling them her “senseless, delusional” moments where she even for a second considered having feelings for Harry. They started out infrequently, only every so often (especially when he did something particularly sweet) but with time they grew more recurrent. It seemed, like some sort of sick twist, that they came on stronger once she realized that she knew him from when they were little. 
Which, Y/N thinks if she were more emotionally sound, the opposite would have occurred. She should be put off and repelled, but instead, she finds herself feeling more and more fond. 
Now she notices things that she hadn’t before. All the little idiosyncrasies of hers that he remembered from childhood: how she liked jelly candies and her favorite flavors, the board games she used to play, the stuffies she always liked, the way she hated the sound of nails on a holographic picture, how she thinks the sandwich just tastes better when it’s cut diagonally. They were things that, for whatever reason, she never questioned why he knew before but now that she thought about it, it would be incredibly odd had he known them without knowing her. 
And over time she just realizes that he brings the kind of comfort that only a childhood friend could bring. Familiarity, a tender warmth, the idea that someone still likes you even as you’ve grown and changed into the person you are today. Fundamentally, their relationship was always somewhat forced she guesses – their parents (or his parents and Thomas) probably arranged the first play date. And Thomas definitely arranged for him to be her bodyguard. They were compelled to be in the same space together, but enjoying their time with each other. . .that was them. Harry laughing at her jokes, the feeling that fizzles in her veins when his cheeks get pink, how excited she is to see him when it’s his night with her, the borderline domestic relationship she’s developed with his cats – all of that wasn’t arranged. 
They were friends, Y/N truly believed that. They had been forever now, she guesses, if the decade-long gap in between was dissolved. 
Y/N thumbs through the photos when she’s in her room at night, gnawing at her bottom lip, a zoetrope of memories flickering through her brain. Some things she recalls, some things she doesn’t, and she recalls feelings more than she does conversations or scenarios. She was always happy, she knew that, and she always felt like a normal kid with him. She could tell him things and they could play and things were good and normal.
She found herself wanting to kiss him more every day, which is a bit of a problem. They still hadn’t spoken about the first, logically they should do that before having a second, but the want for it itches beneath her skin. Y/N’s certain he had caught her staring at his mouth several times, probably more than she would like to admit, but he had never really brought it up before. 
Until a random Thursday, at least, when she’d spent most of the day drawing and perfecting different sketches for the first round of stickers (she does a lot of random original cutesy drawings, then some that involve different tv shows and movies – people like to buy cute versions of characters they like, Y/N knows that because she does it all the time). Harry started talking about. . .something, Y/N couldn’t remember, but what she did remember was how his mouth went from forming around the word “apples” to smirking. 
“You stare at my mouth an awful lot,” he taunted her, and Y/N. . .she was feeling more sensitive that day; less fiery than she usually was, so she tilted her head down and murmured an apology, “No, wait,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I was only kidding, Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize for anything.” 
When she hummed and made no move to look back at him, she felt careful fingers on her chin, guiding her face toward him, “C’mon, Darling, don’t hide. It’s okay! You can look at my mouth all you want, lord knows I’m always looking at yours.” 
Her face feels hot and she swallows thickly, “You’re looking at mine?” 
“Mhm,” he hesitated for a moment, before the pad of his thumb grazed over her bottom lip, “More than I’d like to admit.” 
“We could always,” she spoke against his petting thumb, “We could kiss again then if you want.” 
He leaned in, moments from smearing his mouth against hers, but there was a knock at the door. 
The pizza they ordered had come. 
That was the closest they’d been to kissing again, but once Harry went to answer the door and sign for the food the moment had left them. Y/N is flustered, warm in her face, and has zero nerve to return where they had left off so she nudges him with her foot when he sits back beside her and calls him a wimp when he fusses over it. Things go back to normal – the same as they usually were.
(It was only later that night when she was alone in her bed when she felt inconceivably horny, did she remember that her period was coming. The weeks leading up to it always left her insatiable, sensitive in both her feelings and touch, and if she snuck her hand between her thighs to the thought of kissing him again, well that’s her own problem.) 
The nightmares start to fade too, which is nice, though that means Harry spends less time in her room. He’d made a habit of sleeping beside her, or at least laying down near her until she fell asleep, and she’d always wake up the next morning alone. Though without fail, as soon as a dream seemed to sour, Harry was there at her side to wake her from it, always attentive, squeezing the shoulder he’d just been shaking, “S’just a dream, baby, you’re okay.” He’d calm her down, “Go back to bed.” 
“Thank you, nightmare killer,” she would murmur, tongue feeling heavy in her mouth, and Harry would laugh, and she’d fall back asleep. 
Things were nice, starting to feel a little normal again with the additive closeness she felt with Harry despite knowing what she did. She was starting to feel comfortable again, and not stuck inside all of the time, and she felt like she was getting somewhere with her drawings, growing closer and closer to being able to open her shop. 
And then, one night, Harry is waking her up frantically. 
Harry is not a frantic person – he is usually calm, collected, and measured. Y/N has never truly seen him in action but she’s sure he makes decisions with precision and tact that typically comes from years of experience, though she doesn’t think he’s been at this that long. He’s levelheaded and respectful and acts well under pressure – that makes him deadly. 
So to see him urging her awake, moving quickly, telling her to, “Get up, we need to leave.” Makes her adrenalin spike and panic drip from her ears. 
“What?” She was still foggy, disoriented – what time was it? Her clock says it’s three in the morning. 
“We need to go,” he is reaching beneath her bed, dragging out a bag – her “Go” bag, is what she always called it, something Thomas had instructed her to make even when she was little. It was a duffel of clothes, toiletries, and things that would take too long to grab in the event she needed to leave an area quickly. She’d only ever had to grab it once before when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember why. Though now that she thinks about it, it seemed like it might have been close to the time that Harry had disappeared.
She doesn’t check her go bag often, beyond replacing the toiletries that may have lived past their shelf date, so she was also surprised to see Harry pull a gun from it. A gasp leaves her mouth, she’s still moving too slowly, trying to catch up with what’s happening as he’s fitting it into the holster, “Wait, what? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” 
He’s zipping the bag up, “Bill was fired –” 
“What?” 
“- and it got ugly, he shot at Martha. There’s reason to believe he’s on his way here.” 
“But why –” 
“There’s no time to explain everything,” he threw the duffle over his shoulder, “We need to leave.” 
Her head is spinning, she knows she’s probably annoying him, but she can’t help but search for something to say, for a question to ask, to try and understand what was happening, if she was dreaming or not, if this was another nightmare, “What –” 
This time Harry cuts her off by taking her face in his hands – he was still gentle, but she could sense the urgency, “I will explain as soon as we’re safe, I promise you, baby, but right now we need to leave okay? Get your phone but turn off the location. We’ll go down the back stairwell to the parking garage.” She still seems hesitant, confused, but Harry runs a thumb over her cheek, “Do you trust me?” 
And she does. . .she trusts him implicity, more than she should, probably.   
“Yes.” 
“Good,” he replied quickly, “Come on.” 
1K notes · View notes
luviwon · 3 months
Text
박성훈 – alluring me
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word count: 2k
It seemed to be a loud night in the usual quiet town. The rain drops were slipping down your window, worsening the view outside. You were not much of a rain person, rather you enjoyed sunny mornings so you can be that "girl" they call. Either way, it wasn't morning in first place, so why would you care?
Oh, maybe because you were supposed to leave your apartment room in the following 20 minutes, your friend almost pulling up to pick you up. Nightclub she said. Now, whether you were going to enjoy it or not, you'll have to see, but one thing is sure: you weren't going to let yourself get drunk and end up in a stranger's bed by next morning.
At least not this way.
You were good to go. Makeup on point, clothes suiting your perfectly, golden jewellery around your neck cause you were expensive. The only thing that was missing was some cash and a hot boyfriend to bring with you. But you can't have everything in the world. At worst, you could ask Lia to lend you some money until next paycheck, so you could enjoy a cheap mocktail.
Making sure to lock the front door, you walked to the parking spot, waiting for your friend to arrive as well. Fortunately, it didn't take her too long, as the dark blue Audi made its way in, stopping in front of you. "Hi babe!" Lia shouted, as the car window went down, revealing a tipsy blondie.
"Are you drunk driving again?" you chuckled and walked around the car, getting the door open and stepping in. "Me? Drunk? Y/N! What are you talking about?" said she, while not being able to hide a hiccup. The two of you just laughed, while Lia drove out of the parking spot, speeding up on the lonely road. There was barely anyone, and most probably, there won't be any interesting person at the club either. It wasn't the biggest town, for sure, so there was no reason in trying to aim highly.
Luckily, the club wasn't so far, which made everything just perfect. Less likely to be engaged in an accident, given Lia's condition. The blondie parked, horribly though, in front of the ordinary looking nightclub, and threw her keys somewhere in the back. "Just in case I feel like car sex later, it's better to leave the car unlocked"
"You are crazy" you said, jokingly pushing her shoudler. Lia chuckled, leaving the car and inhaling the fresh air outside, and you did the same. Not long until your nose will only inhale cigarette smoke, so you may as well take advantage of the situation. The two of you stepped in, looking around for someone familiar. Yet it seemed like there was no one you would know.
You made it to the bar, barely being able to hear each other. The music was deafening, much louder than you've expected. Lia seemed to enjoy, though. Judging by her facial expression, she was going to leave you immediately for that hottie she noticed walking around. Typical. Shouldn't you do the same though?
"Hey, Lia, do you think you can give me some cash until Wednesday? Just so I don't awkwardly beg someone to buy me a drink"
"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry! I don't have anything on me. I'm counting on that sexy lad!" she said, pointing to a blonde guy, accompanied by another blonde person. Or was it the other she pointed at? They looked very similar, so no point in trying to guess. "Ah, thank you anyway" you smiled at her.
And just as thought, Lia slyly disappeared from the picture, seeing her next to the two guys, seductively touching their arms. She was so funny. But you couldn't deny, she was so good at this. Definitely better than you. You turned around to the barman, with doe eyes.
"What can I get you, young lady?"
"Anything on the house, please" you tried to make it less awkward by laughing away, elegantly, but it didn't seem to work. "I'm sorry, darling, drinks cost money. If you lack any, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can't get you anything"
"Loser," you mumbled.
You walked away in annoyance, fixing your relatively short denim skirt. Maybe not the best cloth choice for a night out, but it was so cute! So was your sleeveless white top, revealing a hot cleavage, put in the light by the delicate necklace.
"You alone, pretty girl?" you heard a sensual voice from your left side, turning your head to witness maybe one of the most beautiful faces you've ever seen before.
The guy was wearing a black button up shirt, with the first 3 unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up. His messy dark hair and rosy lips looked so perfect in contrast with his white skin. He was sitting down on a white sofa, resting his back on the piece of furniture, with his legs slightly opened.
"Depends on who asks"
That sounded better in your head, but after you let it aloud, you felt so stupid.
"Mhm," he groaned, looking down and chuckling. "I see, pretty girl"
The dark-haired guy grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, on the spare seat next to him. He smelt so fucking good. He had this kind of screaming sweet scent mixed with some vanilla. Closer now, you could analyse his face so much better. His dark eyes were shining in the multicolour club lights, and his skin was so smooth, at least it looked like it. You didn't dare to touch it.
"What does the pretty girl like to drink?"
"A mocktail would be perfect for me"
He softly giggled at your answer, as his left hand grabbed your chin and turned you closer to him, making eye contact. There they were again, his blinding eyes. "We both know you will get drunk on me later, so what about you start getting yourself ready with a nice set of shots for an even nicer doll?"
You gulped, taken aback by the tension he created. He was so much for it. And the closer he got, the more you got high on his perfume. It was so addictive. Where the hell did he come from? A fairytale? He was much too perfect for this fucked up world.
"I guess that works too" you answered, pulling your skirt down while not breaking the eye contact.
He looked down, sensing your movement. "Don't worry princess, you are alright" his hand was now touching your bare calf, going up your leg at a slow pace, making his way to your outer thigh. His touch made you tremble, it felt so wrong but so good at the same time. Where was the promise you made before you left? Probably somewhere lost, as the guy's hand went up to invading your personal space way too much now.
"I don't thin-"
"You don't think what?" he interrupted you promptly, his fingers teasing gently against the lingerie material. "Let the thinking to me, dollface. You just be good." Using his index and middle fingers, he kept going in circular motions. Before you knew it, you were on his lap, being aroused by his skillful fingers.
Your faces were so close, but he didn't kiss you. He only stared at your perfect looking face, whilst his fingers slipped under your panties, playfully touching your clit. You bit your lower lip in response, holding your moan back. He noticed that, and came closer to your lips. "You wish I'd kiss you so you could moan into my mouth, don't you?"
You gulped again, feeling his hot breath on your dry lips. He seemed like such a good kisser, but why didn't he want to show it to you? Because he was a tease. And he wanted you to earn in. Or shall you just make the next step? You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until your lips touched together. Fuck, even for the first second, he tasted so good. What was this man made out of?
You could feel the smile that was born on his face at your action. With his spare hand, the dark-haired guy held your back close to him. His fingers were now exploring more of you, teasing your entrance that was already dripping wet. He was making you so needy, and that was more than obvious. He kissed you hard, devouring your mouth, he seemed so famished, desiring you so much. You felt overwhelmed, and when you expected it least, both of his fingers were sliding inside you, making you whine inside his mouth, just as he previously said.
"Good girl" he tried to say in between kissing, keeping on being so hungry for your taste. His fingers went in and out your pussy, causing you to moan again. The hand that was supposed to hold your back went up to your hair and pulled it down, making you face the ceiling as his lips went down your neck "Now moan aloud too, princess"
Not that anyone could have heard you, the deafening music and the smoke around could barely make out what's going on around. But the simple thought of you getting caught was arousing him. Reason why his fingers moved faster inside you, and deeper, making you bite your lips hard. In response, he bit a tiny part of your neck, and pulled your hair harder. His fingers curled inside you, touching continously your G-spot, finally making you let a loud moan out.
He was so proud.
"Good girl, come for me" he whispered, pushing your head back up and going back to making out with you, while his fingers went back to deep and precise motions. His tongue played with yours in a little battle that he won. All the odds were on his side. He had you coming for him, the dark-haired guy not giving you a break. He needed to stop, you really couldn't handle all that. It was too much for you.
It seemed that he almost read your mind, cause as soon as you thought that, he took his fingers out, cleaning them by your chest, covering it in your liquor. "Tight" he said, biting your lips one more time before backing up. That felt so fucking good. You were so out of breath, leaning on his chest. You thought you shouldn't do this, given that he is not your boyfriend. Isn't it normal to just leave when this finishes?
But he was so warm, and you were so stupid.
"You come here often, darling?" he asked, going back to being a gentleman.
He lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke on the opposite side of you. He offered you one, but you refused. Not quite your thing. But he looked so sexy smoking that shit. So fine. So perfect. And you wish he could have been yours.
"Not really. But if you do, I will have a change of heart"
He chuckled, taking another smoke from the cigarette. Putting your hair behind your ear, he grabbed your cheek with two fingers and acted just like an old lady seeing her nephews. "You are so cute"
You still couldn't move on from what just happened. And even though he stopped a while ago, you could still feel the pleasure your pussy was in. So fucking good.
"What's your name?" you asked, hopeful.
"Does that change a thing? You don't need these details"
"I need you, though" that made him smile.
He gave you a short kiss, a last one, and got up from the white-leathered sofa. "I'm sorry, pretty girl, but I'd need to have you gone if you knew my name." He fixed his button up shirt, and threw the cigarette in the ashtray. You felt so disappointed. How could you let him go so easily?
"How about next Saturday at the same time, in the same place?" you tried shooting your shot one last time.
He didn't say a word. However, he winked at you and then made his way out. That was all you needed. Now, sitting alone in the lonely club, you were so lost in your thoughts. Wow. Just wow. Lia finally made her way to you, way too drunk, and fell next to you. She didn't say a word, but let a sigh out.
"Can you drive home, Y/N?"
But you couldn't answer. You were only thinking about him. Anyway,
how long until next week?
[ Hi loves! I found myself in a really shit financial situation and I need to save to be able to cover my apartment deposit, which is a lot. If you could and would want to, it would mean the world to me if you'd help me out with that, every penny counts honestly. Doesn't matter if it's £1, £10, more or less, it's the thought. Thank you for reading this message! For payment information, please just text me. Also, as a gift, I will write special content for you.]
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junnieverse · 6 months
Text
FUTURE SON IN LAW ➳ P. JONGSEONG
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➙ synopsis: you had been together with jay for a little over a year now and your parents were constantly on your case asking about this special boyfriend of yours. what you weren't expecting was how much they loved him, dare i say even more than you?
pairing: non idol!jay park x afab!reader
genre: fluff, strangers to lovers au
word count: 1.3k
request: " hiii! can i pls request jay meeting your parents for the first time? i just read your “jay as your bf” one and need more husband material jay!! <3 thank u babes :) "
warnings: not proofread
a/n: thanks for this sweet req anon, I think we can all agree husband material jay is the best there is.
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"I feel sick." you say opening up a window to get some fresh air into the car.
"You're more worried about today than I am love, breathe okay, everything is going to go well." jay tells you as he holds your one hand keeping the other on the steering wheel.
Today was d-day.
You were finally introducing your boyfriend Jay to your parents.
It's not that you didn't want your parents to meet your boyfriend, it's more so worrying because he would be the first guy you'd be formally introducing them to and not knowing how that could go scared you.
Now no man was perfect, you could attest to that, but Jay was sure damn near perfect in every aspect you could possibly imagine.
A dream come true some might even say.
So why were you losing your mind and growing more anxious the closer you got to the restaurant you were supposed to meet them.
"We're here. Don't overthink it, I don't want you going in there stressing yourself. You ready?" jay asks before kissing your forehead and you nod.
Being the first out of the car, he walks over to your side opening the door for you as he takes your hand in his getting out the car approaching the restaurant.
Walking in, you begin scanning the venue and spot your family around a large table conversing.
It was your niece's birthday today and so your sister thought a small intimate family dinner would be nice after the birthday party she had with friends during the day.
This also seemed like the perfect way to introduce your boyfriend to your family and most importantly, your parents.
Looking over to Jay once more, you smoothen out his suit as you adjust his tie, you couldn't believe you got to call this guy your boyfriend.
You clutch onto Jay's hand a little tighter and finally walk to the table and your six year old niece was the first to notice you both.
"Aunt (y/n)!" she screams excitedly as she ran over to you jumping into your arms.
"Hi sweetie, happy birthday." you tell her hugging her tightly.
"Thank you." she sweetly says still holding on to you not paying any mind to Jay solely focusing on you.
"Good evening everyone. I hope you don't mind, but I brought a very special date with me today." you say nervously as Jay politely bows before out stretching his hand to shake everyone's.
"I'm Jay Park. (Y/n)'s boyfriend." he formally introduces himself as your dad chokes on the glass of water he was drinking.
Since the formalities were now settled, the table seemed to have turned into an investigation room.
Your sister didn't really have much to say since she had already heard about Jay from you (he was all you spoke about) and she could tell how happy he made you and that was enough to approve of him in her books.
Your parents were nailing the poor guy with all these questions but Jay assured you that this was nothing and it was a 'rite of passage' to be questioned by their significant other's parents.
He made sure he answered all their questions to the best of his ability and he was seemingly doing well and they were all impressed.
"So when did you two meet?" your mom asks looking between the two of you.
"It was about a year ago. We have the same mutual friend and he thought we both had personalities that could really match and we would get along and decided to set us up during a group hang out." jay tells them smiling over at you.
It felt like all your worries were washing away with each question, all of them were answered impeccably and you should've known Jay would've handled this incredibly.
"So any plans after getting your degree?" your dad asks him.
"I want to go into culinary full time, I'm already working towards opening up my own restaurant one day and hopefully I can also get your blessing to marry your daughter around that time in the future too." he confidently says which seems to have left the entire table in shock, including you.
Marriage was a topic you and Jay had lightly went over in the past but hearing him say this for the first time made butterflies erupt in your stomach.
He was slowly but surely winning over your parents.
Your niece on the other hand may need a bit more convincing.
She moved from the seat beside her mom and forcefully sat between you and Jay because she wanted to 'sit next to her favourite person' (her mom was holding back tears at this point).
"Aunt (y/n), I think this man is stealing you away from me." she whispers in your ear pouting as she picked at her food.
"Oh no sweetie, my boyfriend Jay is a great person. Maybe if you talk to him a bit more you'll see how funny and cool he is and why I think you'll like him too." you laugh softly brushing a hair out of her face as she hesitantly nods.
"I love your daughter sir. She has definitely shown me a different perspective to life that I didn't notice before and now I can't imagine any part of my life without her." you overhear Jay say to your dad as he nods with his pokerface on display but you could see the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.
By the end of the night, it felt as if Jay was part of the family and he had known everyone for years now.
Taking in the sight of him with your niece almost brought tears to your eyes too.
Her little hand was holding onto his pinky as she told him about how she wanted to be a rockstar when she grows up after Jay told her he could play the guitar.
This all felt like the perfect way to end the night.
"Oh honey, why didn't you introduce us to Jay sooner, he's amazing." your mother lighty hits your arm before squeezing you in a tight hug.
"I'm just glad you didn't bring around some druggie kid angel." your dad says leaving a kiss on your forehead before hugging you as well.
"I didn't know how either of you would react or how this relationship would go so I didn't didn't to introduce him too early." you tell them looking down.
"If you break up I'm coming for you, not him. He is so in love with you that he might as well tattoo it across his forehead." your sister chimes in watching her daughter still with Jay as she laughed at a joke he made.
"Don't say it too loud, he might actually hear you and do it. And I do not plan on breaking up, I can't lose Jay." you jokingly say before adding in that last part.
Meeting your family went way better than you had expected and all that relief seeped in as you sat in Jay's car after saying goodbye to your family.
"See I told you everything would go well." jay says and you only nod accepting defeat that you stressed over nothing and that Jay was right.
"Hate to say it but I think they like you more than me. You're their future son in law in their eyes now." you admit feeling betrayed by your own family.
"Well I'm just glad that they like me. They have to since I'm in love with their daughter." he says.
He holds onto your hand kissing the back of your palm and you felt yourself falling in love with Jay all over again.
"Thank you." you say to him giving him a tight hug over the seat as he hugs you back rubbing your back gently.
"For what love?" he asks chuckling at your sudden behaviour.
"Everything really. I just appreciate you." you admit letting out a sigh.
"Well I appreciate you too. How about we go home now and have a movie marathon date, I'll make you whatever you want." he suggests and you laugh softly.
"How can I not marry you when you're this amazing, husband material at its finest. You better put a ring on it Jongseong."
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321 notes · View notes
scar-lie · 1 month
Text
Omega Pt. 10 (Natasha}
Summary : Discovery why Omegas died after breaking the bond
Pairing : Alpha ! Natasha Romanoff x Omega ! Reader
Warning : nothing I guess
Word count : 1,024
{OMEGA PT. 9} {OMEGA PT. 10} {OMEGA PT. 11}
No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.
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"So, it seems everything is perfectly fine; all the test results come back normal, but her body is probably adjusting to the medications that we're giving her, which explains why she's still weak and having shortness of breath, but overall, everything is fine,” Cho said, making the team sigh in relief.
While everyone is relieved, you're fighting for consciousness. You're asleep, but you could hear their muffled voice, and you can't move your limbs. All that makes you cry, prying that no one will hurt you.
“Wait, Y/N’s crying? ”Pepper frowns seeing your single tear run down following a few tears, making everybody look at you.
“Is she awake? ”Natasha asked, worried that you're feeling helpless and all you could do is cry.
“It's probably the sedative; it's wearing off.” Cho, look around, seeing everybody surrounding you.
“I think it's best if we could give her more space when she wakes up; we don't want to overwhelm her.” Everyone agreed. Some sat on the couch, some needed to leave because they got a call for an emergency mission, and some stayed standing, not far but not too close.
And since one of your pups keeps crying, Pepper takes him in her arms, lulling him to sleep while singing a lullaby while the other one is peacefully sleeping.
You groan and slowly gain your strength until you open your eyes, looking around, getting scared, and feeling helpless by the number of them around you—6 to be exact—but you're no match for them all. Your eyes went wide, and your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach when you saw Pepper holding on to your pups.
"No, please... do-don’t take him,” you plead, sitting down on the bed. The distress quickly overwhelms Wanda, so she cautiously approaches you, showing you her hands.
“Hey, hey, no one's taking them from you, Y/N/N, I swear we're your family; we will never do such a thing,” Wanda softly said, but your eyes never leave your pup.
“My pups,” you whisper, so Pepper walks towards you with a small smile, followed by Yelena, who took your other son to show you, and then the nurse carefully rolls the incubator next to you, making you tear up.
“He's such an angel, a crying baby, but he's cute,” Pepper whispered, handing you the pups, and then Yelena sat beside you.
“And he's a good one, always sleeping, and such a bubbly baby boy, just like that munchkin,” Yelena shows you, making you tear up while admiring them.
“And here's she; she has some complications, but overall, she's fine; she just needs to be monitored.” Yelena points to the side, making you look at your daughter.
You gulp, afraid to see your daughter in such a condition, but you scooch over the edge of the bed, winching in pain.
“Careful, you're not fully healed,” Cho warned you, but you didn't budget. Sure, you're lowering your walls, but you keep your guard up in case one of them surges forward and harms you and your pups.
Sure, you still haven't gotten your strength back; you can barely move around, but that doesn't mean you will not fight them; you would rather die fighting than let things happen.
The interaction melted the teams hearts but not Natasha; it broke her heart just by the thought of you getting worried that everyone would hurt you or the pups, making her think that something is not right.
So she shook her head, biting her lips and getting some fresh air, going to the rooftop to clear her mind and a little quiet place to think, plus the fresh air lightly blowing through her face makes herself calm, relaxing her muscles while looking at the beautiful view of the city that slowly succumbs to the night fall, making the lights of everything in the window glow, adding to the beauty.
On the other side, everyone is afraid and gets panicked when your breathing is getting slower and slower, your monitor shows that your body is in distress, and the beeping sounds are slowly dying.
“Get everyone; you can get here ASAP,” Cho shouted to the nurse, who ran out to seek some help; she didn't know what's going on, checking every single sign of what could be the cause of bradycardia.
In every second, you can feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and your body feels like you're carrying a boulder until you lose consciousness while looking at your precious pups.
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Someone had to bag you; your shallow breath makes everybody worried, even Cho, who gave you some shots of medicine, and when Natasha came back, everybody’s eyes were on her.
“It's Y/N,” Pepper stated, and Natasha quickly looked at you, but something changed again, and this makes Cho wonder when suddenly your heart rate is slowly getting back to normal.
“Oh my god...” Cho whispered, standing on the chair, pen and paper on the table in front of her.
“What? ”Yelena asked anxiously
“Stop bagging her and Natasha; can you come closer to Y/N? ”Natasha had a frown on her face but obeyed. Your heart rate went up, but still not enough to meet the normal vitals.
“And can you leave the room for a few seconds, please? ”Natasha stopped on her track and saw that Cho had something in her mind that needed to be confirmed, so she left and ayaw your room a few feet.
“And in the room again,” and that's when Cho figures it out, so she quickly writes something in her notebook, making the team wonder what she discovers.
“I get now; that's why Omega has been dying all these years,” she whispered, smiling to herself at the new discovery.
“Well? What is it? ”Tony asked, walking forward and anxiously waiting to see if the formula that they’ve been working on is working.
“It's all about the scent or the presence...”
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1-ker0sene-1 · 2 months
Note
❤️❤️ah, I didn't want to dump requests into your inbox in case it came off as "cater more to ME" but if you do take requests.. I've been struggling with serious fatigue and migraines lately (Dr and I have no idea what's causing it) so I've had a hard time dragging myself out of bed and taking care of myself. Which of the cod boys do you think would find ways to help? I think Simon would be gentle but absolute in his caretaking. I bet he would hold me upright in the shower, whereas Gaz would share a bubble bath and order takeout :')
{I hope you get some answers soon anon! And don't be worried about sending requests! I love getting them ♥️}
Personally, I think each of the 141 would have similar yet subtly different approaches.
Price
John is a worrier. Always has been. The man exudes stress when it comes to the ones he loves, especially when they're in pain. He'll bundle you up in some blankets, carry you to the couch and turn down the lights. Letting you rest comfortably.
Without taking his eyes off you, he's probably in the kitchen talking to your doctor on the phone. He wants to know how to help you, not having answers frustrates him.
The rest of the time is about you. He'll get you some migraine medication. He's definitely making you eat a lot of fruit because he read somewhere it helps with headaches. He doesn't want to toss you around, just trying to keep you comfortable.
He also will not tolerate if you feel guilty about being so exhausted.
"You just don't feel good love.. don't you worry about a thing. Just let me take care of you. It's what you deserve."
Gaz
Kyle, dear Lord, will take such good care of you. Like it's second nature. From the moment you wake up, you're held close in his arms. As soon as you stir in pain he'll ask what's going on, pressing kisses to your skin.
You're gonna be pampered the entire day. The room is only lit by some candles, he'll carry you from bed to a warm bath. Stripping down and joining you as well. You won't have to lift a finger, not that he'll let you anyways- definitely not an excuse to wash and play with your hair.
He'll wave you off anytime you say that you feel like you're burdening him.
"You know I like takin' care of you anyways"
He might leave to go get you medicine real quick, probably sits in the tea aisle as well- trying to find something that helps with migraines.
Soap
Johnny, the sweet bastard, kinda takes this to have a lazy day with you. If anyone, he's the one ordering take out with you. Arms wrapped around your waist, kissing on your stomach and snuggling into you.
"my poor wee lass.."
Cooing and doting after you. You aren't getting up even if you want to. He's pulling you right back in bed, whining to not over exert yourself.
"You tell me what you need hen."
And you somewhat have to, he doesn't really know exactly what to do. But he'll do anything you ask of him. Get your medication, get you some water, practically spoon feeds you. Opens the windows to get you some fresh air. If you're cold, well he's right there to warm you up.
Ghost
Simon is more of a watch dog. At your side constantly. If you want up and around, he won't stop you. But the moment you look too exhausted, or wince from your migraine? You're getting scooped up and taken back to bed. He just wants what's best for you.
Anon is right about the shower. He'll hold you up against him, lips pressed to your forehead. Supporting you against his body, mumbling sweet words into your skin as he washes you up. Swaying the both of you slightly together with a deep rumbling hum.
"I'm right here doll.. I'm not leaving ya.."
He mutters. Simon can sometimes be a hard ass, even in your relationship. But when you're hurting like this? He can't have a mean bone in his body. Every little thing you do, you're getting so much praise for it. He knows how tired you are, you're doing so well.
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slasher-male-wife · 9 months
Text
Horror characters taking care of their sick s/o
I'm in my sick Victorian boy era. I'm being dramatic because I have a mild case of the flu. I need to write something to keep myself sane so why not write for some characters I haven't written about for awhile.
Includes: Amanda Young, Adam Faulkner, Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, and Pyramid head
Warnings: Reader is sick, some of these characters aren't super smart, mentions of vomit and medication, vague talk of cannibalism and violence
Amanda Young
Amanda has basic medical knowledge and when she sees you getting sick she's quick to get you to stay in bed and will be a little overbearing. She's been taking care of John for awhile and seeing her partner sick makes her very worried.
She's going to spend any free time she has taking care of you. She knows you're going to be fine but that's not going to stop her from becoming your personal nurse.
She wants to avoid using medication unless a doctor tells her to use them. She thinks because medication isn't working for John that must mean it won't really work for you.
She knows to keep some distance but she's still going to be around you and touch you. She might intentionally spend more time around you then get closer to Hoffman to try and get him sick.
She might talk to Lawrence about what she should be doing and your symptoms. If you know that she's a jigsaw apprentice she'll introduce you to him as her coworker. But if you don't she'll either bribe him into seeing you or just take his advice.
She is reminded of what happened at the gas house and if you're sick enough that you start to throw she'll need to leave the room and probably spend some time to compose herself. I strongly believe that what jigsaw did to her really messed her up but she denies it.
Adam Faulkner
Oh my god if he finds out you're sick I hope you're ready for him to try and help but honestly just make a fool of himself.
You're hopefully not living in his apartment anymore and depending on your temperature and the weather he's going to keep your bedroom window open because "fresh air helps".
He thinks that he doesn't have to keep space from you because you're dating and he probably ends up getting sick himself. But no matter how much you tell him to stay away so he doesn't get sick he won't listen.
While he's out working (probably for jigsaw) he'll leave out medication for you to take, food you can heat up or just eat cold, and probably gives you anything you need to stay entertained.
If you call him for anything he's dropping whatever he's doing to go help you. You have to literally tell him several times that he doesn't have to rush home and you can stay on your own while he works.
He probably doesn't have any insurance just by judging his apartment so unless you absolutely need to see a doctor he's going to be the one taking care of you.
Will Graham
His medical knowledge is better than some people in these head canons but it's still not the best. I feel like if it's anything than a mild case of the cold or the flu he's taking you to a doctor.
Probably looks up if human illnesses can transfer to dogs. Either way he's keeping his dogs away from you until you feel better.
Will not let you out of bed unless you're going to the bathroom. He deals with blood and guts for a living so dealing with someone who's sick is probably a vacation for him.
Will is going to try to keep Hannibal away from you while you're sick for so many reasons. But Hannibal is probably going to end up seeing you anyway because Will is going to cave.
If the weather and your health allows he's going to take you outside for fresh air like you're a consumption patient from 1912. He will let his dogs around you if you're outside.
Will guilt Jack into letting him stay home for a few days to take care of you. He is going to bring up everything Jack has ever done to him. "Hey Jack I need to stay home to take care of my partner. I know you'll let me take it off since you made me work while I had ensyphilitis."
Hannibal Lecter
He's a literal doctor but also a fucking weirdo so be careful. He'll still take good care of you but will also take the time to get into philosophical discussions with you while you're half asleep.
He refuses to give you anything store bought to eat. Will literally make crackers and break from scratch for you to eat. He'll lay off on the human meat until you're better.
Will not allow you to use one of his bowls as a "throw up bowl" You're using the bathroom to do so, he doesn't care if you accidentally vomit on his floors because he can clean the floor, but his bowls are too valuable.
He won't let you spend all day looking at screens. Hannibal will provide you with any kind of entertainment you want to get you off screens for awhile. He will get you whatever books you want or any other low energy activity.
Will insist on keeping your space clean. Will wash your sheets often and insists on giving you a bath, the temperature depending on if you have a fever or not.
He will keep a sort of distance from you but will also be near you. He will take precautions of course but he can't stop himself from spending time in your room, talking with you.
Pyramid head
He has little knowledge of human illnesses, because he's a demi god of sorts he never really gets sick. So when he sees you get cold sweats or start having a bad cough he's confused about why it's happening. '
You'll have to educate him on your condition and tell him what he needs to do to help you. I don't think there's any medication you can take in silent hill but he can probably find you something to help.
He also probably can't get sick so he doesn't have to worry about getting too close to you. If you try to pull away from him to hide your cough or sneeze he'll just pull you back. Even if he did get a cold from you he'd get over it pretty quickly.
He'll honestly want to be pretty touchy all the time even when you're not sick because he's never had human contact before. You'll probably have to explain to him that cuddling isn't the best thing when you have a fever.
He's going to try and get you as comfortable as possible while he's busy doing Pyramid Head stuff. It all depends on your condition and you'll have to explain to him what you need.
He also doesn't really understand germs so you'll have to explain them to him and why you need to keep yourself and your area clean and why you can't just throw up anywhere. After that he'll get you something to use for that then just throw it somewhere.
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rinbowaman · 7 months
Note
helloo this is my first time writing an anonymous thing or smth but can you write a scenario where heethan and readen are about to yk.. and readen suddenly ran away but heethan still catched her and gave her the most toe curling car yk..?
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Warnings: cat and mouse vibes, chasing, capturing, predator vs prey vibes, slight bit of non/dub con, very detailed smut, hint of rough smut, unprotected smut, breeding kinks, overstimulation, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, finger popping (you know what that means....) dom! heethan (what else?....ofc he'll be dom!) and sub! readen. There is a small audio bit in this, just of breathing but still.... (NSFW) nothing too exaggerated just..i wouldn't listen in public, at least not without headphones.
Also, thank you to those of you that donated to my ko-fi!!!! Just for that, I made this smut extra good, so i hope you guys like it. This one.....if you want the full effect, maybe get your favorite treat and read this at night in your bed. 😉 I put a little bit more time into this one to reflect my appreciation for the donations. Enjoy!
ko-fi account ♥️
"Tonight was fun."
"heh, yeah." smirking, he responds teasingly while he drives on, keeping his eyes on the long country road as night falls. You both spent the evening enjoying dinner and a movie, deciding to finish it off with some stargazing at your favorite spot, the quaint and charming farm that he took you after you shared your first night with him.
Pressing down the button, you roll down the window and stick your hand out, allowing the air speed through your fingers. It felt warm, relaxing, and massaged your skin as you waved them against the current flow.
Parking the car, he shuts it off and leaves his door open to allow the fresh air to come in. You did the same. Staring through the windshield, you found it hard to gain a wide view of the stars, so you suggested sitting atop the hood, still warm from the running engine.
You both lay, side by side, and admired the cast of twinkling glimmers that sparked the dark canvas of the black horizon. There were even shooting stars, all of which you made your wishes, and hoped that someday they'd be granted.
"What did you wish for?" he calmly asks as he continues to stare off into the abysmal sky, resting his head on his hands.
"I can't tell you." you chuckled out. "It won't come true."
"That's a myth. Tell me." he smirks out. "Besides, we both know that any wish you make, i'm the one that's going to make it come true for you."
You reluctantly nodded, and opened up wholeheartedly as you elaborate the details of your wish. "I wished to be loved no matter what."
Turning his head to the side, he gives you a perturbed look as he tells you in his deep voice. "That goes without question. I'm always going to love you no matter what."
"yeah but...."
"but? there's a but? what the...." sitting up, he jolts out of his relaxed position and looks down as you shift your position and prop yourself on your elbows.
"I just...just in case you ever stopped loving me....I hope that someone will continue to love me. that's all."
".......that’s….” with a stern gaze forming in his eyes, he huffs out, “that won't happen. It’s impossible, I'll always love you."
"I know...but just in case-"
"But nothing!....what the Hell is wrong with you?" his tone started to reflect a flare of offense and annoyance. You gazed at him with a harmless countenance, you weren't trying to go out of your way to get him mad, you were just being honest. However, seeing the chaotic glare in his eye caused you to start shifting away, inching towards the outer edge of the hood, preparing to run. Sitting up and leaning against his palms, his eyes move around, and he notes your retracted movement in the opposite direction. Licking his lips and furrowing his brows, he issues a slight nod, antagonizing you as he speaks.
"Trying to get away?"
You gasped out with wide eyes. His words triggered you to make your move, the sudden flash of fear pinged you when you saw the malice in his eyes. Immediately, you rushed out and started to run out into the open field. You didn't know where you were running to, or where to go, all that you needed to know was that he was angry and you had to get away. Trailing through the wide open pasture, you barely made any distance before you felt the harsh grip on your wrist and a pull on your waist. 
"Ah! Let go!"
Flinging you around, maintaining his hold, he drags you back into the car, nearly tossing you in the backseat. You desperately tried to open the door closest to you, but forgot that he had child lock features installed so that moments such as this, you wouldn't get away.
"Come here you fucking…!" he darkly issues as he grabs onto your arms, taking advantage of how your floral mini dress rose up to your upper thighs, revealing more skin, and allowing him easy access to the spot that would bring your will down, and break you.
"Stop! Heeseung I didn't mean anything by it! Why are you doing this?!" you yelp out, trying to push his hand away as he drags it against your thigh, going upwards and under the hem of your dress, while the other firmly loops over your waist, and locks on to your opposite wrist.
"Oh baby....you think after all that, you have the right to ask such a stupid question?.....OBVIOUSLY....i must not be showing you enough love...or making my love well known for you to think that i would ever stop loving you. hm?" he taunts out as he slaps your hand away and shoves his own in between your legs, all the while giving you a harsh stare.
Gripping on to your delicate panties, he feeds his fingertips through the mesh of the damask lace pattern, and begins to tear it to shreds, leaving tattered bits and pieces to pitifully drape around your right thigh. From there, it all went downhill.
First, he shoots his hand up and immediately penetrates your womanhood, using his two main fingers. It stung and was quite painful initially, yet immediately transitioned to a throbbing sense of pleasure as he thrusted them in and out slowly, causing you to grow moist. Taking his time to stroke them repeatedly, secreting the moisture of pleasure and pain mixed together, he pops his fingers out, reinserts, and repeats. As they nested inside your gripping walls, he waves them up and down, emitting a faint sense of pressure and relief as he pushes then upwards, massaging your walls before retracting them back down. 
"Ah! Stop! Stop that!" The feeling was oddly pleasing, yet he took out his frustration as he harshly pressed against the softness of your interior muscles, sliding outwards, adding pressure towards the entrance and popping out when exiting. "Stop!!!" you screamed out, trying to wiggle your wrist free from his firm grasp, however, to no avail were you able to free yourself from his grasp. Maneuvering you to keep your thighs fully separated, he shifts legs to spread apart, using his kneecaps and thighs to guide you open, allowing him extended leverage to keep up with his performance.
He finally pauses, though it was obvious that it wasn't out of honoring your pleads. Because the second you felt his hand gripping your neck, you knew that he had other activities in mind, which he carried out....beautifully.
Swinging you over, he pins you on your back as he forcefully keeps you immobile. Rolling the top bit of your dress down, pulling the straps loose and exposing your breasts, he rolls the skirt upwards. The dress fitted you like a glove, and was made of a thin fabric that allowed  him to nicely coil it around your waist without any excess bulk to interfere in exposing your entry, leaving you nearly fully ready for him to take. Placing gentle kisses along your skin, he trails his lips down, starting with the center of your abdominal core, down to your belly button, and reaching the center of your pelvic muscles.
Gasping out, your body shoots up, chest high towards the sky, yet was pushed back down and restrained from any further movement as he maintained his grasp around your pretty little neck. "He-Heeseung!" you yelled out. You were beginning to feel your body succumbing to the effects of his harsh love, it was thrilling and sensational. So much, that you started to wave your hips up and down the closer he got towards your spot, yearning for more.
His gentle kisses leave a line of wet prints on your skin, that delicate sound of his tender pecks fills the car and you reach up, grabbing onto the seats, desperate to dig your fingers into anything while you bear the weight of his sexual thrill.
Reaching the most tender piece of you, he hovers over your clit with parted lips, but does not initiate physical contact...not yet. Instead, he exhales his hot breath to coat over your slit, the very tip of his nose grazes against you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back bends into a sharp arch, you dig yourself into the seat, head first, as you slur your moans. A slight bit of drool escapes the corner of your lips, all the while he continues to tease you and breathes out the hot vapors of his exhales onto your opening.
Flickering the tip of his tongue, he repeatedly taps it against your slit, at fast pace, occasionally twirling the very tip of it in circles against your clit. Starting off in tiny motions, he expands the width of his movements and slowly envelops your entire opening, the plush folds of skin including, and sucks it all in. The slight bit of pressure upon feeling him sucking on your entire womanhood was unlike anything you ever felt. The warmth of his saliva, the tapping of his tongue, and the softness of his cheek meshed into a beautiful melody of sensations.
Inserting his tongue in, you feel it slip inside and using the same circular motions, he smooths over your walls with repeated movement, massaging every interior inch of you.
Your hips buck up, and your thighs and rear cheeks begin to shake violently, you are barely able to catch your breath as they become shortened and increase in pace. Developing a hyper reaction, your blood pressure rises as you feel your heart soaring, as if it was about to burst out of your chest. A prickling tingle emerges at the bottom of your feet, while the throbbing numbness and vigorous pulsation of pleasure pounds your entire lower region. Choking out hitched gasps, you moaned out hysterically as he continued to show you his love.
Breaking slightly away, he admires your glazed womanhood under half lazy lids, before placing a soft and sweet kiss directly at the center, sending your mind out of this world. With the swipe of his tongue, he drags the tip upwards, and slowly trails it all the way up in between your breasts. Cupping the mounds in his hands, he softly tenderizes them with his tongue. He pelts them with his kisses, and pinches them with his nibbles. 
Leaving small marks of his affection in your skin, your chest becomes a colorful canvas that contains hues of purple, red, and pink by the time he finishes. With subtle bite marks, he licks over them, leaving moist kisses with drops of excess saliva to coat over each tooth print. Shooting up towards the nook of your neck, he buries his face in, latching on with his mouth as he commits to giving it the same treatment as your breasts had succumbed to. His hat peels off upon the bill pressing against your head and falls to the floor, allowing him to shove his face deeper against your skin. Moaning aloud, you slam your hands on his arms and grip for dear life upon feeling the swift motions of his tongue gliding over your skin. His hips join your movements and dips low into your groin, waving upwards as he slowly dry thrusts in between your legs. Twirling his fingers around the shredded bit of your lace panties that barely clung onto your thigh, he spirals the threaded pieces, toying with the fabric as he plays with it while he continues to dip into your nude cavity hard, and deep. 
Bucking your hips up against him, you break and admit defeat. No words were needed, just the simple gesture of your yearning was enough to trigger him to bring out the beast. Propping himself up, he lifts your frame and shifts your position once more, nearly flinging you atop as he holds onto you tightly, and guides you to straddle his lap. Spreading his legs wide, he pulls you in, chest to chest, face to face…
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Preparing for what was about to come, your thighs shake violently and you frantically grab onto his broad shoulders. He was already beginning to buck his hips, holding you down as he firmly squeezed onto the right cheek of your derriere. Flinging your head back, your hair draping down and blankets over his hand, you leave your throat exposed and dead center to his sight as you perform your own movements by grinding against his clothed member. How does it always come to this? How does he always have this effect on you? Knowing damn well that it all started with you running out of fear when he dispelled his psychotic gaze. Yet, as contradicting it may have seemed to others, there was something about it all that made you love it…love him. Even when he looked fearsome, demented, and just downright demonic, his touch and his physical nature towards you, was the complete opposite. There were times, where his murderous gaze scared you to no ends, but looking at you with those maniacal eyes….as he fucks you….kisses you…and tells you that he loves you to no boundaries….you wondered if there was something wrong with him…or if there was something wrong with you for enjoying it. Either way, you didn’t care, because the feeling was too good. The way his soft and dashing face could transition and switch to one that stabs your spirit, the stuff nightmares are made out of, yet his hands and love was desiring to give you pleasure, it all made you want to scream out at the top of your lungs. Nobody will ever understand, especially since that murderous tone in his face, when set on others, contained the intent on harming, destroying, and doing the most unthinkable to them…but when set on you?....It was the exact opposite. With you, the pain was always with pleasure, never to harm you. The bites always came with a kiss, to bring you back from the fear he instilled in you. The forceful restraints were paired with tender strokes, to gesture his desire to protect and shelter you from the world. His look…that psychotic, thrilling, and malicious glare in his eyes….always came with a gentle tone in his voice…to express his unconditional love for only you. 
Feeding his cock out of his trousers, he taps it against your folds and clit, slapping it hard and in repeated beats as he taunts you with his words. 
“You still need me to convince you?” tilting his head up, brushing his nose and lips against your throat, he speaks against your skin as he leaves tiny kisses in the center. You didn’t need any convincing. You knew…you always knew…but maybe, just a reminder wouldn’t hurt.
Nodding, you feel his lips smile against the underside of your chin as he chuckles. “Oh yeah?” he says with a deep….dark voice. “Let me make it clear to you then…” 
Shoving himself in, he was harsh and forceful in his entry, though it wasn’t called for considering he had you melting for more of his touch. But the roughness added more to his vigor than what you were prepared to take, yet was grateful to receive. The feel of his hands suddenly gripping your waist, pulling you down while he buries his face into your neck once more, you tilt your head further back as you feel him sliding in, inch by inch. The best had yet to come, but the delightfulness of that feeling when he was all the way in, and rested you on top of his groin, fully sealing your skin with his as he waves his hips against you. Keeping you seated on the base of his pelvis, he motions your hips to wave back and forth as he did the same, causing your skin to rub together, meshing the beads of sweat to formulate one harmonious concoction. After widening your entry with his movements, he digs his fingers into your skin, and with his firm hold around the narrow part of your waist, he slowly lifts you up. As you rise, you slowly feel the relief of his thickness exiting, but knew that this was only just the beginning. Little by little, the girth of his length narrows down, until just the very tip of his head barely exists between your plush folds….and then he brings you down. 
“AHHHHHH!!!!” 
Screaming out your moans, you swore you saw stars as he eradicates all sense of gentleness and slowness in his act. Now, everything was replaced with speed, finesses, passion, and intense ferocity as he combines the efforts of pulling you down, and raising your hips back up while he bucks his hips, violently thrusting into you. That raging peak of high hits your cavity as you feel the opening of your cavity pulsating, opening and closing around his shaft. Your walls push together, enclosing around his girth and clenching for dear life as he continues to penetrate, going in deeper and harder. He was so abrasive and crazy with his motions, yet you loved it. Relentlessly panting, you dig your fingers into his shoulders as you raise a hand and plaster your palm against the ceiling of the car. Bouncing away, your body drums out an image of intense pleasure as your breasts shake, your derriere trembles, and your hair remains levitated from the stirrings of his energy. Sucking on your neck, he remains latched on and continues to go harder and deeper, listening to the sounds of your whimpering and constant screams of pleasure, all sounding like music to his ears. 
HIs hands remain plastered on your skin, yet snake their way around your waist, onto your lower back, and down to the plumpness of your exposed derriere, where he squeezes his grab and subtly digs his fingers in. Using his newfound hold on you as leverage, he lifts your cheeks in unison, before mashing them back down and repeating, all in sync with his thrusting momentum. God, you loved it when he did that. You also loved it when he extended his thumbs, and stroked your skin as he continued to squeeze your cheeks harder, just like he was doing right now. Or when he picked up the pace, and went faster, harder, and thrusted in deeper, just like he was doing…right now. You also loved it, when he kept going…and going…and going…and finally, that sharp, tingling sense below your belly button explodes and your opening dilates violently around his throbbing cock as he continues to thrust, squelching all the moisture that secretes from your body and creates the fine, clear foam and thick creamy mess that sticks to your skin and rings around his shaft. Your toes curl, your fingers lose feeling and your nerves feel the shattering effect of fireworks as the numbness comes and goes, and all the blood rushes through your body. Choking on your gasps, you moan and whimper as he continues to thrust, despite you already releasing, because it wasn’t over yet.
Thrusting and grinding into you, he keeps up and never loses his momentum. Pumping into you over and over again, you felt his fingers digging in, his hands shake in their grip, and his breathing escalates. Tapping into your soft spot, he thrusts faster and faster, his breathing grows in sync with his pending release...
“Oh fuck…come here!” Wrapping his arm around your lower back, he brings you closer as he leans forward and shoves his face into your breasts and groans loudly as he pins you down, grinding his groin against you while fully resting his cock inside. Gasping out his deep voice onto your areola, his shaft pulsates against your walls, groaning in sync with each load he shoots out. Calming himself, his breathing starts to relax as he gently licks and sucks on your breasts; rubbing your soft skin with his hands while he keeps you steady, warming and comforting his member as he remains inside you. He doesn’t stop grinding, he keeps it going, slowly and deeply, until finally, he’s empty. Everything he had, he gave to you, and seals it by keeping you stuffed with his muscle until he knows that his essence is going to remain and not ooze out. Embracing you, he shoots a hand up your back, and delicately grabs onto the back of your neck. Gently tilting your head to the side, he pulls your head down, and exposes the soft spot beneath your ear, where he latches on and sucks the skin in, drifting off to sleep…just a small nap to recuperate before he takes you back to the frat house. Who knows, maybe he’ll be ready to convince you some more, after all, you did make a wish to be loved, no matter what. Fortunately for you, he’s more than willing to make that wish come true. 
Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 
☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow
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blackbat05 · 11 months
Text
Thief
Rick Flag x Reader
Plot: The weather hasn’t done any favors, leaving you out of clothes. Thankfully, you know where you could grab some in case of an emergency.
Genre: PG-13 (Shared clothes trope)
A/N: I’m sorry if this was so brief and not as well written🥲 I realized I haven’t wrote Rick in a while and it proves because this was sitting in my draft for a good 3 weeks? Final semester so many things were going on. Still hope you enjoy it!
Yes, the yellow shirt makes an appearance😩
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Sweating buckets, you stumbled into the shared apartment. Making a beeline for the fridge, you grab a bottle of water, gulping down the liquid like it’s your lifeline.
Curse the fickle minded weather. You swore the weather forecast saying something about breezy winds. It didn’t say anything about a blistering hot morning.
You immediately made your way to the showers once you were sure you could properly stand and not collapse midway.
Shortly after, you stepped out of the shower, satisfied with the cooling sensation lingering on your skin. Opening your closet to retrieve fresh clothes, you realize one problem…
You were out of tops.
Of course. With the unpredictable weather, you finally managed to get your clothes out to dry without having to worry about the torrential rain. Your friends around you convinced you to just get a dryer or head to the laundromat but you were dead set on not having to spend more money than you already were. So natural drying it was.
You racked your head for a solution. Sure, you would have been contended lounging around naked but the windows were too close to the building opposite your apartment and you had intention of jeopardizing you modesty with creeps these days.
An idea lights in your head. Of course! Why didn’t you think of that. You opened Rick’s part of the cabinet, pulling out a yellow shirt. Slipping it through your head, you were glad for the new soap powder you had bought just last week for the smell had mixed nicely with Rick’s scent. As his shirt had covered you nicely, you decided to opt for no shorts enjoying the cool air on your legs.
It felt as if like he was hugging you from behind while you went around your daily tasks. Heat long forgotten, you started to hum your favorite tunes, time ticking away.
The door rattles slightly before revealing Rick with a couple of brown bags in each hand. You don’t seem to notice him as you focused on making breakfast for the two of you.
His eyes can’t help but to roam your figure, specifically what you were wearing. Rick recognized that blindingly bright yellow shirt from anywhere. Honestly, it only reminded him of unsavory memories but when you wore it, the distaste for it somehow disappeared.
“Hey baby.” Rick gently calls out so as to not alarm you. You turn around, spatula in one hand and an infectious smile on your face. Now that you were facing him, Rick feels a flutter in his chest seeing how effortlessly elegant you looked despite the casual home wear.
“You’re back!” You made sure the stove was switched off before making a beeline to the counter where Rick was sitting. “Did you get everything on the list?”
Rick nods proudly. “And I figured you could do with some ice cream especially after that run.”
His brain momentarily short circuits as you give a bone crushing hug, feeling your skin exposed by the lack of shorts press against his own.
“You’re the best! What would I do without you.” An arm around Rick’s neck, you rummage the shopping bags with your free hand only to be stopped abruptly by him. You give him a puzzled look. Rick takes a few steady breaths.
“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
You glanced down, holding the piece of fabric between your two fingers. “Oh… this?” You carefully scanned his unreadable expression.
“Yeah, I didn’t have any fresh clothes so I kinda grabbed one from you… if you don’t like it I can change! I’m sure one of mine would have dried in this heat by now.”
Before you could ramble any further, Rick nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “Don’t, I love it.”
He wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him. “In fact, take this shirt. I want to see you wear it more often.”
Rick’s sudden straightforwardness leaves you blushing. Despite how long you had been together, Rick always made you feel like you were the prettiest woman in the world.
You gently pry yourself away from him, looking at his gaze that was dripping with honey. “Alright then,” you decided to feel a little cheeky today, “I’ll keep it! Don’t say that I’m a thief or something!”
He laughs. “Darlin? That’s exactly what you are. A thief to my clothes and my heart.”
Rick turns away from you, preparing to help you with breakfast. He can’t help but to grin, knowing very well that you were left agape at his smooth delivery.
You barely managed to pull yourself together, mumbling how you were going to fold the clean laundry since he was at the stove. As you leave the kitchen, Rick can’t help but to stare at your thin underwear that was covered by his large shirt.
Yeah, he’ll get more of those darned shirts if he had to.
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shadowlali · 5 months
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Alejandro is a huuuge "mi vida" truther he just looks the part while rudy looks like a "paloma" kinda guy. Like you can call him and he'd go, "¿sí, paloma?" hsjwjsnsj while alengives off the vibe that he'll call out "MI VIDA" from the top of the staircase if you aren't in bed with him yet
mi vida, mi paloma - part I
COD - Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader (Part I) | Rudy Parra x fem!reader (Part II)
[18+] wc: ~900 masterlist
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warnings: mostly SFW (but still marking it as 18+ just in case), some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance, Alejandro is taller than reader, Alejandro's shirts fit reader oversized, pet names (mi vida, nena), let me know if i forgot anything a/n: thank you for this sweet request nonnie! i split up Rudy's portion in a separate post linked above (it is two separate stories). hope you enjoy!
It’s past midnight and you have messed up another batch of pan de muerto. A fool-proof recipe and method that you’ve used many times before is now causing you problems. Alejandro’s family is coming over to visit during the weekend and you promised his mom you would have this sweet bread ready for her to try. With the weekend only a few days away and the dough falling apart in your hands you begin to panic. 
The once clean kitchen is now a mess with orange zest and flour covering the counter. It’s warm and stuffy in the kitchen since the oven has been on for a few hours. You spin around in a circle, unsure of what to do next. There’s pain in your back from leaning over the counter all afternoon and sweat accumulating on your hairline. You only become more overheated as it becomes difficult to breathe and think. 
“Mi vida,” Alejandro’s loud voice breaks through the brain fog, ”¿sigues en la cocina?” [Are you still in the kitchen?]
You don’t answer, too preoccupied with regulating your breathing. Alejandro calls out again and you hear his footsteps as he descends the stairs. Oh no, you think. I don’t want him to see me like this. Too late, he steps into the kitchen and his eyes widen slightly while looking at you. You feel horrible. He’s in his pajamas and you can tell he was sleeping from the indent of his pillow on his cheek. 
“Did I wake you?” You say to him in a small voice. 
“Dios– no. What’s wrong?” 
Alejandro quickly walks up to you and cups your jaw in his large hands. You try to hold up your sugar-covered hands to keep him away but he ignores you and immediately begins to massage his thumbs into your jaw. You can’t help it anymore and break down in tears. You’re over dramatic but Alejandro immediately envelopes you in a hug, keeping one hand on your lower back and the other cradling your head. 
“Shh, let it out. Aquí estoy, mi vida.” [I’m right here]
“I–I don’t, I don’t know what I’m–I’m doing wrong,” you hiccup, ”everything is falling apart.” 
You can’t even properly hug Alejandro back, not wanting to get his pajamas dirty from your hands. He places a kiss on your forehead and gives you another squeeze and spins you around towards the sink. He helps you wash your hands, scrubbing the soap into your fingers and palms before holding them under the faucet. Alejandro grabs a clean dish towel and dries your hands, then makes you sit at one of the chairs by the kitchen counter. Once he’s made sure you’ve drunk an entire glass of water, he turns off the oven and opens the window by the sink to let fresh air in. 
“Stay here, and I’ll clean up–” 
“No, Alejandro it’s my mess I’ll–” 
“Nena, please,” his voice soft, ”let me do it, okay?”
You nod and watch as he cleans up the kitchen quickly and efficiently. Your tears have now stopped and your breathing returns to normal. A product of the military, Alejandro does everything with precise movements. In 15 minutes he’s wiped the counters clean and stored away the ingredients. Dishes are placed in the sink and the crumbly dough and burnt bread is thrown in the trash. You try to wash the dishes but Alejandro shakes his head and gently grabs your hand to lead you out of the kitchen, turning off the light on the way out. 
He leads you upstairs and into the bathroom where he hands you your toothbrush and toothpaste. As you brush your teeth, Alejandro turns on the shower to your favorite temperature. You feel his hands slip your shorts and panties down then pull off your shirt once you’ve rinsed your mouth. There’s no sexual undertones to his movements or actions, just a man helping the love of his life get ready for bed. 
Alejandro leads you into the shower and quickly strips off his own clothes the moment he sees you stumble from the exhaustion. He leans you on the shower wall, partly away from the water and helps you wash away the flour and sugar and sweat stuck to your skin. With shampoo in his hands, he massages your scalp, smiling softly as a satisfied moan leaves your lips. The conditioner and rest of the body wash is rinsed and Alejandro shuts off the water. 
A fluffy towel is wrapped around your body while he brings you one of his t-shirts that fit you like a dress. Alejandro grabs the blow dryer from under the sink to quickly dry your hair, then his. Once again grabbing your hand, he leads you out of the bathroom and over to the bed. 
“I’m sorr–” you begin to say. 
“No,” he starts,” there’s nothing to be sorry about.”
You get under the covers and almost moan from the comfort. 
“But I woke you up.” you say while he tugs you to his side. 
“I woke up because you weren’t next to me.” 
“What am I going to do about the bread?” 
“I’ll help you tomorrow, okay?” Alejandro presses a kiss to your mouth and brings your thigh over his waist. “Now go to sleep, mi vida.” 
You don’t respond, already drifting off to sleep with your nose pressed into his neck and your fingers interlocked with his. 
-
If you are interested in reading the second part with Rudy's fluff, here is the link
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toniiswrld · 1 month
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into you (l.at) TEASER
lee anton x fem reader | fluff | angst | smut | college!au | fake dating | ex friends to lovers | slowburn | mutual pining | anton is kind of an idiot.
teaser wc: 1.8k | full fic wc: est. 15k
RELEASE DATE: friday, march 1st
read full fic here
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this is all too much. anton used to like you? how come he never said anything? you excused yourself from his parents, and made your way to the kitchen. 
“hey mom, i’m a little tired so im gonna head upstairs.” you walk in to her drying and putting away dishes, while anton washes them. he looks over you, noticing the tone in your voice along with the look on your face wasn’t because of fatigue, but that something was wrong. 
“okay baby, let me know if you need anything.” she walks to the end of the kitchen island where you were standing, giving you a hug goodnight. “anton, why don't you go with y/n upstairs? it's getting late, and I can finish up in the kitchen.” she turns from you to look at the boy scrubbing away at a pot, and he stops dead in his tracks at her words. 
“i was just going to head back with my parents once we finished,” he starts, looking at your mom and then at you, not wanting to intrude. he did want to talk to you, but he didn’t want to be in your space if you didn't want him there. 
“don't be silly, anton! you two are a couple and are old enough now, i don't have to separate you two” she laughs, and you and anton just stare at each other awkwardly. you were going to tell her to let it go, but because of the unique situation you two were in it was probably the best idea to follow your moms orders. you motion for him to follow you, you both saying goodnight to your mom and then to his parents. you’re walking towards the stairs to go to your room, when anton tells you that he’ll be back to get his bag out of his car.
while he grabs his things, you make your way up to your room. You leave the door open, just in case anton doesn't remember which room was yours. walking to your window, you open it and stick your head out so you can get some fresh air.
what a night, you’re thinking to yourself. you need to calm down. with what happened on monday and what antons parents were telling you earlier, you were just too in your head. too much was happening too fast. why was this affecting you so much? and with that you hear footsteps coming into your room and then a door closing.
“are you alright? you looked a little flushed downstairs” the soft voice calls to you, and you know that its anton. 
you take a deep breath before turning to face him. “i'm fine. i am now, at least. I just kind of felt bad for lying right in my mom and your parents' faces. I had to get away from them” your voice is low while you speak, looking to the floor once again to avoid his eyes. he takes note of your body language, seeing that you’re a bit tense and awkward now but he doesn’t want to pry. 
“If you want i can sleep on the floor,” he’s placing his bag on the chair by your desk, grabbing something to change into for bed. 
“no, that's too uncomfortable. You can sleep on the bed” you say it in a way where its clear there's no room for debate, and he nods. 
anton would never admit it to you, but he found you severely intimidating. even when you two were younger, he was always intimidated by you. you carried yourself well, you didn’t take bullshit from anyone, always got your way, and you were stubborn. he was surprised your personalities didn't clash, he felt like you wouldn't want to be friends with someone like him. but truthfully that's what brought you two together. it was like fire and ice, you were the fire and he was the ice to cool you down.
but with being the ice, he was too scared to touch you in fear that he would melt. 
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another week passes by, and you feel like you were going insane. You don't know what it is, but every time you see anton, your heart starts racing, your face heats up along with the rest of your body. 
when he holds your hand or rests his hand on your thigh when you two were out with friends, you had to keep your composure to the best of your ability. especially when he would subconsciously  graze his thumb across the back of your hand, the action small and going unnoticed to the naked eye, but feeling too intimate for you and you would pull your hand away. 
the days that he would come over to your apartment or you would go to his dorm to hang out after classes, you found yourself feeling nervous. especially when you two were at your place, seeing him in your room and in your bed had you feeling like jelly. sometimes he would fall asleep before you, and you wouldn’t wake him up. It would be late, and you would feel bad for waking him up and making him go back to his dorm. you were comfortable enough around him anyways to tell him to move, and he never slept too close to you throughout those nights. a deep part of you wished he did, though. but you don't want to think about crossing that path yet. 
a few more days passed, and on wednesday, you went with him to his swim practice so you two could go back to your apartment and order takeout once he was finished. you brought a book with you since you didn’t know much about swimming, and you wanted to keep yourself occupied while you waited. 
an hour of practice goes by and lets just say, not a single page of the book you brought with you was read. not like you would be able to focus on reading anyways, seeing how he swam in the water was a lot more entertaining than you thought. along with how he looked when he pushed himself out of the water, full body on display. His broad shoulders, his toned arms and stomach, the droplets of water dripping from his hair down his back, the way he throws his head back to move his hair out of his face-
wait a damn minute.
you needed to leave, feeling hot suddenly. were you really sitting here thirsting over anton? Of course, you always found him attractive. you would be silly if you didn't. But you never had any thoughts about him. and you don't want right now, in the campus pool, to be where you start. You walk down the bleachers, trying to think of an excuse of why you’re leaving the building.
“y/n? you leaving?” anton catches you before you could find him, you turn around to see him speed walking towards you and you almost let out a giggle seeing he hasn't taken his goggles off.
“It’s just kind of humid in here. i'm gonna sit outside until you finish, okay?” you clutch your bag a bit tighter, him standing wet and shirtless in front of you is making you nervous. He’s peering down at you, smiling lightly before he lets you know he’ll be out in around 30 minutes. 
you nearly trip on your way out, feeling refreshed once you finally escape the pool room air.
did you really want to date anton? you told yourself you didn't before, but now you weren't so sure. he was the full package, everything you could ask for in a guy. so there was really nothing stopping you. but you two were friends. 
he also used to like you back in grade school. key word: used to. What if he completely got over you and wouldn’t even think about dating you now? this was a tough situation, and you don't know how much longer you could keep this up with repressed feelings. 
after 10 more minutes of overthinking, you can feel a presence behind you so you quickly turn your body to see anton right behind you. 
“you ready?” he’s looking down at you again, hair slightly covering his eyes because of the beanie he wore. his body once again covered up by the baggy hoodie along with the black sweatpants he wore. You would never be able to guess how built he really was under the clothes he chose to wear.
you realize you might be staring a little too hard for a little too long so you give him a nod. “yeah, let's go” and he’s taking you by the hand while you follow him to his car.
 he drives you two to the nearest food place you guys could agree on. you two agree on getting wings for tonight, and then make your way to your apartment. once you enter, you see sky sitting in the living room. she gives you a look only you two would be able to understand, with anton right behind you.
sky greets you two, and anton greets her back while you take off your shoes and then make your way into the kitchen. you grab two sodas, and walk out to where anton was standing. he was usually a bit awkward around your apartment if you weren’t telling him where to go, too scared that he would touch something he shouldn’t. 
following you to your room with the food, anton shuts the door softly behind him. the boy was already in comfortable clothes, taking a shower before he left the locker rooms after practice and made sure that he brought something he wouldn't be uncomfortable in. You were still wearing a pair of jeans and a cute crop top under a zip up hoodie. 
“i'm gonna change in the bathroom, you can pull the food out and put something on the tv,” you tell the boy sitting on your bed, and he hums in response while you leave the room. walking over to the bathroom down the hall, you take this time to relax yourself. 
you quickly change into a pair of shorts and an old tshirt, and you walk further down the hall to the living room to quickly talk to sky. 
“are you fucking him tonight? let me know so i can put in my headpho- ow!” you pinched her arm before she could finish her sentence.  
“i am not fucking him! i just came out here to tell you that i'm gonna talk to him about it”
“okay, but if there's a change of plans let me know!”
truthfully you were going to tell him about your feelings, just not tonight. maybe friday, you got invited to a party that sohee was throwing at his frat and you know that anton will be there too.
you walk back into your room now, seeing the food laid out and a movie ready for you as you get situated next to anton on your bed. he put on some action movie, which was a genre you both equally enjoyed. being around anton was comfortable. you two were able to sit in silence, laugh, and talk without any judgments. 
This could either end really good or really, really bad.
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A/N: excited to post this one, its not finished yet but its almost there! i got the idea for this fic from the proposal, one of my favorite movies. lmk what you guys think and if you want to be apart of the taglist :p
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testingthewatersss · 3 months
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Kissing Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. this one is actually pretty tame tbhBucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 3000 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI  Bucky can't stop thinking about kissing. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.
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Kissing is something that Bucky has been fixated on for months, now.
He’s been out of the grips of HYDRA and settled into the tower for just long enough for his mind to be wondering away from the terrors that have been plaguing him ever since he’d first been dragged out of a cryo tank with blood that was on fire, and an arm that wasn’t his own.
At first, the breaks from panic had been so far and few between that he’d quarantined himself in his newly renovated bedroom and only dared to let himself within one metre of Steve, in case he suddenly forgot where he was and caused some kind of irreparable damage, but then, he’d met her…
He hadn’t meant to. He’d made every effort to avoid running into Tony’s younger sister, but then, when he had finally decided to eat, he’d snuck out of his room at three am, and he’d found her, messy haired and sketching at the breakfast bar, he’d been too stunned to run, so he stayed, and despite his initial reservations she’d rapidly become one of the only people in the world that he genuinely trusts.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” she coos, beaming at him from across the counter, “you’re starring.”
He is starring— She’s beautiful, kind, and patient, and her face is being lit by the sunlight that is just starting to pour in through the big glass windows, and despite himself, he’s been utterly captivated by the way her mouth is curling around the white coffee mug she’s drinking from.
She quirks a brow, and Bucky feels his cheeks burn red and hot as he averts his gaze from her lips.
Kissing, isn’t something he gets to do, no matter how badly he might want to.
They’re alone in the room. It’s early, and, they both know they have a couple of hours until anyone else starts to surface.
Even though he’s blushing, Bucky can’t help but let his eyes roll back up to Y/N’s face, he settles a little when he notices how her attention isn’t on him, it’s split between a book that’s propped open on the counter top and the coffee she’s holding in one of her hands.
Her teeth tug at the corner of her mouth, and he finds himself imagining what it would be like to let his thumb hover against the pink-
Stop it, Barnes, he thinks sternly, starring at a dame without her knowin' is creepy enough.
She goes to take another drink, but this time her gaze catches his. She offers him a smile, but he misses it, suddenly overwhelmed with the horrible sensation of being caught doing something wrong; He blurts out a “Sorry” that he hopes might spare him a scolding, and he makes a point of averting his eyes, focusing intently on the grey, marble surface before him.
When a soft hand lands on his cheek, he jolts back, throwing the stool out from under himself and stumbling into the wall with a crash that only startles him further.
He can’t breathe- He can’t think- The sound of something breaking is fresh in the air, and all he knows is that he’s done something wrong, that something bad is coming—
“Hey…” she exhales, calm, “You’re okay, it’s just me, alright? I’m gonna come closer”
Just like that blue eyes are wide, and once again insanely focused on Y/N’s face, though his thoughts are significantly less pleasant, this time around -
“You’re alright, I promise”
Bucky barely hears her, with the way his ears are suddenly thrumming with his panicked pulse, but still, he forces a jerky, obedient nod as the woman takes a cautious step towards him.
“I’m sorry,” she tells him next, “That was my fault- I shouldn’t have touched ya’ without askin’-”
He’s panting, his eyes are wild, and Y/N can see the way that his metal hand is scratching at the smooth surface that he’s backed himself up against.
“Bucky” she calls, a little firmer now, “Can you take a deep breath for me?”
“Y-Yeah” he gasps, “Yeah — I- I… I’ll— I-” Don’t hurt me, he thinks desperately, I’ll do whatever you want—
A single deep breath is hardly much better than the way he’d been hyperventilating before, but, she thinks, It proves he's listening.
She almost wishes he wasn’t so focused on her, though, because the look on his face is devastating to see—
He’s barely blinking, so she offers him a comforting smile, before showing him both of her hands and taking another, slow, step towards him,
“It’s just me, okay?” she purrs, “Can I touch you, sweetheart? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise”
I’m not going to hurt you
He’s heard that before, more times than he can count, and it’s almost always been followed by cruelty. But this, this is Y/N, and she’s promising him, and she’s never lied to him before.
The nod he gives her is slight, but, definitely there so, she compromises by reaching out slowly, leaving a centimetre between his cheek and the skin of her open palm.
“It’s alright-” she whispers, seeing the conflicted crease in his brow, “-You’re fine.”
Bucky can feel the heat of her hand, he wants to lean in towards her, more than anything, but he’s so used to stillness meaning safety, that he decides not to risk it.
“Shit” he gulps, voice cracking with adrenaline, “I-I didn’t mean to— t-to break anythin’…”
Don’t be angry, he pleads internally, I can't even offer to pay to fix it, I could try, I guess-
Y/N throws a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed anything breaking. Not that it matters. The stool is still lying on the ground, at worst she thinks there might be a crack on the bar, from where he’s grabbed it in his panic, but she can have it's nothing that couldn't be fixed in a matter of hours. She just smiles as she looks back over at him, shaking her head and re-thinking her approach by opening her arms in invitation;
“You're fine-” she repeats, beaming as he starts to move, tentatively shuffling into her embrace, “-C’mere, Buck— did you have a rough night?”
The second he surrenders and lets his brow drop to Y/N’s waiting shoulder, he crumbles. Tears are suddenly burning behind his eyes, so he shuts them, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw aches in his frantic attempt to stop himself from crying.
She feels the change in his posture, and wraps her arms around him, stroking his back slowly, as he fights to control his breathing.
“Did you get any sleep?”
Her question makes his heart stammer urgently. He doesn’t want to lie, but the idea of being honest in with his answer is just as sour somehow.
“I- uh,- tried—” is what he whispers, urgently, into the crook of her neck, “—I swear, it's the beds or, or something, they don't feel like they used to-”
Her heart aches at the crack in his voice, she nods, and whispers out an “I believe you” that works at easing the tension. Something in her tone, whether it’s the gentle lilt of affection, or just the way that she is really not freaked out by this whole encounter is unclear, but it's there and he loves it.
He really just loves it.
“C’mon,” she purrs, pulling back a little, “Wanna eat somethin’, with me?”
Without meaning too, Bucky clings to the fabric of her t-shirt. The idea of losing a fraction of the contact she’s giving him so readily is painful.
She’s not oblivious to the way he’s holding on to her like his life depends on it— she’s known him for long enough to know that he flickers between states of total self-inflicted isolation, and a genuine need for the skin on skin.
It makes sense, really— He’s been touched-starved for god knows how long. He’s been locked up and tortured, and worse for a lifetime, and even though everyone had been warned about his status as HYDRAs ‘attack dog’, she’s always thought that from the second he’d started to trust her, the transition to ‘lap dog’ had been awfully fast.
“I-“ Bucky whispers, “I’m—‘m not- not r-eady” I’m not ready to let go, he thinks urgently, not yet.
“Alright, sweetheart” Y/N replies with the same gentle voice he likes so much, “We've got nowhere to be”
Bucky has no idea how she always seems to know what he needs to hear, but he takes it all the same; and she doesn’t try and draw back again, not when there is no reason for her to rob him of whatever small facet of comfort he’s managing to find in her arms.
She’s more than happy to remind him that he’s with friends, now, and not strangers who hurt him for no reason.
“You got plans for today, Buck?” she asks, once the rise and fall of his chest start to regulate, “Or are you a free-agent?”
“I… t-told Steve I’d check in… he’s— he’s been worryin’ about me”
She laughs at that, quiet and soft against the side of his head.
“He’s been worryin’ about you since 1942”
That makes him crack a smile, it’s small and unsteady, but it’s there, and as he unveils his face from her shoulder, Y/N sees it, and she can’t help but reach up to stroke his cheek—
Just like that, his focus is back to kissing.
His eyes are watching the soft curve of her lips, the pressure of her fingers against the skin of his face is drawing him in, and he can almost feel her mouth on his—
Y/N doesn’t question his obvious distraction this time, she just watches patiently as he stares at her with an expression she can’t quite place;
“So…” she exhales, “…Once you’ve let Cap’ seen you’re not in mortal peril, you wanna come hang out with me in my lab?”
“Yes,” he bursts, eager to agree, “yes, p-please I— I’d… I’d like that a lot—”
Bucky loves Y/N’s lab.
He loves the way that it’s full of incredible things that she makes an effort to explain to him, over and over again, even though he barely ever understands it anyway. He loves the way he knows where he can go, and what he can touch, and how it never feels like he’s going to get into some kind of trouble for existing in there, but more than any of that, he thinks, he loves her. He loves her being there, beside him, chattering away like he’s not broken, and touching her hand against his like he hasn’t murdered people twice her size—
“I was hopin’ you might…” Y/N coos happily, snapping his attention firmly back to her face, “…You never know-” she adds, “-You might even manage to get some rest on one of the couches-”
He shoots her a longing glance and hopes earnestly that she doesn’t know how infatuated with her he is. He suspects that she does know, though, when she leans in and presses her lips against his brow.
Kissing.
Y/N is kissing him.
It only lasts a second, but it makes his breathing stop all the same.
When she pulls back, grinning and still stroking his jaw with her thumb, he feels whatever had been left of his resolve shattering.
“If you're breakin' out the puppy dog eyes” she coos, genuinely concerned by the way tears are suddenly filling his eyes, “you must want somethin'... huh? what? You wanna head down right now?”
That's exactly what he wants.
He nods, sniffing lamely as he tries not to blink in case any more emotion spreads across his face. Y/N doesn’t say anything else, she just looks over at the elevator door and waits for him to pad away from her hands, towards it.
It doesn’t take long for them to make it to her laboratory. She scans them both in, and when FRIDAY makes her usual offer of preparing the space for their use, she dismisses the AI politely, with a single request regarding the heating being turned on.
To Bucky’s initial dismay, Y/N doesn’t even look at him— she heads straight for a cupboard, where she proceeds to stand up on her tiptoes in order to reach something that he also can’t make out.
When she turns on her heels, holding a thick, dark, blanket, he’s sure he’s seeing things.
“C’mon then, sweetheart— Pick a couch, any couch”
What?
He blinks at her dumbly, still feeling tears stinging behind his eyes.
She tilts her head and chuckles, before looking around the room at the three, different loveseats;
“Do you have a preference?” she reiterates, “or-”
“I want to stay with you” he bursts, unable to hold back, “I… I mean, I— I- I like, I-“
Y/N feels her heart swelling with flattery, he’s so sweet, so hopelessly hungry for affection and companionship that the idea of anyone hurting him makes her almost irrationally angry.
“Come on then” she exhales, reaching out a hand towards him, and opening and closing her fist in invitation, “Dealers choice”
His chest stammers nervously as he lets his flesh fingers close around hers. He can’t even begin to understand why she’s being so kind to him, but she is, and he needs it. So he doesn’t ask, he just follows behind her as she leads him to a dark leather sectional that’s tucked away in the corner of the room.
“FRIDAY, can you send Cap’ a message please?-” Y/N purrs, folding down on to the plush cushions, “-Tell him that Barnes is fine, and that he’ll catch him for dinner or something later on”
“Sure thing, boss”
She’s still holding his hand, watching him with an expression so lovely that he can barely handle it.
“I-I— I-” he mumbles, “I’m— uh—“
“Exhausted” Y/N cuts in, patting the space beside her, “C’mon, sweetheart, I’ve got some readin’ to catch up on, you can curl up right here and keep me company”
That little burst of encouragement is all it takes for Bucky to fight past the embarrassment he’s feeling and settle himself on the couch, before, he very, very slowly, begins to lie himself down, with his head in Y/N’s lap.
“There” she coos, approving, “lets just-“ she adds, throwing the quilt up, over his body, “That’s better, right? nice and warm”
He can barely comprehend the niceness of his position. He’s staring up at her, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s bringing their tangled hands up to his lips, so that he can press a kiss against her knuckles.
The gesture is so, so lovely, that Y/N can’t help but smile down at him, reaching across with her free fingers to start to stroke his hair back, away from his brow.
“You” she whispers, “Are the sweetest guy alive, y’know that?”
He doesn’t, he doesn’t know anything close to that. So he shakes his head and feels his eyes spilling over, down across his cheeks as he lets himself close them.
Everything feels too raw. He’s tired, exposed, and in love and he hadn't realised that morning, and now he can't stop realising it and it’s too much, right now, because he doesn't know how or when it happened, but she is one of the most important people in his life, and he’s just kissed her hand, and he didn’t ask first, and he’s sorry, and he’s scared and tired, and—
“Well you are…” she says, making his frantic thoughts slam to a halt, “…You’re lovely, and charming, and handsome—”
Suddenly, he’s staring again.
“I’m sorry” he gulps, “I- I really am, Y/N/N-”
That isn’t what she’d been expecting to hear.
She shakes her head, slipping her hand down, so that she’s stroking his cheek with her thumb;
“I… I mean it” he counters, “I- I shouldn’t h-have kissed you- I-”
“What?” Y/N asks, genuinely confused, “What are you talking, about Buck?”
“Just now… I— Y-your hand, I— I, I couldn’t help it, darlin’— I- I- I’ve been thinkin’ a-about kissin’— about kissin’ you, and I— I shouldn’t have— I- I just couldn’t— I-“
He’s getting so worked up that his nostrils are flaring. It’s painful to watch, so she wastes no time in slipping the hand she’s holding up to her own lips, where she kisses his knuckles this time, effectively silencing him instantly.
“You’ve been thinkin’ about kissin’ a lot, huh?” she wonders, after a moment of silence,
Oh, god.
His face is on fire.
His eyes are full of tears again, but he can’t tear them away from her face.
She’s smiling, and he can’t help but think that she looks like an angel-
He nods, too mortified to make his confession aloud.
“and is it just me you’ve been thinkin’ about?” she presses, a lilt of humour in her tone, “or is it Natasha, too?”
“No” he bursts, “No, Y/N/N.. it…uh, it’s just you…”
Bucky knows he’s caught. He knows that no matter how humiliating this whole thing might be, that lying is only going to make it worse.
“Well” Y/N exhales, expression thoughtful, “It’s been a long time for you, sweetheart, it’s only normal that you’re gonna think about things like that-”
A strange kind of bravery washes over him for a minute, and he shakes his head, looking right at her, as he speaks,
“It’s not that, doll, it’s-” he inhales, “It's you, I didn't get it but, I, I do now and I know it’s— it’s crazy and I- I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya but I- I just want ya to know that you— you mean the world to me, and I- I-” “It has been a while, though, right?”
The teasing in her voice cuts through the intensity of the atmosphere, and despite himself, and his crippling anxiety, Bucky finds himself scoffing.
“Yeah..” he agrees, “Yeah it… it’s been a while.”
Y/N beams at him, before kissing his hand again.
“I know I just got FRIDAY to make you dinner plans with Rodgers,” she says, “But he's had plenty of chances to third wheel already- how would you feel about givin' him a rain check? that way we can talk about our feelings for each other somewhere more romantic than my lab—”
His breath catches in his throat. His fingers tighten around hers and for a horrible second, Y/N worries that she’s totally misread the situation;
“W-what do you mean ‘feelings for each other’?”
It’s her turn to blush now, even though Bucky thinks he’s never seen anyone so perfect;
“Well I…” she murmurs, “I might’ve misunderstood you, sweetheart, but it- it sounded like you were sayin’ you-”
“I do” he’s quick to assure her, “Y/N/N, I— I mean… but you— you-”
“Am kinda sweet on you too”
The man in her lap offers her a smile that splits his face- She thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, even if he’s blatantly exhausted.
“So…” she sighs, beaming back at him “…You get some rest… I’ll finish some work that I can’t make Tony’s problem and then…” she purrs, stroking her free hand through his hair, “Then we’ll see about the kissing…”
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the-saltiest-saltine · 10 months
Text
Enjoy this heartwarming fic about the importance of having reliable nondescript friends in the face of a scary situation. You and her can totally fight off a prospective attacker together, you’re sure - after all, you’ve got the power of friendship!
Yan!Chrollo x Reader
Word count: ~ 1.9k
Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied voyeurism, implied torture
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You’ve got a stalker. You know this for sure.
Wherever you go, you can feel a gaze. 
Your train rides and walks through some of the dodgier parts of the central business district after a busy day have always had their fair share of sketchy characters - it’s been a near-daily part of your life since you first came here several weeks ago - but this feeling was different. It wasn’t some junkie looking for a punch-up, no. It was specific. It was targeted.
What started as a feeling of slight watching in public, became a metaphorical spotlight in your apartment, blinding and irritating. You keep your windows shut and locked, not wanting the biting chill of the smoggy winter air to creep its way inside your residence. This doesn’t stop you from constantly coming home to find your kitchen window wound open, all these stories up. You know it’s definitely impossible for a regular man to get up here from the outside, since your front door is always locked and there’s no balcony.
You wish he’d leave you alone at the library, at least. It’s nice and relatively quaint, a much-appreciated juxtaposition from your otherwise industrial setting, and the least your stalker could afford is some privacy so you can enjoy it to its fullest.
The stare is intense, filled with neediness and darkness. You’re sure the eyes of whoever is creating it are a void, the most unusual colour of emptiness and depravity. You can’t pinpoint any particular reason why this is happening - generally, you’re pretty quiet and unassuming. You have no rich family to pay a ransom, and your organs wouldn’t be worth much. Simply put, a person like you is not worth the trouble.
Your best cure for this feeling so far has been to simply sigh, and open up your latest novel, indulging in a few chapters. The feeling subsides after a little while. Perhaps he gets bored of watching you partake in an activity so unappealing to an outside viewer. Perhaps he grabs out his own book and indulges himself, though you doubt that’s the case (-but that would be a nice thought, wouldn’t it? Imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery).
Tonight, you found a card on your kitchen bench. By the looks of it, it’s not a parting message, rather the opposite. The intricate red pattern on it is almost enough to be considered romantic, but you’re hardly feeling the charm. It’s unsettling, to say the least, but you can’t even bring yourself to be scared. 
If anything, this issue annoys you now. It’s been a long, exhausting day at work. It gets uncomfortably cold if the window's left open. If someone’s going to kill you, they might as well just try already. Being stalked is so tiresome.
You don’t have enough tangible evidence to file a police report, simple sensings of a watcher not nearly enough proof to have police aid you. Funnily enough, this takes the bottom rung on the ladder of reasons why you can’t contact them. You can almost laugh at the thought of even trying. If this persists, you’ll call your friends instead.
Unfortunately, your welcome to this city has been anything but warm. 
Luckily, you’ve got one modicum of hope.
There’s a woman in your life.
She’s beautiful, inside and out. Her smiles are a breath of fresh air in this wretched city. You can’t say you’re exactly dating yet, but whatever tier below it you’ve got now is certainly better than whatever was there before. Something like gratitude, as much as you’re naturally inclined to overlook it, hits you like a truck whenever you’re together.
Unlike you, she’s not new here. She’s been a great tour guide so far, introducing you to practically every street corner, every Indian restaurant, every speck of dirt and faeces on the wrecked footpaths that the slimy Mayor neglects. It’s hard to worry about a stalker when you’re being bombarded with random questions and consumed by her laugh, echoing between the skyscrapers and into comforting mugs of hot chocolate.
The time you spend with her is precious, sacred even. You won’t let the mystery man get in the way of that.
Long before that card made its way to your residence, you did call a friend, the friend, about your problem, getting a response within two rings. You told her about your stalker, sniffling and regularly hiccupping, telling her about how you think there’s someone after you. She was practically frantic, demanding that you come over to her apartment right that instant, barking out her address without hesitation. It’s only fifteen minutes away, she assured. You got there in seven.
She flung open the door at the first knock, saying your name with relief and letting you in. You spared her most of the details as you sat on her couch, not wanting her to put herself in harm’s way. Despite your shaky insistence that you’ll be fine regardless, she gave you some pepper spray to help defend yourself, and some tips on how to hold your keys between your knuckles most effectively.
I’ll protect you if anything happens, she says, her support of you positively admirable. You know she’d try and fight him off if you were together when he strikes. 
You’re certain that your combined forces are enough to fight off a fully grown man, you declared in response - and you meant it. In fact, you added, scratch that, you’re absolutely convinced that your cumulative strength - consisting of four arms, pepper spray, and her high-pitched scream - is enough to fight off a bodybuilder pumped full of anything and everything you can get in the alleys behind the city’s numerous smoke shops. She laughed at that, but you know she still worries for you.
You can come with me anywhere if you’re uncomfortable, she said. Really, if you’re worried, just call me up. I can leave work early if you think you’re in danger, honestly. My manager is flexible enough.
Appreciation swirls around you in waves again. Naturally, you have your scepticism. It’s almost too generous, too forward, something you’re certainly not accustomed to. But alas, you’ll firmly grip whatever opportunities present themselves. She offers you what she can, and you don’t hold yourself back from accepting it with open arms.
You’ve accompanied her to the bar, to the library, to her favourite café. It’s pleasant. It’s peaceful. You’re still being watched for certain, but the ability to have a brief moment of levity whilst in her presence, something to help you forget about work and responsibilities and stalkers, is something to be treasured.
She’s so calming, so sweet, so caring…
And so, so oblivious.
You’ve accompanied her to the bar, to the library, to her favourite café. However, if you were to ask, she’d say with the utmost conviction that you were never there (and that she’d love to show you). You’ve accompanied her on her commute home, made cups of tea in her kitchen, folded dog ears in the untouched novels on her bookshelf, hoping she’ll note the romantic scenes and lines you’ve kindly bookmarked for her. 
She’s promised to protect you. She never questioned why your little whimpers died down so suddenly after she gave you her address. She never questioned how you got there so fast. If she’d been wary enough to use the location services on her phone, she would’ve been able to see that seven minutes was actually a while to arrive, considering you were a twenty-metre walk down the hallway when you’d called.
She simply ate up your little performance over the phone, and in her apartment. And, soon enough, she’ll be coming to yours. 
Yesterday, she told you about the new exhibit at the city’s museum - she went to get a glimpse of it the other day, and it looks promising.
You went to get a glimpse of it too, twenty metres behind her.
The day before, she told you about how she ordered a new drink at a café- it was absolutely to die for, and oh, by the way, did you know that café is her favourite in the city?
You inferred that much from her frequent visits there, following her routine so effortlessly that it became your own. You tried the drink out too, taking sips in time with hers, admiring her profile as she scrolled through her phone. She was so pleased to finally have an afternoon to herself, after a week of hectic shifts.
Something unfamiliar stokes inside of you as you make your observations. Perhaps it’s comparable to a parent seeing their child grow and develop, or a botanist seeing rare flowers bloom, or an astronomer observing the most uncommon and exquisite of meteorological events. It’s something like happiness, something like attachment, something like wonder, something like pride.
On the other hand, you must admit, you’re a little disappointed. She lied to you.
She didn’t tell you about the man she slept with from the bar last week. Technically, you never asked about it, considering that you weren’t supposed to be there, but you’re a man who considers lying by omission to be on an equal plane as wholehearted deception. She promised to never lie to you, but now she has. What should she have to do to earn your forgiveness?
Although, perhaps this encounter was no matter, the sounds she made being enough fuel for your frantic stroking outside her bedroom door, her whines teaching you what to do when you would be in the stranger’s place, a point in time that won’t be too far from now. For the sake of equality, though, you’ll let this one slide. After all, you didn’t tell her about the man’s fate after that night, about your other friend who’d assisted you, about the teeth scattered on the cold basement floor, about the strips of flesh that hung from his back and how you’d apathetically tugged on them.
She’s a very good source of information for you. Truly, you hadn’t expected to spend so long in this city, nor had you expected for the museum to open up again so quickly since your heist two months ago only a few towns over, locked down for precaution (a laughable concept, really). Without her, you wouldn’t have anyone to debate the validity of the Old Testament, the extent that Raskolnikov can be justified, or theories on what happens after death. Also, without her, you wouldn’t have found out about the museum’s new exhibit of Goya paintings so soon, teasingly left out in the open, ripe for the plucking mere minutes away from your penthouse. It’s a temptation you’ve never bothered resisting.
Despite being a Nen user, whoever’s stalking you doesn’t care to hide himself properly. His perfect Zetsu is rendered useless from his other behaviours. You can hear his footsteps outside of the window, see his shadow in your periphery, hear his heavy breathing and salacious groans as he watches you.
If you were more dramatic, you’d roll your eyes. With Skill Hunter available on command, you have no doubt that this fool would lose to you in a fight. You’ve been observing his patterns, feeling his aura, preparing yourself for the inevitable.
You’ve been doing the same for your friend, however loosely you may use the term.
Whatever the man following you wants, you’ll take from him tenfold. You pick up the playing card from the bench, a queen of hearts, and regard it between your fingers.
You’ve got a stalker. She’s got a stalker too. But, unlike you, she won’t have the means to counter his next move.
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daisyvisions · 8 months
Text
Not Part Of The Mission - (k.yh)
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‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), spy!au, colleagues to lovers (they bicker, but they’re not enemies), mentions of violence (i.e. fighting and killing, guns and knives mentioned) heavy kissing, slight dry humping, slight spit kink, fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex (be safe irl! this is just a fic), creampie, pet name (sweetheart)
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word count: 2.6K
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: My delayed birthday entry for our resident bread boy. His current long hair reminded me again of his maverick era and I just had to write about it. Wishing nothing but the best for his bday month and their comeback!
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"Who are we looking for exactly?" you impatiently ask, your hands perched on your hips.
"Well, according to the file, his name is Ji Changmin. But that's not who we're looking for right now," he replies, his eye glued to the telescope.
"Then who the hell are we looking for?"
"Can you relax? Our job is to stake out. I thought Sangyeon made that clear?"
"Yeah, but to stake out for FIVE hours?" you exclaim. Younghoon pulls away from the telescope and lets out a big sigh.
"Unless you have any other better ideas, I suggest you shut that mouth of yours, sweetheart." He looks up at you.
"Ew, I told you to stop calling me that." You wince at the nickname.
"Why? Is it doing anything for you?" His smug smile makes you want to punch him in the gut.
"In your dreams," you scoff. "Taking fifteen. Going to get some fresh air for a bit."
"Don't walk too far, alright? We were told to stay put until we get orders." Younghoon warns.
"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill."
"I swear to god if anything happens to you--"
"I'll be fine, okay? Can you not watch me like a hawk for once?" Your eyebrows knit together.
"Well, sweetheart, it's not my fault you nearly got yourself screwed over the last mission. I was put on specific orders to make sure you don't go rogue again like last time."
"I told you to stop calling me that!" You stomp your foot on the ground.
Younghoon barks out a laugh. "You're so cute when you get mad. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"How did I end up getting stuck with you for this mission?" you hiss.
"Because you love me, that's why." He grins back.
You scowl at him before turning around to walk out.
"Fifteen minutes, okay? If you don't come back, I'm going out to look for you." Younghoon shouts, but you flip him off in response and head out of the room.
To be honest, you're not really sure where you're heading. You just want to get out of that room for a moment before you start to lose your mind. This wasn't the kind of action you signed up for when you joined the special ops. You wanted to be out there in the field, actually putting into practice all the hours you spent training.
Since that last mission, it's as if everyone on the team is constantly watching over you like a child. It's not your fault you deviated from the plan. Sure, things became a little messy, but if it wasn't for you, you wouldn't have gotten the viable information you needed to close down the case. You shake off your thoughts and just mindlessly walk around instead.
As you walk around the abandoned building, hand gripping the gun in your pocket, you see an open window ahead of you. The view of the sun setting in front of you is incredibly breathtaking. You decide to lean your arms on the ledge and look out for a moment and just get lost in its beautiful orange hues.
You can't remember the last time you saw a sunset as beautiful as this.You're put out of your trance as you hear footsteps behind you. You huff in annoyance and turn around.
"Younghoon... It hasn't even been fifteen minutes. Can you just give me a fucki--" You let out a loud gasp. Strong hands are gripping your wrists. It's not Younghoon, but a henchman you've seen earlier on in the mission.
You try to fight him off, but he's stronger than any of the other enemies you've ever encountered. His weight causes you to lose balance and fall to the ground. As he tries to pin you down even further, you pull out the gun from your pocket but it ends up getting swatted out of your grip.
As you try to struggle to get out of his grasp, the henchman pulls out a knife from his pocket, attempting to push it against your neck. You use all your might to push back but feel your strength quickly decreasing. You close your eyes and slowly accept your fate.
Suddenly, the weight of the henchman on top of you disappears and you hear him scream in pain. You open your eyes to see his arm stabbed by his own knife. And in a flash, you see Younghoon gripping his collar and punching him like there's no tomorrow before finally shooting him down.
Your heart pumps so fast against your chest from everything happening so quickly. Faster than anything that has ever happened to you during missions.
"Shit--" Younghoon huffs out, briefly shaking his hand from the numbing feeling of his knuckles before combing his hair back with his fingers. He immediately walks towards you, lowering himself down to hold your body upright and swinging your arm around his shoulder for support. He quickly walks you both back to the stakeout room.
As soon as he closes and locks the door, he turns around and steps forward closer to you with worry in his eyes.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" He checks your arms, face, any sign of injury.
"N-no. I'm fine." You quietly answer, avoiding his eyes.
"Fuck-- If I had been there too late, I might've lost you." He cups your face between his hands, looking into your eyes, still breathing heavily from what happened earlier. You try your best at this moment not to blush, especially with his face being this close to yours.
His hands lower to your waist, still holding you tight to make sure you're alright.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again. You slowly nod in response, as your mind is distracted from the way his hands feel on your body. Your heart's still pumping fast but now for a different reason.
Your heart aches the moment he pulls away and lets go of your waist, wanting to feel his warmth again seeping through your clothes. You impulsively reach out to grab his collar, making him turn around.
"Wha--" Younghoon doesn't even have the time to react properly as soon as you pull him close and press your lips against his. You quickly pull back, both your eyes widening at what just happened.
"Oh my god." You panic.
"I'm sorry. I just-- I don't know why I just did that-- oh my god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sor--"
"Shut up--" Younghoon grabs your waist to pull you close, quickly leaning forward to kiss you again. You deepen the kiss further as you feel your arms around his neck, making him groan in the process.
You both move your lips in sync with one another as you run your fingers through his hair and his arms start slowly embracing you. He pulls away from your lips quickly to catch his breath before diving back in to snake his tongue inside your mouth.
You let out a desperate whine feeling the wet muscle intertwining with yours, encouraging Younghoon to keep on going. He quickly walks you back till your ass hits the ledge of the desk, deepening his kiss even further as you slightly lean backwards.
His hands suddenly grip your hips and lift you up to make you sit. You both hastily swat anything that was previously on the table before he lays you down on the surface. Your legs immediately wrapping around his torso like a magnet, pulling his body closer to yours. Both of you feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins.
His kisses start traveling to the side of your jaw, making their way down to the side of your neck. His teeth lightly graze your sensitive skin before lightly nipping and sucking, the sensation making you whimper from its pleasurable pain. He licks and kisses the sensitive part to soothe the sting for a moment before going back to kissing you on the lips once again.
Damn, he's a really good kisser, you think to yourself. His lips molding into yours so perfectly, its pillow-like texture making you take his lower lip between your teeth and nipping them. Younghoon lets out a very deep moan, the vibrations coursing throughout your body.
He presses his body onto yours even more, feeling his hard length pressing against your aching core. His hips start to roll as your legs try to pull him closer, making you both moan into each other's mouths from the delicious friction happening down below.
Desperate for each other, you reach to unbutton your pants and lift your hips slightly so he could pull them out and toss them somewhere on the side. Younghoon then pushes you onto your back and grabs both your wrists with one hand to pin them down above your head. His other hand lightly squeezes and cups your jaw between his fingers.
"Open." he commands. "What?" you look at him with half-lidded eyes.
Without hesitation, he immediately squeezes your cheeks to open your mouth and lets his spit drop inside, making you gasp from the unexpected move. He lets go of your jaw and pushes his two fingers inside your mouth. You involuntarily suck on them before he pulls them out and shoves them beneath your underwear to rub your sensitive bud in circles.
"Fuck, you're so wet. Didn't even need my spit, huh?" he growls.
"Younghoon-- need you." You whine as your clit throbs from how fast he's rubbing you, his fingers teasingly prodding your entrance in-between.
"Where do you need me, sweetheart?"
"I-inside, pleaseee" you beg.
"Yeah? Shit, I'll give it to you soooo good." he pulls his hand away from your core, making you whine at the sudden loss of contact. He pulls your body upright, signaling you to get off the desk. The moment you stand up he spins you around and bends you over. He pushes his hips against your ass for a moment, making you feel his erection before quickly unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to his knees.
His cock slaps against his abdomen, prominent veins protruding and his pink mushroom tip oozing precum. He tugs his member at the base, fisting it up and down for a moment before hooking a finger to your underwear and pulling it to the side.
He drags the tip of his cock between your folds, lubricating himself even further with your arousal before sticking the head inside your entrance and slowly pushing himself all the way inside. The stretch immediately has your head going numb.
Younghoon waits for a moment to feel you adjust to his size before slowly dragging out his length and pushing it all back inside. He does this until he gradually increases the pace, gripping your hips tight and pounding into you as you feel his balls slap your core rhythmically and the desk creaking under you.
Wanton moans spill out of your mouth, trying to hold onto anything you can find as Younghoon fucks you rough from behind. You start to feel the tip of his cock nudge that gummy spot inside you, making your eyes roll far back.
"Oh god! Right there!" you scream.
"So fucking tight, practically milking me dry holy shit." He increases the pace even further, pulling your hips backward with every thrust.
Just as you feel yourself slowly ascend, you both hear the buzz of your walkie-talkie that's still on the desk.
"Hello?"
"Fuck." Your eyes grow wide. The buzzing sound repeats again.
"Helloooooo?" The person on the other line calls out.
"Answer it." Younghoon grunts under his breath.
"What?" You look back at him with panic. Instead of repeating himself, he grabs the back of your hair and pulls it hard, making you moan.
"Do it." He whispers in your ear before letting go of your hair.
You reach for the walkie-talkie and try to compose yourself before pressing the button to answer.
"Y-yeah?" you croak.
"Any status report?" You hear Chanhee's voice over the line.
"No. N-no detected movement." You bite on your fist, restraining yourself from moaning as Younghoon's cock deliciously drags in and out of your cunt. His tip continuously nudging at that gummy spot.
"Shitttt." Younghoon groans from behind.
"Was that Younghoon?" Chanhee asks.
"Y-yeah, just s-stretching his legs that's all." You lie.
"Are you okay? You sound like you're crying."
"I'm fine, I'm fine, just choked on my water." You lie again. Well... sort of as you do start to feel small tear drops forming at the corners of your eyes.
"Oookkaaayyy. Well, don't forget we need to reconvene at 8 PM." Chanhee replies.
"Uh-huh." You respond, words slowly becoming incoherent as you feel your high approaching. As soon as you drop the line, Younghoon increases his pace again, and your moans start to get louder and louder.
"Shit shit shit I'm cumming!" you exclaim, a flash of white appears before your eyes as soon as you say that. You moan constantly from how hard your orgasm hit you just then. Younghoon's high follows right after, feeling your walls tighten so hard around his cock he grunts against your ear so loud. His hot white fluid exploding inside of you as his member continues to twitch uncontrollably inside.
You both try to catch your breath, chests heaving from the intensity of your orgasms. As soon as you both come down from your highs, the reality of what just happened hits both of you like a truck. You turn around to look at him, looking at each other with the widest eyes while he's still plugged into you.
"What the fuck was that?!" You both shout at the same time.
Later on in the night, as the team gathers to meet up, you and Younghoon intentionally ignore each other's gaze. Not uttering any word to one another right after he pulled out and just minding your own business, pretending nothing even happened at all. Both of you are stunned and embarrassed at what happened earlier in the stakeout room.
Chanhee notices the odd behavior between the two of you, “Are you sure you two are okay? You both look like shit. Did something happen in-”
“NO!” You and Younghoon shout at him. Everyone else including Chanhee look at both of you in confusion.
“I mean- No. Nothing major happened. Not at all. Right?” You side glance at Younghoon.
“Yeah, yeah nothing. It’s all good.” Younghoon fake coughs, trying his best not to look embarrassed remembering your moment together.
“Anyway!” Hyunjae interrupts. “Let’s get some shut eye. Same time tomorrow, same roles alright? Let’s move out.” Everyone disperses as soon as possible.
As you grab you bag and some of the equipment and head towards the van, you feel Younghoon’s figure walking beside you. He leans a little lower to get close to your ear as you walk, making sure that the next thing he’s about to say could only be heard between the two of you,
“At least now we have something to do to pass the time tomorrow huh, sweetheart?” you quickly turn your head towards him and he playfully grins at you. You swat your free hand against his chest and he barks out a laugh.
“I told you to stop calling me that!”
“But you love it anyway.”
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