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violetrainbow412-blog · 10 months

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Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids.

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it.

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying”

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements.

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you.

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit.

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin.

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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kuromochimi · 2 months

Text

baby I’m nothing like your broke ex

gojo satoru, nanami kento

Content warnings: mentions of past toxic relationships, not proof read

🔜 suguru geto, kamo choso, higuruma hiromi

Gojo Satoru

Satoru was rich. Like rich RICH. You first noticed this the moment you met him when you spilled coffee on his shirt then offered to buy him a new one instead. Instant regret when you realized that his shirt was worth more than your entire closet combined.

Being in a relationship with him was… well it was an adjustment. You lived a fairly simple life before you met him. It wasn’t a bad life. You still got to spend on your wants here and there but you had to budget such things much like any other common person had to. On the other hand, the word budget was non-existent to satoru especially when it came to you. He quite literally gave you everything. A few weeks into the relationship though, he had noticed how reluctant you were to accept his presents. You didn’t seem uncomfortable, just.. reluctant. He toned down a bit after this realization. But god he just couldn’t figure out why you were almost unwilling to accept anything at all from him, even food, even a ride home, even his hoodie which he already said you could keep. “Baby” he called to which you responded by looking his way. “Why do you never want to accept my presents?” He asked before he got up to approach you, immediately hugging you from the back as soon as you were within reach. “Hmm it’s not that I don’t want to.. it’s just.. you have to let me get used to these things first, okay?” satoru raised his brow “baby I know that shitty ex of yours can’t come close to how much I spoil you but was he that stingy?” at first satoru was only joking but your silence meant it was probably true. “So he was?” He asked as his chin was resting on your shoulder. “Come on satoru, he’s a thing of the past. He doesn’t matter anymore, ‘kay?” You tried your best to steer away from having to tell your boyfriend in detail but he’s right. Your ex was stingy as hell. It’s not like you ever asked for anything too much in fact, you don’t ever remember asking for anything at all. All the times he had to pick you up, he asked for gas money which seemed fair enough but it wasn’t just that. The man loved going on and extravagant dates but was never willing to fish out more than gas money. He adored receiving presents from you but could never be bothered to get you even the cheapest flowers. He used to say that he was just saving up to be able to give you the life you deserve but 8 years of having to sustain the luxurious lifestyle of a bum just made you snap hence, the break up. Satoru’s tightening embrace woke you from that little flashback. “Okay baby, I’ll make sure to spoil you but don’t hesitate to tell me if I go overboard hm? Love you” he gave you a kiss on the cheek and god, you felt so lucky to have found such a good man.

Nanami Kento

It quite literally took years of yearning for nanami to be finally able to date you. He was your junior in university and your junior at work as well. All that time, he had to witness you be head over heels for your then boyfriend, another one of his seniors. He thought the man might have put a spell on you because for the love of god, he could not see what kept you with the jerk for so long. Having observed your relationship from when he was a college freshman up to when he was a work colleague, your ex never even tried to mask how selfish he was with you. The man dawned expensive watches and drove a not so cheap car, he loved going to expensive places with his friends but with you? He wouldn’t hesitate to pass you the bill (like 85% of the time) whenever you went on dates, bought you nothing but cheap jewelry and quality reject flowers just because they were cheaper. Even worse, he also let you take the crowded train home everyday despite him driving to and from work everyday. He just couldn’t be bothered to pick you up because your workplace was “too far” and gas was expensive. If he really was struggling, it wouldn’t have been a problem but any person could see that he was more than capable of treating you better. He just didn’t want to.

Dating nanami was like a breath of fresh air. It’s not like you were materialistic in the first place but receiving pretty flowers and having someone make sure you’s comfortable and safe felt so heartwarming. On top of that, nanami didn’t make it feel like he was obligated to do any of that. He just genuinely wanted to care for you. It was all new to you that you even had to ask him to stop spoiling you too much, you felt bad accepting all that he was giving. “I know you don’t need them and I know you’re capable but let me do these things for you, hm?” Was what he’d always say and despite bot being able to voice it out to him yet, there is so much love in you knowing that it was possible to be treated this way. With so much care and love and concern.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami fluff

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

Text

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john price x f reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain price

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taexoxosgf · 4 months

Text

DO IT AGAIN

PAIRING brother’s best friend!park jisung x fem!reader

WORDS 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS reader is tyong’s sister, jealousy, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

NOTES this smut is actually from a super long fic i posted on my old account! i’m not sure if i’m gonna post the whole thing because i’m cringing rereading it lol

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Taeyong dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!”

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.”

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young! Loosen up a little! Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch.

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before running out of the main room.

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Taeyong’s motto is always all or nothing.

You're nothing near Taeyong's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jisung. Excruciatingly so. Whoever claimed that drinking made you act like a bitch in heat wasn't kidding. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for Jisung because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around.

“Hyuck? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re already bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept.

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away. He still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you never had the opportunity to properly catch up.

“Not doing too bad. It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.

“How’s the East Coast? Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?”

“Nah, you know me. Girls there are way too preppy for me. Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he pretends to gag, swaying his body from side to side.

“Hey! Don’t hate. That show was ahead of its time,” you comment, brows raised.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves. Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.

"Fair enough," you nod. "You know who you should go for?" an idea flashes across your mind as you speak.

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Yuna.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together! What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?”

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked. “She’d never go for me.”

“What? She used to have a crush on you! You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm. “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard. I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay. Let’s hang out and catch up this week. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.

“I”m go-”

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.

You see it’s Jisung after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.

“Jisung, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back. It’s almost pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door. Jisung finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in your own space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.

“Jisung.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out hoarse, more playful. This was just what you wanted. He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building up the courage to approach him first.

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it.

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours. It was the perfect opportunity. Taeyong was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house. There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments. You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.

“You have me to yourself now. So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice him struggling to control himself.

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend. Look’s like you guys were having fun,” you can hear the slight anger in his voice, jaw clenching following the statement.

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin, the alcohol influencing you to play games, “Hyuck isn’t my boyfriend, just an old friend. Remember him?”

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you. But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve. “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that! Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. “Should I call him Hyuck too?”

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on, but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Yuna.”

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.

Jisung pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?”

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard. It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core, “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.”

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Play games. Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control he previously displayed being lost in an instant.

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other. Jisung falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip. He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want."

Jisung doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present. “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

"You're hotter," your lips nearly touch at the movement. You're grinning ear-to-ear, but it's short-lived as Jisung grabs your nape and presses his lips to yours. This kiss is nothing like the previous one, and you want to drown in him. You press your mouth even harder on his, and he responds by positioning his entire weight against your body. You’re actually somewhat sober this time around and take notice of the piercing at the corner of his lips. The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the hot atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time. The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now.

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens. Jisung licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue, lips fighting against his. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump. You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours. The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jisung slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now. Is that what you’re into? Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.

“Only if you like to dominate.”

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched. The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jisung’s shirt.

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck. The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over. “I can’t hear you. Already falling apart?”

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end. It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties. He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end. But when you become lost in his lips once again, Jisung slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on.

“Jisungg,” you say against his mouth.

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds. It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.

“Please, Jisung. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.”

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you. Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace. You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria. “I w-want it,” you cry.

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.

“Want you. Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot. It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure.

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over. What you don’t notice is Jisung’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help. Jisung's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose. He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back. You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.

“P-please,” you beg.

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers, he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his. “Come on, you can do it. Cum,” he demands.

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop. Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jisung bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more. You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jisung moans. "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth. The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat. “Good girl.”

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place. Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up. “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts. You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but everything Jisung does just causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.” He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.

And just like that, Jisung slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness. He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.

“Holy shit,” he sighs. “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.”

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move. “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his. He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner. You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck. How are you going to stop now? “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.

“Ji–sung,” you moan, “Faster.” Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jisung just swallows your pour of moans. He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress. It feels so good, the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside. You don’t know how much more you can take.

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at Jisung. The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through. “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away. When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.”

Jisung’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips. He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix. “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision. The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jisung continues to destroy you. “Jisung, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh? Want me to make your pussy mine?” His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else. The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that. Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.

“Answer me,” he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.

It was so easy for Jisung to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly. “Ji–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles. You begin to babble random sounds, unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jisung to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave.

“Inside, cum inside, Jisung,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter. After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements. After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out.

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene. The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too. Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jisung seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something. “I forgot to lock the door.”

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious? Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs.

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness. “You’re so annoying.”

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 6 months

Note

could i request something for charles where maybe he’s doing an online interview or stream in his apartment and his daughter sort of waddles in and then the reader follows her to try stop her from interrupting charles. They both are seen in the camera and social media sort of blows up? if you feel comfortable could you make a social media au post of them confirming their relationship and introducing their daughter. Thank you lovely!

The Best Secret in His Life. - Charles Leclerc

Lowkey inspired by the very false rumour that one of the drivers under 30 has a secret love child that ended their previous relationship. I know it's not true but I think we can all agree it was funny. Expect some over-dramatisation. Alos I have tried social media au, I didn't like how they turned out. I'm working on it! But sadly it won't be part of this post, sorry :( hope you like it anyway x

Summary: Charles keeps his private life with y/n exactly that. Private. To the point that he never told the world he has a child, in fact even the deepest creeping F1 WAG accounts don't know anything about his girlfriend beyond her name. But sometimes the universe decides to change things up even when you wish it wouldn't.

And we couldn't make this without using this most gorgeous gif (the toddler will actually be older, around 2 years old).

Charles knows his life in always under a microscope, so he's made constant efforts, especially after y/n told him she was pregnant, to make sure his family is protected. To do this, it means that his baby is hidden from the world and he has to take precautions to make sure she is never spotted with him.

It's hard. But y/n supports the decision and does everything it takes to protect their baby too.

However, the older she gets the harder it is. Not so much because of anything other than their daughter herself. Instead the issue falls in Celine (sorry if you hate the name, I just wanted to give her a name rather than use y/d/n) not understanding why her dad leaves her and why she can't go with him to the races.

"Papapapapapapa." Celine chants as y/n tries to do some housework.

Charles is there and usually he's fully committed to taking on all parental duties knowing that y/n is otherwise always the parent on duty. But he has an interview to do for Ferrari and then he's all theirs.

However, that isn't working for Celine and she wants her dad now.

"Baby, I know. But Papa's busy. He's not going to be long. How about...you choose a game for you and papa to play when he's done?" Y/n asks knowing her daughter is very much smart enough to know exactly what she's saying.

"Oui." Celine nods being able to speak both French and English and happily switching between the two languages, sometimes mid-sentence, when she feels like it.

Y/n sighs standing up feeling pretty satisfied with herself as her toddler trundles off out the kitchen. Celine is occupied till Charles is done and Charles will be finished up soon since he has been in there a while.

Sadly only a minute passes before she hears Celine shouting for Charles and the sound of his door slamming open, hitting the wall echoes through the apartment.

"Fuck." Y/n gasps running to grab the toddler before she's spotted but it's too late.

"Papapapapapapa! Papa play!" Celine exclaims running to Charles who seems torn between being frozen in shock and giving his daughter the loving and tentative father that she knows and adores.

Y/n rushes through the door looking at Charles who just smiles sadly at her because they both know. All that effort, the YEARS of effort to hide the pregnancy, birth and then her entire existence is all for not.

"Ah who is that?" The interviewer questions while Y/n picks up a confused Celine from where she'd climbed onto Charles' lap and exits quickly letting Charles have full control over how he might handle this.

Y/n sighs as she finally gets Celine down for the night and walks out knowing that they put off the conversation for long enough while she was awake, but now she's asleep they have to discuss it.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so so so sorry. She was asking for you and I told her to grab a game for when you were done. I had no idea she was going in the room." Y/n states feeling the guilt consuming her as her eyes begin to water. Completely broken. "I ruined it all."

"Baby, no. No. You didn't ruin anything...we couldn't hide her forever and I was beginning to think we needed to come up with a plan of how to finally introduce her to the world...I did think maybe we might ease the world into it." Charles jokes before pulling y/n down onto his lap. "But now she can finally come to the races and we don't have to act like she doesn't exist. I know you hate leaving her when you come with me and I hate leaving you both."

"You know we still can't come to every race." Y/n smiles lightly though she does love the thought of Celine finally getting to see Charles doing what he loves, though he has always told her that F1 falls second to spending time with her and Celine.

"I know, but still. I think it's best if we all just finally tell the world." Charles sighs then kissing y/n properly. "But if you don't want to, we don't have to."

Y/n immediately shakes her head insisting that it is the right thing to do.

"She was always too perfect to keep to ourselves anyway."

The media and fans were in uproar. Questions about the toddler and the fact her was called Papa. All F1 and race questions were completely thrown out the window and thank god Charles wasn't in the press conference but instead the media pen because the questions would've never been directed to anyone else.

Plus he brought Celine with him (like Kmag with Laura at COTA) and she is latched onto him for dear life.

Maybe hiding her has made her slightly less at ease when it comes to crowds.

"Papa." Celine whines bounces at his leg to be picked up which is a sight that every camera in the vicinity tries to capture as he rests her on his hip and she cuddles into him, hiding her face as she tries to avoid looking anyone in the eye.

"So why did you keep this beautiful young lady hidden for so long?"

"For us, it felt right and we still believe it was the right thing to do. But Celine is just like her mother, she can make her own decisions and she decided she was ready for the world to know about her." Charles states and the smile on her face proves that he is just so proud to be able to show his daughter to the world.

"Can we expect to see Celine Leclerc in a kart one day?"

"Oh she has been in a kart. Ehh...perhaps that will be the next thing she shows everyone. But she is certainly interested in racing already." Charles admits as Celine perks up in his arms and begins to squirm.

"Mama, mama! Mama! Papa is here!" Celine exclaims then being put down and running to the woman who was just going to wait by the entrance for Charles to be done, but as is beginning to be a theme, Celine has decided the game plan.

"She is actually in charge." Charles laughs when y/n picks Celine up.

The first edits of the moments from this interview are posted within the our of it being uploaded and in no time Celine has her own fan accounts and with Charles uploading more and more of his little family. The world knows and more than approves of it all.

Celine even becomes a little Ferrari mascot and while she doesn't attend every race, she certainly becomes a fan favourite when she is there. No longer a stranger to being the centre of all attention.

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magiccath · 5 months

Text

The Ring

tenth doctor x f!reader

Summary: In which the only way for you and the Doctor to get out of this one is a fake marriage. But how fake is it really?

You keeled over, your breath coming out in short pants. You weren't as good at this running thing as the Doctor was.

Sensing you weren’t behind him, the Doctor turned to check on you. You threw your thumb up, signaling that you were okay. You didn’t like the Doctor worrying about you.

“I’m sure we’ve lost them for now,” he assured, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was a nervous tick that he had.

“What are we going to do?” You asked once you had caught your breath. You allowed your legs to fold underneath you, sitting in the grass. The Doctor crouched down next to you.

It was supposed to be a nice vacation, a break from the hustle and bustle of time traveling. You had explicitly asked for a relaxing trip, one where you didn’t have to save the world or run for your life. You should have known that was never how it was with the Doctor.

Everything was fine at first. The alien town the Doctor had selected for your trip was throwing an elaborate festival. You were more than happy to partake in the dancing and sample the foreign foods. What you failed to notice was the ritual behind the festival. The village selected an unmarried woman each year to sacrifice to their gods. In retrospect, it wasn’t the weirdest ritual you had encountered over the years. What made it so uncomfortable was the fact they had selected you.

“I would rather not be a blood sacrifice,” you admitted, pushing your wayward hair out of your face.

“I won’t let that happen,” The Doctor said seriously, taking your hand gently. He had the duty of care, something that he didn’t take lightly.

“I’m not sure how much good we are against a whole village of bloodthirsty aliens,” you laughed, burying your head in your hands. You should have been scared, upset even. Instead, you found the whole thing funny. You supposed that was a side effect of traveling with the Doctor. Everything could always be worse, and everything in front of you could always be funny. You just had to frame it the right way.

“I have an idea,” the Doctor murmured. You looked up at him, confused. He only whispered things when he knew you wouldn’t like them.

“They only want to sacrifice you because you’re unmarried,” he stated. You stared at him, unsure of the point he was trying to make.

He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“I’m gonna need you to spell this one out for me,” you laughed lightly.

The Doctor swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing aggressively. “We could get married,” he said matter-of-factly, with the same tone he used to ask if you wanted tea or coffee in the morning.

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed. The Doctor swallowed again, his eyes diverting from yours.

You loved the Doctor, in every sense of the word. He was your home, your comfort. He was everything and more to you. But he only loved you as a friend, and you were more than willing to accept that love. It was better to love him like this than not at all.

“They can’t sacrifice you if we get married.”

“No, I got that part,” you rushed out, waving your hands about anxiously.

“You,” you sighed, pausing before continuing, “marry me?”

“To save your life, yes,” the Doctor said like it was the simplest thing in the world. He would walk to the ends of the universe for you. He had.

“Can we do that?” you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. The whole thing felt too good to be true.

“I can’t think of anyone else I would rather fake-marry,” he smiled, taking your hands in his again.

You grinned, the smile taking over your whole face. The Doctor loved it when you smiled like that. He loved it even more when he made you smile like that.

“Let’s get fake married!” you laughed, jumping up from the grass. The Doctor nodded in agreement, standing up next to you.

“How exactly…” you trailed off. “Are we going to get fake married?” The Doctor had a habit of making plans without a way to execute them.

It wasn’t like you could just walk into the village church and get married. You certainly couldn’t go back to the TARDIS, or that would have been the plan before suggesting a falsified marriage.

“There was a little cottage on the outskirts of town, we can hope that there’s an inhabitant there who can serve as a witness?” He suggested.

You couldn’t come up with a better idea so you agreed, following the Doctor as he walked off into the distance.

You tried not to read too much into the whole marriage thing. The Doctor was doing it to save your life, nothing more. Still, the mere idea of it left your skin tingling and your heart racing.

You were so lost in thought you hardly noticed the cottage creeping up on you until you were standing on the front steps.

The Doctor rapped his knuckles against the wood softly before stepping back. You waited in silence for a few moments. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What if this didn’t work?

The door flung open, revealing an old woman.

“What do you want?” She barked, clearly disturbed by the visit.

The Doctor cleared his throat, searching for his words. You frowned, he usually didn’t have any trouble talking to strangers.

“This is a bit of a strange request,” he laughed lightly, his hand drifting towards the back of his neck subconsciously.

“Spit it out, young man.”

You bit back a giggle. The Doctor was far from young, even if this face was youthful.

“We need a witness for our wedding,” he rushed, his words coming out in hurried clusters.

The woman remained silent for a moment, her eyes darting between the two of you. You could see hundreds of questions forming in her mind before she shook them away.

“I don’t want to know,” she murmured as she opened the door.

You exchanged a look of relief with the Time Lord before following her inside.

She bustled about her cottage, sorting things out while the two of you fiddled anxiously in the corner.

“Well, let's get on with it,” she finally sighed.

The Doctor nodded timidly, holding out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his, your fingers interlocking instantaneously. You had held hands hundreds of times, yet it felt different.

With his other hand, the Doctor rifled about in the pockets of his coat. You frowned, wondering what could possibly be in there. Did he really need a jammy dodger from the depths of his pocket right now? Finally, his hand slipped out of the pocket holding two silver rings.

“Why, on Earth, are you carrying around wedding bands?” you laughed. He only shrugged, handing the simple rings over to the old woman. She examined the objects in her hand wistfully, turning them over in her hand.

“I can’t say I’m a professional at this,” she warned. It didn’t really matter to either of you.

The Doctor took your other hand in his, standing face-to-face with you. You laughed at the domesticity of it.

“Do you,” the woman paused, looking at the Doctor.

“John Smith,” The Doctor smiled. You shook your head at his fake name. You had told him hundreds of times that he should change it. No one was really named John Smith, that's the kind of name you only ever found in books.

“Alright,” the woman said, not even blinking. “Do you, John Smith, take this woman to love and hold blah, blah, blah?” She finished, looking back to the Doctor. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were glued to you, studying every single aspect of your face. He never wanted to forget this moment. From your end of things, you were left with a sickly feeling that you had food on your face.

“I do,” He smiled brightly.

“And you?” she turned to you, repeating the process.

“Absolutely,” you grinned.

The woman handed you each a ring, which you placed on the other’s hand. You noted the slight shake in the Doctor’s hands as he slipped the silver band onto your finger.

You had always wanted to get married. Sure, you never imagined it like this. Standing in some random cottage in a pair of worn-out jeans exchanging wedding bands in order to save your life was never your plan. Even still, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You may kiss the bride,” The old woman chided, looking at you two disapprovingly. You were so busy looking into the Doctor’s eyes that you completely forgot about the whole kissing part of getting married.

A scarlet flush overtook your face, but the Doctor pretended not to notice. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands gently, angling it upwards towards his. Slowly, he dipped his way down until his lips were inches away from yours.

You could feel his breath on your mouth, you noted each and every twitch of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as he eliminated the gap, his mouth crashing into yours.

He very well could have given you a chaste kiss, the kind you give your gran on Christmas Eve. Instead, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he had been thinking about kissing you for eons.

His mouth fit against yours perfectly. There was no other way to describe it.

He pulled away slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless. Your eyes remained closed for a moment, taking it all in. When they finally opened, you saw him. Your Doctor. The impossible, magnificent, loving creature in front of you. It was foolish to claim that such a being was yours alone, but you couldn’t see it any other way.

“Congratulations,” the old woman smiled, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, pushing your hair out of your face.

You didn’t keep the ring on long. A few days after your wedding it came off with the rest of your jewelry before bed. You just never put it back on. It was a fake wedding after all.

That didn’t mean that you threw it away though. Quite the opposite. The ring sat on your bedside table, occasionally glimmering in the light.

Sometimes, you would run your fingers over it before bed. You relished the idea of it all. The memory of his hands holding yours, the feeling of his lips on yours. It haunted you.

The Doctor, however, never took it off. Not after the wedding. Not before bed. Not when he fiddled with the wires under the TARDIS console.

You noticed this one evening, the dimmed lights of the control room catching on the polished metal.

“Why do you still wear that?” you asked, gesturing to the Doctor’s left hand. His eyes traveled to the band on his finger that he had been idly spinning.

“It’s my wedding band,” he shrugged as if it was as simple as that.

“I’m not sure you can call it that,” you laughed, “I’m not even sure our wedding was legal.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he frowned, still looking at the ring.

“I can take it off if it bothers you,” he suggested. He didn’t want to take it off, not ever. But if you wanted him to, he would.

“It doesn’t,” you whispered, staring at the space where your own ring used to be. The feeling of his lips came back to you, and you had to push it to the side.

“Did it mean nothing to you?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening you might have missed it.

“Not at all,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You don’t wear yours,” he commented, taking your left hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, not trusting yourself to meet his eye.

“You married me to save my life,” you stated.

“And?”

“It was a fake marriage.”

“Not to me,” he whispered, running his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes drifted up to his face. He was looking at your hand with a pained expression. For the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps the absence of your ring was upsetting to him. For so long, you had assumed that he just wanted to forget the whole thing.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I always wanted you to be my wife.”

You didn’t know what to say. For a minute, you hardly believed the words coming from his mouth.

“I always wanted you to be my husband,” you whispered, leaning in towards him. You paused, your breath bouncing off of his lips. It reminded you of your first kiss, the familiarity of it shocking.

You learned in and kissed him gently, a tender kiss to test the waters. You pulled away, unsure if this was what he wanted. The Doctor gripped your face, crashing his lips against yours in a much more urgent matter. You smiled against his mouth, melting into the kiss.

“My wife,” he chuckled between the kisses he planted all over your face.

“My husband.”

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #doctor who #fanfic #fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #david tennant #fake marriage

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sophiethewitch1 · 3 months

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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fettuccin-e · 6 months

Text

Just This Once

Kinktober Day 18: Squirting + Dacryphilia

Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it before you tap it irl), fingering (r!recieving), squirting, light dacryphilia, Din being feral but also emotionally stunted (w/c: 1.7K)

A/N: Guess who fell behind on Kinktober again, womp womp. I will not give up though!! I am determined to finish, so please enjoy this Din fic that I may or may not have gotten too invested in while writing it and stay tuned for some more filth coming (and cumming hahaha) soon!! (for Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s something about the coldness of space, the loneliness of it, that makes you so desperate.

When the Crest is quiet, the baby asleep, all you can feel is the vastness of the universe around you, your body cold and needy for touch. And Maker, the Mandalorian notices immediately, the way you cross and uncross your legs in the seat behind him, curling your fingers into your thighs as the stars fly past the ship. You don’t mean to be obvious, but Din always notices.

He knows how to treat you when you get like this, all needy and desperate for his touch, even when you don’t want to admit it. Din is willing to admit that you are far more than just a friend to him, but you both narrowly avoid the strength of the feelings between you both, the bond that drags you together. But still, Din knows exactly what you need, and he has absolutely no problem giving it to you.

He has you splayed across his lap, your back pressed against his chestplate, your head lolling back onto his shoulder. He’d lost his gloves the moment you’d peeled off your pants, his hands the only skin he’ll allow himself to touch you with. It’s a wonderful loophole for you, but an exercise in torture for him. He wants to feel your back pressed against his bare chest, trace his lips down your neck. Wants to feel your heartbeat against his, quick and warm and alive.

This is the Way, he reminds himself, despite knowing, deep down, that he’s already broken something just by touching you without his gloves. But stars, how can he resist when your pretty, desperate little cunt pulses beneath his fingertips, begging for more, more, more.

He ghosts his fingers up the slick seam of your pussy, and has to hold back his own groan at the way you whine, pressing back against him as your hips twitch uncontrollably.

“Stars, you’re wet,” he grunts, pressing a thick finger into your entrance, already gaping with your need for something, anything to clutch onto. “Needed me this bad, cyar’ika?”

“‘M so- so empty, Din, fuck, it’s like,” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he starts fucking you with that one thick finger, feeling it drag across your walls. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe without you touching me, Maker, I need it all the time, Din.”

And it’s true. When you’d first started traveling with Din and the baby, you’d barely even noticed the loneliness. You’d been lonely your whole life, eager to escape your desolate little planet and see the stars.

But then Din had done this for the first time, when tensions had run too high, when things had gone just a little too far.

“Just this once,” he’d muttered, “Can I touch you?” he’d asked, and you’d said yes without a thought.

He’d peeled off his glove, touching your face gently, so gently with those calloused fingers. He’d laid you out on his small mattress, pressing the front of his helmet to your forehead as he let his hand roam the expanse of your body, squeezing your skin over your clothes before brushing them over your clit through your pants. When you’d jerked up and moaned, he could only let out a shaky exhale through his visor as he rubbed tight circles into it, enraptured by the way you whimpered and squirmed beneath him.

“Just once,” he kept muttering, even as he worked one, two orgasms out of your body, “just once.”

Except it happened again. And again. And again.

And now you can barely sleep without wanting, needing Din to touch you. He hasn’t fucked you; there’s an unspoken rule that he’s broken enough of the Creed for you, telling you his name, touching you like he does. You don’t question it, not when you’re the one getting fucked on his fingers until you’re in tears, ravenous for his hands on your body.

It’s like it gets worse as time goes on, your need for him. Even now, pressed against his chest as his thick thighs spread you wide for his hands, it’s like the first time. You writhe against him as he works another finger into your hot cunt, your slick covering his hand. You hump forward into them without meaning to, and you turn your head to tuck it into his cowl as he works you over.

Din fucks his fingers furiously into you, using his other arm to brace across your hips, keeping you pinned to him. He’s practically growling as he pumps his hand between your legs, crooking his fingers up to press against the spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him. He keeps his fingers pressed deep for a moment, just grinding the tips of them into that spot relentlessly and relishing in the way you cry his name so prettily.

“Din, please- oh fuck! Stars, it’s too much, it’s too much oh my- ah-” you wine, feeling tears start to build in your eyes as you edge dangerously close to that peak you need so bad.

“C’mon, mesh’la, let go for me, squeeze my fingers with this little cunt,” he growls, and fuck, you can’t even breathe as you let him work you over, making you cum so hard that you can’t do anything but gasp for air.

And Din can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Fuck, I-” you hear him say, and you turn your head to look at him, even as aftershocks wrack your body, even as his fingers stay buried inside.

“What, Din?” you whisper, and Din nearly curses at the sight of you. Your lashes are wet with tears, stars, why do you have to look at him like that? It wears at his carefully honed control, and fuck, he can practically feel it snap at the sight of you, as the feeling of you.

“Can I fuck you?” he rasps, and you hear him suck in a breath, “please let me fuck you.” You can't hold back the keening whine that leaves your mouth, and Din shivers behind you at the sound of it.

“Please,” you breathe, and Din pulls his fingers out of you without missing a beat, reaching behind you, between your bodies to pull his cock out of his pants haphazardly. You feel the hardness of it press against your lower back, and resist the urge to look. You don’t want to cross any more lines than he’s given you.

“Just this once,” he mutters, pulling your hips back over him, notching the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “Just need to feel you, once, fuck, just once,” and he pulls you down, down, letting his cock stretch you so wide, so perfect.

Months in space, just weeks of having Din touch you, stars, it’s nothing compared to this. You eyes roll to the back of your head as he settles deep inside, so fucking deep that it makes your toes curl.

“Dank farrik, that’s fucking tight-” he grunts, the hot, wet heat of your cunt pulsing around him almost making him fill you up right then and there. He bites his tongue, praying to the Maker that the pain stops him from ending this far too fucking soon.

He uses his hard, strong grip on your hips to roll you into him, grinding you down hard onto his cock. You can only take it as he punches his hips up in aborted, desperate little thrusts that grind into your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Din, it’s so big, I can’t-” you whine, but Din only growls beneath his visor, fucking up into you harder, and your head falls back onto his shoulder plate at the feeling of it. It’s so perfect, it’s everything you’ve needed, stars, how will you survive without him filling you up like this?

“Give me another one, cyare,” he mutters, and he uses one of his hands to bring his fingers to your clit, just like he did that first night. Except this time, his cock is inside you, spreading you so wide and pressing up into your g-spot with every fucking thrust in. You gasp for air, little whines punching out of your throat every time Din shoves in all the way.

He’s a violent man, always has been, and fucking you is no exception. He fucks you like he hunts: fast, rough, fucking monstrous. Tears finally start to pour down your cheeks, and you hiccup through your moans.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “sobbing on my cock like the needy whore you are.” He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, he’s never talked like this, let alone to you. But stars, the way you moan for him has his head spinning, has words pouring out of his mouth like they’ve been trapped there all this time. “Mesh’la, squeezing me so perfect, never want to leave this perfect cunt.”

“Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna- stars, I’m gonna-” you gasp, your hands scrabbling at the one hand he has rubbing at your swollen clit.

“C’mon, c’mon, let me feel it, need to fucking feel it-” he mutters, and oh-

You’re pretty sure you scream as you cum, but it’s hard to hear it over the ringing in your ears as you thrash in Din’s lap. You can feel him still inside you, his horrible fingers still rubbing dexterous circles into your clit as he floods your cunt with his cum. Your orgasm feels fucking endless, your thighs trying to close but still held wide by Din’s between them.

When you finally start to hear again, the blurriness fading from your vision, you can hear Din behind you, muttering, “fuck, so beautiful, didn’t- didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do- do what?” you slur, still groggy, but as you look in front of yourself, you can see the mess you’ve made. You’d fucking squirted, your wetness drenching his thighs and the floor of the hull. The sight makes your head spin, and you hide your face in his cowl as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you close to him. The coolness of his armor is soothing to your overly-heated body.

“So good, you did so good for me, cyar’ika,” he mumbles beneath the visor. “So pretty, can’t believe- you looked so beautiful.”

You let yourself relax into his hold, and he doesn’t let you go. “Didn’t know I could do that either,” you mumble, sleep already weighing down your eyelids, exhaustion flooding your body. “We’ll have to try again later,” you mumble. “Don’t think once is enough.”

“It will never be enough,” you hear him whisper, “not with you.”

#touch starved and feral din #love of my life #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #star wars smut

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rafescurtainbangz · 3 months

Text

Professor Cameron #2 - Rafe Cameron One Shot + 18

Minor DNI

Part 1: Link

Rafe × female reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut, language, swearing, drinking and smoking

Fingering, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, praise kink, ownership kink, older Rafe, possessive rafe, jealous rafe, obsessed rafe, choking, spanking, degradation, name-calling, pussy slapping, mating press, reader calls rafe daddy

Lightly edited

4.1K

Don't let the beginning fool it’s a lot of smut lmao 😂 thank you for all the love on part 1! 💕💕💕

Taglist @imyourdaninow @gri959 @redhead1180 @romaescapes

Enjoy! ❤️✨

Tanneyhill...

Later that night

"Holy shit," you whisper, eyes following Rafe's house all the way to the top. The grandeur of it all begs the question, does a professor really live here? I mean, I'm sure the university pays him well, but not this well. This is old money.

Tracking the brick walk, you make your way to the front door, smoothing out a very different ensemble than you wore this afternoon. You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful at this moment that you decided to dress up. Your pink satin mini-dress blows lightly with the cool night breeze, an open back cinched tight, showing off your curves.

Truthfully, I didn't think that would happen. Just teasing between friends until that fictional tale came true. I never thought he would actually cross the line.

Rafe was right... The boys at school weren't cutting it. They were selfish, inexperienced, and immature. That was only an hour? What could Rafe do with a whole night? On a bed instead of a desk? He said he had a 'real big house,' which is the understatement of the century. I can make as much noise as I'd like. He's going to take care of me... Me.

I've never felt pleasure like that in my life. The part that excited me the most was that I was holding back, not wanting to get caught. What would happen if I let myself go? The part that scares me, however, is the fact that I'm already in too deep.

What if Rafe's thought about it since? Not in the way I'm hoping he would, the way that would stop him from doing it again. A moment of clarity where Rafe realizes that he may have made a mistake. I'm his student... He's my professor.

What if he's doing this with other people? What if I'm not the only student in Professor Cameron's class getting "extra credit"? Am I just another one of his girls?

I can't think about that.

I'm feeling things. And, I can't stop.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

You can hear shuffling behind the door, watching as the knob turns. The door fans open; Rafe meets your gaze with a smile. "You... Wow. You look stunning," he hails, bearing the door as you pass through.

Fuck, he looks good. You feel yourself get a little frazzled as you take Rafe in. A slim black button-down and slacks, coupled with yet another pair of designer dress shoes. He smells delicious; that same cologne reapplied, already burned into your brain. "You alright?" He smiles, looking down at you.

"More than alright, Rafe. Just a little nervous."

"About what?" He puffs, cocking his head to the side as he shuts the door. "Told ya I didn't bite. Not unless you want me to," Rafe chuckles warmly, turning you under his finger as he checks out your little dress again. "Goddamn. You're flawless."

"Thank you," you whisper as your cheeks blush. Rafe keeps his hand in yours, guiding you deeper into his house, letting you take it all in.

"So, what are you so nervous about?" Rafe presses a little further, not wanting to let it go until he figures it out.

"I don't know... I didn't expect to be here. I'm just - I hope you aren't having second thoughts."

"Me?" He chuckles; twisting his face slightly as a crooked smile spreads on his lips. "Never. No second thoughts."

"Okay... And, am I the only one-"

"Who's gettin' extra credit?" He snickers, reading your mind entirely. "You are the only one."

"Ever?" You ask, your voice just above a hush, kicking yourself for asking it in the first place to a grown-ass man. Rafe turns you toward him, lacing his fingers in yours; his lips meet your forehead, kissing you softly.

"If you're askin' if I've ever had sex in an office, and I said 'no,' I'd be lyin'," he chuckles weakly. His palms come up, resting gently on your cheeks, guiding your watch to his. "But, if you're askin' me if I've ever done that with a student... never. I've never done that."

You give him a soft smile. "I'm so happy I'm here with you."

"Me too," he hums. "Now, let's go relax. Yeah?" You nod as Rafe leans in, meeting your lips; kissing you deeply. Heat spreads across your body; the contact sets you ablaze, your entire being craving more of him.

Rafe walks you to his study, the mahogany countertop, adorned with six elegant bouquets. "Do you like flowers, princess?" He smiles; his hand resting on the small of your back.

"Of course," you respond dreamily, bending in to smell each. "Six? Rafe, this-"

"I didn't know what your favorite was..." He interjects, "Pink roses?" Rafe guesses, based solely on your reaction.

"Yeah, pink roses," you giggle. "Thank you."

He steers you to his leather couch, taking a seat. Before you can sink down, his hands are on you, guiding you to straddle his lap. You rest your hands lightly on his muscular chest as Rafe eyes you in his arms. His rough hands graze your back, landing on your bum; kneading your curves slowly.

"M'so glad you're here," he soughs, his lust-laced eyes locked on your lips. His crystal blues lift slowly to yours, sending chills down your spine. "You're still nervous sweetheart? Aren't you?"

You shake your head 'no' as you lean in close, kissing him tenderly. His hands drift down your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress. "I'm not... I swear," you whisper as you widen your thighs, pressing your pussy against his rock-hard bulge as you start to grind slowly. Your lips hover close, Rafe, matching your steady breathing. Tension builds as you wait for the other to break.

Rafe kisses you deeply, a passionate exchange, pushing your hips to ride him clothed. "Need to taste you again. Fuck, you tasted so sweet," he mumbles between kisses. Rafe wraps you in his arms, lifting you off the couch. "Just a little bit now. I need it. Don't let me go any farther. Alright? Not yet."

He rests you back down on the couch, pulling you where he wants you, your body desperate for his lips. Rafe drops himself down to his knees for you, taking control as he spreads your thighs, eyeing your glistening cunt with a hungry groan. "No panties?" He chuckles darkly, his dangerous gaze flickering to yours. Rafe brushes your folds, gathering your essence all over his fingers, before sucking them clean as your eyes roll back. "M'so fuckin' hard, princess. Can't wait for you to suck my cock; make me cum again. Get that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick," he sighs. His strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, slumping you on the couch.

Rafe's eyes stay locked on yours as his lips do the same to your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side. He moans against your pussy, as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing your pearl with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him.

"C'mon, baby," he taunts, spreading you wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more force. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

"Hey... Woah. Woah... Wait a minute, baby girl," he chides. "Need to hear you. Alright?"

"Yes, daddy..."

"Well, shit..." Rafe rasps as he grabs your legs, slinging them over his shoulders. "I could get used to that."

Everything increases; your heart rate, the pressure, the depth of his tongue in your soaked hole. "You taste like heaven," he pants, bumping his nose against your clit, making your thighs quake. Rafe laps at your pussy, devouring you completely. He breathes deeply, taking in your scent; the vibration of his low moan felt against your heat.

Rafe takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, making you cry out; heels digging into his black dress shirt as you buck your hips; voice echoing through the large house. "There ya go... Atta girl."

Your back arches, lips crying out for him. "Fuck, Rafe. M'right there," you blubber. You reach for your satin straps, tugging down the top of your dress, letting your breasts spill free. Your hands instantly draw up to your tits, squeezing and pressing them together for him. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit; making you throw your head back. A choked sob spills from your lips.

Your hands drop down, weaving into his hair, giving it a rough tug. You grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "Rafe, s-shit." Your eyes screw shut as you cum on his face, pleasure coursing through your system as your pussy clamps down around his thick fingers. Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you're fully unwound to release you with a panting breath.

"Need it - Fuck. I need your cock in my mouth," you gasp; eyes still shut as you do your best to recover.

"Baby, c'mon..." He chuckles breathily as his lips find yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, making your mind fuzzy. "I wanna share a drink. Take you on a tour... You were supposed to hold me back. You can wait. Right?" You can hear the taunting in his tone, a devilish smirk playing on his kiss-bitten lips.

"Yes, daddy."

Rafe cups your breasts in his hands. Pinching and rolling your pebbled blush between his fingers. He sucks down, trailing wet kisses before biting your sensitive skin, causing you to moan again. "You're mine," he whispers, nuzzling himself into your chest. "I don't want anyone else to have you but me. Understand?"

"What - Wait..." You ask breathlessly. "I mean. Are you sure, Rafe? You barely know me. What if I didn't come into your office today-"

"You would have... eventually. I just got lucky. I always get what I want, princess. I don't wanna see you come into class with anyone else. Don't wanna overhear some douchebag talkin' about some absolutely stunning girl he took home from the bar. You're mine. My pussy," he breathes, making your breath hitch as he slaps your sensitive cunt, soothing it with his cupped palm. "My tits," he mumbles, licking a line through your cleavage as he palms them together. "My lips," he whispers as he kisses you again. "My fuckin' girl. Mine."

"M'yours, Rafe."

**********

"So, you're a professor? Just a professor?" You ask through a flirty grin as you swirl your champagne.

"Yeah... Got bored. Decided to go to college, then grad school; got my doctorate for fun," he rasps before taking a sip.

"So..." You look around, letting your silence speak for itself.

"I made some smart business decisions when I was young. Set myself up nicely."

"Mob boss?" You quip, making him cock his brow and laugh.

"If I told you, princess. I'd have to kill you." Rafe plays along, shooting you a mischievous look. "So, you're pretty far from home. You plannin' on going back for Spring Break, or are you gonna hang around here?"

You laugh nervously, wrinkling your brow, confused yet intrigued, charmed that he went out of his way to find out more about you. "How do you know where I'm from?"

He clears his throat, regretting his words slightly, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt on his thick forearms as he shifts anxiously. "Uh... Um," he puffs, draining some more liquor into his champagne flute. "Your student account," he mumbles sheepishly.

"Professor Cameron!" You gasp, flirtingly, as you lean in a little closer.

"S'bad. Alright. I know. I know! I couldn't help myself. I had to be proactive. Alright? High stakes. I gotta be real careful who I associate myself with."

"And you can associate yourself with me, Rafe?"

"Yeah. I have a good intuition, princess. Questionin' yours a little," he bullies. "That neighborhood you live in is shit, by the way. It's not safe, baby."

Your eyes double in surprise. The more he exposes, the more it should worry me, I know, but he's pulling me deeper. He's possessive, calculated, obsessed even. But, I fuckin' love it. How much more does he know about me?

I need to know.

"You look handsome," you laud; just a slight bite of your lip as you lean into the armrest, hair tumbling to the side. You cross your legs, letting your little dress ride up your thigh.

His eyebrows raise, running his palm against his wide smile, attempting to play it cool as he stares at the valley of your thigh. "Just tryin' to keep up with you, baby. You look stunning. Did you wear that-"

"On New Year's Eve..." You finish his sentence as a smirk pulls on your lips, Rafe taking the bait effortlessly. "Do you follow me on Instagram?"

"No... Just stalk you," he admits, not an ounce of shame in his voice. He can see that you clearly enjoy his attention. "Like I said... Gotta be careful who I keep around. Not to mention, I had to keep an eye on who else was watchin' you. I don't share." He smirks before tossing back the rest of his champagne. Oh...

"That's all you did, Rafe? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"

He gives you an open-mouth smile as a blush creeps across his cheeks. "You really wanna know?"

"I really wanna know..."

"That red swimsuit you wore in Cabo might be my favorite thing, princess."

You roll your eyes, expelling a dizzy laugh. "So... Again, Professor Cameron, is that all you did? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"You bully before taking a sip.

His gaze darkens on yours, the look in his eyes telling you more than enough. "Absolutely not."

Rafe adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as he pinches a fresh cigar between his lips. He reaches over to the coffee table, snagging the Perrier-Joute, drinking from the bottle. You can see that he's getting more comfortable as time passes by, as well. Laughing a little more, a few more buttons on his shirt undone, drinking straight from the source.

"So, Rafey," you ask in an unholy tone as you stroll from your chair to his, dropping down to your knees to slink the rest of the way. "Is there anything I can do for you? I really need that A."

He quickly forgets his cigar, resting it in the ashtray without a second thought. Rafe extends the bottle to you, pouring it carefully, some still dribbling from your glossed lips down your chin. He leans down, pinching your cheeks in one hand, licking the mess to your lips. "I got a few things you can do for me, princess."

"Tell me," you whisper, fingering the buttons of his Dior button-down before pulling it open fully. Your fingers trace down his tanned chest, passing through the deep indentations of his abs to his black leather belt.

You can already see his long, thick cock; trapped in Italian wool, making your mouth water. "Since you're on your knees," Rafe smiles as he pinches the button of his pants, opening that, then the zipper. "Why don't you choke on daddy's cock. Hmm?" You can feel the wetness between your thighs, the soft sweetness of his voice contrasting his domineering words, making your head spin. You draw the material over his hips, releasing his aching dick.

You glide your fingers through your pussy; gathering your slick on your digits, taking hold of the base of Rafe's cock. He shakes his head and smiles as his teeth tug on his bottom lip. You work him slowly, watching as the little bead of precum grows larger.

Rafe's hand toils through your hair, brushing it away so he can get a better view of your face. "So pretty on your knees, baby-" Rafe's words get lost in a moan as your warm tongue traces along his prominent vein, catching his cum as it drips down the side.

You lick a few fat stripes up his shaft, kissing his ruddy tip wetly as his dick twitches in your palm. "Fuck, honey," he groans deeply, tossing his head back on the leather chair. "Might not ever let you leave." His hold on your strands tightens as your warm, wet mouth wraps around his swollen tip. A deep moan follows as you suckle on Rafe's head, flicking your tongue along his slit. You caress his balls, taking him to the back of your throat.

Rafe pushes you a little farther, releasing a needy moan as you deepthroat cock. Tears roll heavily down your cheeks as you take as much of him as you can get, gliding off slowly; swirling to the tip, making Rafe's eyes roll back. "Jesus Christ, angel, where's that gag reflex? Huh?" He laughs airly. "So good at sucking cock." Rafe pitches his hips, ramming you deep, making you gag. "Mmm... Shit. There she is," he groans.

Rafe slumps a little lower as he lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a pull. "Gonna bust my load already... Damn, you look good," he praises through a panting breath, making his stomach muscles flex. His thick thighs tremble as you start to stroke him with your mouth, rolling his heavy balls in your tiny hand. You release his cock with a pop, causing him to let out a desperate plea for more.

"M'so wet, Rafe," you whine, feeling your wetness drip from your pussy, gliding down your inner thigh. You take two fingers, skimming them through the mess. Rafe's already set, snatching your wrist; guiding your dainty fingers to his mouth.

He savors the taste, only releasing them when you tighten your lips around his dick again. Twisting your hand at the base, you bob up and down. Rafe follows your strokes, pressing you down here and there as he mumbles praise. "Lips look so good around my cock, sweetheart. Look at you, take it, baby. Such a good little slut f'me. Gag on it. Fuckin' gag on me. Mine... This mouth is fucking mine."

You hollow your cheeks, milking his cock with your mouth, making him whimper and shift in his chair as his eyes slam shut. "I'm right fuckin' there. I - I'm... Fuckkk," he moans, hazy eyes widening as you sink your pussy down on his dick instead.

"Bounce on my cock. Tits in your face," you whisper against his lips, repeating his words from his office as you lower the top of your dress as well.

"You're a fantasy, baby. Fuck." Rafe slaps your ass cheek roughly, then the other side, hissing out a breath as your pussy tightens around him. Rafe pants and groans, his muscles wound tight as he tries to hold steady, watching you as you ride and bounce on top. He's speechless, eyes moving from your face to your breasts; losing control when he glances down, watching the place where you connect; his thick cock glistening with you.

"Fuck me," he grunts in blissful defeat, taking a harsh grip on your hips, pounding deep. Rafe moans your name as he cums hard, continuing to fuck upward, gritting his teeth in overstimulation. No part of him wants to stop now that he has you like this. Rafe pulls you into his lips, kissing you slowly as you grind through his sticky spent.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, feeling Rafe's smile spread against your lips.

"No, princess. Don't fuckin' stop."

********

Your garter belt wraps around your thighs, lingerie hugging the fullness of your breasts; something new, something bought by Rafe just for you. It's a gorgeous set; cups made of two large satin ribbons tied at the center; your crotchless panties, a delicate red lace.

"C'mon, princess. Stop makin' me wait," he croons.

"This is too much, Rafe... I don't need all of this. Truly," you sigh as you round the corner, relaxing against the doorframe.

Rafe licks his lip, savoring each glimpse of bare skin. "Nah... This one's for me." He pushes off the bed, moving toward you, pulling you close before kissing you deeply, breaking away from time to time, solely to take you in. "Better than I imagined..."

"You thought about this?" You hum.

"More than I should, princess," Rafe breathes, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as you bend your arms a little tighter around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rafe walks you over to the bed slowly, taking his time as you press your chest against his, hearts picking up pace together. He sets you down on the mattress, mounting you a moment later.

Rafe's absolutely beautiful like this: dark blonde hair a mess, flushed cheeked, skin dewy. He cages you in, admiring you for a moment before starting again. He grinds his dick against you, trailing pre cum on your skin as he works his body against yours. Rafe continues to tease the both of you, his cock, painfully hard as you wait for him to ease your ache.

He swirls his dick through your arousal, nudging your entrance with his swollen head. Rafe gives you one last look before dropping his focus low. "Shittt," he groans as your walls pull him in. He fights the urge to throw his hips into you, working slow enough to let you feel every curve and ridge until he's filled you to the brim. You don't even realize you're holding your breath until he rests his heavy head on your shoulder.

"Fuck, Rafe."

"Squeezin' me so tight," he breathes. Rafe completely bottoms you out, balls resting against your ass. He grips your hips, forcing himself even deeper, pressing his cock into you with his full weight making you squirm away slightly.

"Where are you goin', Princess?" He mumbles against your warm skin, the safeword you joked about during dessert right on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

"Nowhere, daddy," you pant as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to stay.

"My girl," Rafe growls, lips latching onto your neck, sucking harshly. He marks you with his lips, branding you with what will surely leave behind a dark purple hickey. His teeth sink into your skin, causing you to whimper.

Rafe starts to rock his cock into you, nailing your sweet spot each time. You wrap your arms around him, marking him in your own way as your manicured nails drive into his skin. Rafe moans your name, getting off on the ache.

His body drags away from yours, tugging at the bow between your breasts, letting the satin fall to your sides as he changes positions. Rafe starts to stroke as hands move from your hips to your breasts, gripping them tight, pinching and rolling your nipples before settling on your neck.

You wait impatiently for his grasp as Rafe studies his skin on yours. He smirks wickedly, watching the way his rings glint in the low lighting, his hand wrapped like a necklace around your pretty little throat.

Rafe tightens his grip, making your eyes roll back as he pumps into slow and deep, snapping his hips each time. You can feel yourself a little more breathless than before; your pulse felt under his heavy hand. You let out a choked cry as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles on top.

"Faster," you beg, your voice cock-drunk and hoarse.

"Mmm... Bet my little slut wants it harder too. Yeah?"

"Yes - Fuck," you squeal. Your breasts bounce with each clap of his hips, his fat tip kissing your g-spot with each thrust. Rafe gives it to you harder and faster as you feel your pleasure about to boil over.

He's just as pussy-drunk, eyes glossed, pupils blown. Your eyes flutter closed, drool seeping out of the corner of your plump lips. You feel Rafe's breath on your skin, his soft tongue cleaning you off just as he did with the champagne, spitting it back into your open mouth this time.

His tongue tangles with yours, sloppy and breathless, as you swallow each other's sounds. "M'gonna cum," you gasp, feeling tears of pleasure well in your eyes.

"Me too, baby. You gonna make a mess? Let me clean it up for you," he pants.

"Yeah-ahh," you answer shakily. Warm liquid squirts from your sex, soaking Rafe's thick cock and his expensive sheets. "Fuck, Rafe," you whimper. I can't believe I just did that... I've only seen that in porn. Rafe quickly snuffs out your embarrassment as he coaxes you further.

"Fuck, baby. Just like that. I think my girls got more in her. Don't you?" He grunts, not letting up, applying more pressure to your clit. You feel it again; a second release, Rafe fucking you through the spurts of your climax.

Rafe was right. He always gets what he wants.

"Gonna cum... Gonna fill you so full, Princess. Fuck," he moans.

"Cum in my pussy, daddy."

Rafe's eyes roll back at the sounds of your voice, his release following close behind, muscles tightening as he floods you with his finish. He throws his head back, breathing deeply as he comes down from his high.

"Co'mere..." You whisper. Rafe gives you a satisfied smile, burying himself in your neck; holding you close for a moment before rolling you on top.

You rest your head on his chest, listening as his heart starts to slow with his breathing. Rafe's rough fingertips skim your spine as he releases a deep breath. "Mmm... Baby?" He mumbles sleepily, wrapping you tightly in his arms.

"Yes," you whisper, blissed out and breathless as you meet his beautiful eyes.

"You're never leaving."

939 notes · View notes

0nlythrowharrybeaux · 4 months

Text

A Twist of Fate

Y/N and Harry are exes who have moved on wit their lives and with other people, but have never stopped loving each other. And in an unbelievable twist of fate reconnect. But after all that time, can they still have a future together?

A Twist of Fate Masterlist

WARNINGS: A wee bit of emotional cheating and a steamy unfaithful make out WITH A VERY CUTE moment with the shaved head 🥹🫶

WC: 15K

To Harry, you had always been the one that got away. Your time together had been so good. You both grew and learned, and loved so much but life just got in the way. The split broke you both because you were certain that no matter what, at the end of the day it would always be you together. Learning that it wouldn’t be was devastating.

For a while you even stopped believing in love and in the good of the universe. Because if love was real, how cruel did the universe actually have to be to tear you apart? It had been a love like neither of you had ever experienced. Your souls were alight for each other and every interaction you exchanged, every hug, every kiss, every glance, every touch fed the fire of your love and passion for each other for five wonderful years. And when the time came for it to end it was heart wrenching. There was just far too much conflict in time and distance, it sometimes felt like your managers were doing it on purpose, you both knew it wasn’t true, of course. You were just starting to reach new levels of fame and were in high demand and you couldn’t keep doing what you were doing to yourselves in trying to make it work.

So when Harry signed on to yet another film and you had gone into the studio for your album you had to reevaluate your relationship. It had to be done over the phone while there was an entire ocean between you because even though it was the wrong way to go about it, you just couldn’t look into each other’s eyes while admitting defeat. There was absolutely no way. It was hard to even breathe at first, but with time it got a bit better and better, and soon you’d met other people and were on your way to being happy like before. But that brought you to this day. After years of being broken up and never speaking or seeing each other you were both frozen in the hallway of a studio in Los Angeles looking right at each other. Time was at a standstill as you just stared for a moment. Both completely shocked at your run in. Harry’s tongue suddenly felt heavy and knotted up and his hands felt like they were prickling. He just wanted to reach out and touch you.

“Y/N, I’ve missed you.” He finally said. But you barely heard it over the obnoxiously loud pounding of your heart.

“I missed you too.” You whispered breathlessly as you looked him over. A smile came to your lips as you admired him from up close. You chuckled and shook your head because his hair was gone! And he looked great. So well rested, stronger, taller, and more youthful somehow.

“Can I hug you?” He asked and at his question you hurried into his arms, not bothering with a response.

As soon as you touched everything felt better. The fires in your hearts were burning again because the love had never run out. If anything it got stronger with the distance somehow. But things were not as they used to be. He had a girlfriend of nearly a year now and you had just started dating someone just a couple months prior. You had been resigned to the fact that for your circumstance, love just wasn’t enough so you both moved on. The embrace was long, you were taking your time in his arms and he was taking in your scent. How he missed the sweet and inviting smell that wafted around you like a cloud. It seemed like it had been too soon when you started pulling back from his hold, but he willed himself to loosen his grip to give you the space to depart from him.

“Your hair!” You smiled brightly and he chuckled.

“I know…After the tour ended it just felt like the end of an era, you know? Time for a big change.” He smiled through his explanation and you nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, I get that. I love it! It looks great!” You complimented as you looked him over once more.

“Yeah?” He asked timidly and you nodded quickly. He knew he didn’t need your approval, but having it made him feel even better about his decision.

“How long are you in town?” You asked, your hands slid down his arms from around his neck and landed in his. Feeling your soft and warm skin meeting his own had his mind going fuzzy. He could feel his heart reaching out to you with how hard it pounded.

“I uh- I leave tomorrow. I just had a quick thing I needed to take care of. Was only here a few days.” He said and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Gone so soon…a tease of fate.

“Oh.” You responded and he nodded, a sad smile came over his face.

“Yeah.” He squeezed your hands a bit harder, “Ummm, I’m at the Roosevelt. In the Marylin Monroe suite. Maybe we can grab dinner tonight, around 8?” He asked hopefully and you frowned. The universe was heartless and cruel, it was confirmed.

“I actually can’t tonight, Harry. I have plans with my…” you trailed off before shifting your gaze down to the buttons of his shirt. They were all done up now, unlike before, when he barely bothered after the third one up.

“Someone you’re seeing?” He asked and you nodded, not able to look at him as you confirmed.

“Sorry.” You said, finally looking back into his eyes.

“I’m not- I mean, it’s alright. That you’re, you know, putting yourself out there.” He put on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah?” You asked and he nodded. You were holding onto each other for dear life, “I’m happy I ran into you, though. I missed you. Been thinking about you lately as well.” You said again through a small smile.

“I’m really happy I got to see you too.” He confirmed through his own smile; it was definitely genuine this time.

“Well, I should get going and let you get to the studio.” You said and he nodded.

“Right. C’mere.” He said pulling you back in for a hug. This time you inhaled his own warm, musky, and familiar scent as his warmth settled into your own body. “Take good care of yourself.” He mumbled to you before kissing the side of your head.

“You too, H.” You hummed before you let go and you continued down the hall. You stopped and turned back to see that he was still standing there, watching you leave and you smiled, planting a kiss to your palm and pretending like you threw it at him and he smiled brightly as he pretended he caught it and pressed his palm to his heart and you waved before you left the building.

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

“You seem distracted.” Caitlyn, your best friend, pointed out as she glanced over from her desk to you, sitting across from her, just staring out the window behind her.

“I know, I’m sorry…I don’t think I’ll be much help for brainstorming right now.” You said and Caitlyn frowned.

“What happened?”

“I was doing Seb the favor of dropping off a demo of a new song to his producer and on my way out I ummm…H-harry was there.” You said and Caitlyn’s eyes went wide.

“What the hell? I thought he was in London!” She gasped.

“He will be tomorrow. S’his last night.” You explained.

“Are you alright?” She asked you right away.

“I think so…he invited me to dinner at his hotel, but I have plans with Seb tonight so I can’t.”

“Well maybe it’s for the best, friend. I mean…I know how it was with you guys and like, I know you’re both good people, but maybe it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to have dinner with him at his hotel. Alone.” Caitlyn reasoned and you nodded.

“Yeah, I think you’re right…I mean, besides, he has a girlfriend too so best not to do something platonic that could seem sketchy."

“Exactly.” Caitlyn concurred. “Well, are you feeling OK? Did it bring anything up for you?”

“Just a little sadness… nostalgia? I mean, we put in so much work, you know? I swear we were endgame.” You said quietly with some disappointment.

“Yeah…did he seem happy?”

“I guess? I didn’t ask really. I don’t want to know…” you sighed, “Buzzed his head though.” You smiled and Caitlyn gasped audibly.

“No way!” She laughed in disbelief.

“Yeah! It’s a different look, but he looks really good. It suits him more than I would expect.” You chuckled and then fell silent for a few seconds.

“Y/N, do you still…have feelings for him?” Caitlyn asked carefully and you sighed.

“Think I’ll always have feelings for him…” you said lowly. “Like, it’s Harry!” You said and Caitlyn pouted and nodded in understanding. “It was definitely nice to see him though, even if it was fast.”

“Well maybe it’s good that it was a brief run in. Didn’t have to linger and talk about things that would make you both even more sad.” Caitlyn suggested.

“Maybe I need to be more sad…like I’ve been in a bit of a slump writing-wise…” you said.

“Use this sad, Y/N. The nostalgia, the not knowing, the wondering, you really don’t need more than that.” Caitlyn said and you sighed, “And don’t google him. Or his girlfriend.” She warned and you cackled.

“Of course not! I’m not you.” you quipped with a teasing grin.

“Look, cyberstalking is a necessary evil sometimes.”

“I can’t agree with that statement.” You chuckled.

“Just because you suck at it…” Caitlin sassed.

“I don’t think internet stalking is a skill to be proud of, Cait.” You giggled.

“Look, all I know is that one day, my skills will come in handy.” She said simply and you knocked your head back as you laughed at your best friend’s nonsense.

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

Harry had not been able to stop thinking about you since the afternoon. He had made a quick detour to LA to meet with some of his producers. He was planning to take a bit of a longer break to focus on other projects and passions and just live for himself a little bit. He was just outlining a plan for his next album since he had already renewed his contract.

In truth, he was glad that he had been able to tour when he did because you had just ended things. He just went right into entertain mode and got so much out of his system. But being back on the road, meeting new people, putting himself back out there, it helped a lot. And then the one thing he thought wasn’t possible happened. He met someone else and he moved on. He felt that he had moved into it quite fast as they’d only been friends for a month or so, but they’d been together almost a year now and it was going well. Was he happy? He was. Wasn’t he?

Obviously, he knew he’d eventually see you but he wasn’t ready for it now. It wasn’t the best time because while he’d moved on, you still had an effect on him. He still dreamt of you sometimes. He still felt butterflies in his stomach when he thought of you, even now when he remembered how you had hugged him. He loved the way your fingers felt as you skimmed them down his arms before you could hold his hands just for a moment. You looked so good too…you’d always opted for shorter hair, to the shoulders or a bit less, but it was longer now, it suited you. Your eyes were bright and your smile just as warm and inviting as it had always been. He would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t skip a beat when he saw you. But being in your presence like that, it suddenly felt like no time had passed at all.

He felt kind of stupid for asking you to dinner…in hindsight it was good that you were busy. To be alone with you while his heart and tummy were doing all these weird and fluttery things that they did every time he was around you, that couldn’t be a great idea.

The hardest thing to get over was that he loved how he felt around you, it was magical. Your energies matched so well. What you had together had was unmatched, there wasn’t anyone who had brought that same feeling to him before or now. You cared for him in ways that made him feel seen and understood as a person, the whole of him, good and bad…he had no idea how you did it, but it just came so naturally from you. Your ability to relate and communicate and accept other people as they were was innate and he missed that about you. He missed how easy it was to receive the kind of love and care that you gave and that he needed. Not that he wasn’t feeling cared for now, he definitely was, but it wasn’t the same as with you of course…no one was you. He snapped out of his thoughts when his phone started ringing loudly, cutting off the music he was running to.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He greeted Jeffrey who was on the other line.

“Hey H, how’d the meeting go?”

“Good. We set a schedule for the next couple of things so that’s squared away.”

“Excellent.” Jeffrey hummed, “Look man, I know you’re supposed to be taking off tomorrow but someone reached out to me from A24 about a possible Bowie bio pic. They’re really interested in talking to you about it.”

“I don’t know, Jeff…”

“I told them you might not be interested, but they were really insistent that you’d be great for the role and just wanted to pick your brain a bit. You definitely don’t have to commit to anything yet, they just want to talk to you about it.” He said and he hummed pensively.

“When’s the meeting?”

“They said Thursday of next week. They have this like vision board and a script they want to have you look over and whatnot.”

“Can it be sooner?”

“Nope. The director is on some remote site for another project now and will be back in town on Thursday.” Harry sighed upon hearing this.

“Fuck…fine. I’ll wait it out then. Can you get me another room then? I still have to check out of here tomorrow.”

“Yeah man, I’ll take care of it now and send the details over, alright?”

“Sounds good. Talk soon.”

“Yep, love you man. Bye.”

“Love ya’. Bye.” Harry said and then hung up.

Honestly, Harry had no interest in doing this film, he was certain they could get someone else, someone far better in his opinion. And he’d definitely watch it, but right now he had every interest in staying longer and getting to see you again. As reckless as it might be to see you with all of these feelings brewing in him, it was a need. It brought him back to old times, where even when you’d be busy, you’d do reckless things like stay extra days in a country just to be able to cross paths while you both worked. Or fly from one end of the US to the other just to have dinner…it was kind of an awful habit to just do things like that on a whim, but he felt that he could handle this. After all, old habits die hard and indulging in something that reminded him of how in love he was, despite the struggles, it was worth remembering.

***********

All throughout dinner so far you had been thinking of Harry. How maybe you should’ve made an alternate plan to see him after dinner. Like maybe grab coffee, or a glass of wine, perhaps visit your favorite ice cream shop…but you halted yourself when it got to the ice cream because that would be far too special for just a catch up. That’s the place you realized you were in love with him and surely the resurgence of those feelings would be strong, to say the least.

“What’s going on, babe?” Sebastian asked you and you huffed.

“Just had a weird day.” You explained as you played with your food a bit more, hoping that your appetite would increase.

“Why’s that?”

“I ummm… I saw Harry.” You decided to just tell him straight up.

Sebastian had been someone you’d known for a while, ever since you were starting out. You would semi-frequently run into each other at open mic nights, karaoke bars, talent shows, scouting shows. You weren’t close friends or anything deep, you just had drinks with the other few people who were nice and chill and struggling to get their big break. Luckily, yours came quite swiftly and then you were out of that scene. He’d never gotten your number, but when you made it and your first song went #1 he did send you a fan letter, as he had no other way to reach you. And he was so happy for you and proud of you, and you reached out. That’s when you learned he was in talks with a label then too. He gave you his number and you started catching up a bit and then Harry happened and you friend zoned him (according to him, you had never really been interested like that). Once you got with Harry you were MIA for a bit, you just didn’t know who you could trust at the start since Harry was far more famous and super private about everything, understandably so.

But then, Harry met all your friends, Seb included, and he saw how you were with Harry and he let go of whatever hope he had that you two could be together. He had shared that with you a bit after you’d gotten together. He just couldn’t believe that after dating someone as big as Harry you’d give him a chance. But in all fairness, anyone who had experienced you and Harry together could tell you how palpable your love was. How intense and dedicated you were to each other for the near five years you spent together. Lots of conversations started with a “When you guys get married…” and you wouldn’t bat an eye. Of course you wanted to get married and have a life together. All this to say that Sebastian knew what it meant or could mean for you to see Harry again. He had been there for all of it and now he was a bit scared…

“Today?” He asked and you nodded.

“Well, it was more of a running into type of situation than a deliberate seeing each other.” You explained.

“I see. Where?”

“At the studio. I was on my way out as he was coming in for something.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so…I’m just…I don’t know, it brought up a lot of shit, you know?”

“I can imagine.”

“So that’s why I’m a bit…weird. I just…I don’t know. Like I saw him and I missed him, you know?”

“And does he miss you?”

“He said he does.” You shrugged, “I mean, I told him about you, so it wasn’t like that.” You emphasized, “But yeah, I just wasn’t expecting that.” He mumbled.

“I’m sorry.” He said reaching his hand out for yours and you took it as you glanced down to watch your hands connect.

“It’s fine.”

“How long is he in town?”

“He leaves tomorrow morning. Asked me to dinner, that’s when I brought you up and said we had plans.” You smiled at him and he smirked.

“Oh wow…I mean, I would’ve understood if you ditched me for thee Harry Styles. But I appreciate you choosing to keep our plans.” He said with a slightly smug and victorious grin.

“Of course, babe.” You assured him with a smile.

But that didn’t mean that mentally you weren’t sitting across from Harry at the Roosevelt having an equally nice glass of wine and catching up over what the last couple years apart had been like for you.

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

Harry very seldom used social media, especially for celebrity gossip purposes, but he found himself hunched over the table in his bedroom eating dinner alone while typing up your name in the Instagram search bar and going to the tags. Much like his, your instagram was now for professional use, so he knew there wouldn’t be anything personal to find there so he didn’t bother with your profile, hashtags were where it was at. And as soon as the page loaded, an avalanche of images came up. He went to the first one and it was a fan video, secretly taken of course, of you over dinner with your boyfriend. Sebastian?

“You’re dating Sebastian? That Hozier rip off? Really?!” He muttered to himself bitterly.

He watched the clip replay a few times.You two were clearly talking about something a bit serious as you weren’t smiling at first. But then he reached for your hand and you took it and smiled. He selfishly hoped you were talking about him just then…

of course, he would hate it if someone took videos of him like that at a private dinner, but he now understood why people did it. It was better than just seeing it with your own two eyes. This was forever. He could sit there all night and watch as your lips slowly turned up towards the end and smiled at him. He could watch your hand reaching out to touch Sebastian’s. He could sit there and theorize about where this conversation was going…it could just be a serious topic of conversation, an amicable break up, some good news… Crumbs. That’s all these things were, just crumbs. He scrolled a bit and got to some other photos and videos of Sebastian at your shows, you at his shows, out and about…it was making his stomach twist up with jealousy and regret.

Harry didn’t find that he got jealous much anymore, he felt more secure in himself and in his relationships, he had matured, a lot of things went into that. But a part of his heart would always belong to you and seeing you sharing your affection with someone else, it made him sick to his stomach. He scrolled down further, hoping to see something about you two but there was only disappointment.

When you were together he was so fucking paranoid that the public would ruin what you had that there was no PDA, everything was so clandestine…you’d been papped alone a few times walking around together, at events, and a few other mundane situations but not like what you had with Sebastian over the last couple months. There were no pictures of you two holding hands, or smiling at each other the way you often did when you were alone or with trusted friends and family. There were no videos of you kissing in the corner of a dark party or side stage at a show…and whatever videos you had with each other…well, those had to go in case any of you ever got hacked or something. He did have a few pictures, but they were in his albums at home and probably scanned into a USB or something similar and it was just lying around collecting dust somewhere. He tried searching you two up and yeah, nothing. Just the couple things he knew of.

“Fucking ridiculous…” he mumbled with his mouth full as he went back to stalking you and Sebastian just a little bit longer. Sebastian had you all over his page; sure he was verified but he was still a smaller artist when compared to him or you, so he could afford to show a bit of his private life without people losing their heads over it.

Harry stopped when he started getting sad and also when a text from Tay came in responding to his news of his change of travel plans. Then he felt bad for lying, for staying longer than he needed to. But the sooner he went back home, the sooner he could forget all about you and what was and immerse himself in the world he lived in now. But then, the sooner he left the sooner he’d be without you close by. The sooner he’d be breathing someone else’s air…sure, there were millions of people in LA, but knowing that you were one of them did things to him.

…. A FEW DAYS LATER ….

If there was one thing you hated to do that Caitlyn loved to do, it was work out. You’d always been a bit lazy for it and did the bare minimum you could get away with. which was still excessive in your opinion, especially when you’d go with Caitlyn. One of her friends, Melissa, had invited the two of you to her friend’s new pilates studio and well, that was one of your hard limits. Barre and Pilates both were! Like what kind of sick fuck can bend that way? Is what you constantly thought to yourself as you’d literally have to have someone hold your body in certain positions to complete the routine.

Since Melissa knew Ilse, the owner of the studio, you were working out in a private studio, which you were eternally grateful for just to spare you from embarrassment at the very least. The last thing you wanted was to become an internet meme because you somehow got tangled up in a pilates machine.

“Alright, great form ladies and just hold a few more seconds…” Ilse hummed to you all. She was sweet to encourage you as if she weren’t currently holding you in position.

“What is going on out there? It’s getting loud.” Melissa pointed out, which made Ilse, turn as well.

“I’m going to go check it out.” She said releasing you from your position before rushing out of the smaller studio.

“Thank fuck.” You sighed as you just left your legs in the suspenders you’d been in for that position Ilse had you in.

“How you holding up?” Caitlyn asked with a grin.

“This is…terrible.” You confessed and you all laughed a bit. “Who wants to leave and feel like a wet noodle for three days after?” You whined.

“It feels great! I love the soreness.” Melissa said and you scoffed.

“You’re insane.” You said to Melissa.

“I am. Clinically.” She agreed and you laughed again at her joke. You was just laying there, legs still suspended in the air, at least this way you were getting good circulation. But mostly because you were afraid to move with how sore you already felt after just a half an hour of pilates. Then Ilse came back in capturing their attention.

“Harry Styles is here.” She said and this made Caitlyn turn to you quickly. You then attempted to sit up properly, “He’s gonna do his thing in here too so that no one bugs him.” she explained. You were still fighting to get up from your laying position with your legs suspended above you. Finally you got your foot out of the fucking loop and were trying to get the other one out before he came in, “Y/N, be careful.” Ilse warned as she started to make her way over to help. But she paused when the door opened behind her and in came Harry in a gray, long sleeve shirt and some tiny, navy blue shorts. You swallow thickly and pulled harder on the cable.

“Ilse, thank you so much for letting me join-” A small shriek interrupted Harry as he came into the private studio. They all saw you fall out of the machine and they hurried over and huddled above you. And there you were on the ground, one of your feet still stuck in the loop of the cable, leaving it extended high above the rest of your body. How humiliating… Your eyes met his and you saw as he rolled his lips together to prevent his laughter from spilling out. You’d always had an aversion to exercising as he recalled.

“Oh my god! Are you OK?!” Ilse asked you. And then you were bursting into laughter, causing Ilse’s shoulders to lose their tension.

When your eyes met his again as you laughed he sputtered on his own laughter before it just spilled out of him and then your friends laughed along at your mishap as well. Harry was quick to step up and help you get your foot free and then Ilse helped you up.

“Thank you.” You said to Ilse and Harry with a warm face and bashful smile.

“Of course. Do you need ice or something?” Ilse asked and you shook her head.

“I’m fine. I’ll just sit the rest out. Do some free weights.”

“Real convenient, missy.” Caitlyn mumbled and you grinned. Harry soon greeted Caitlyn and then properly greeted Melissa.

“So how do you guys know each other?” She asked the three of you.

“Just industry friends.” You said quickly with a decisive nod and Harry glanced at you. Your eyes averted to Cailtyn’s who just looked to Harry after a few seconds.

“Cool, well let’s keep going then.” Ilse suggested. Since you had decided to just do some free wights across the room Harry took your spot as Ilse guided them through the rest of the routine.

Harry was stealing glances. Not that you weren’t, but you were far more subtle about it. He couldn’t help it though. He knew her body just as well as he knew his own. And just watching you move was bringing back so many memories. He’s the one that discovered you had a birthmark right near the crook of your inner thigh. He’s the person who discovered that you had a group of freckles and beauty marks on your mid back that almost resembled the entire Orion constellation. He’s the person who knew that you hated that one of your boobs was “much smaller” than the other. He thought they were pretty symmetrical, but whatever. He knew every scar you had. He knew each tattoo, he’d been there for many of them. He knew that there was this one eyelash you had that always grew in a little crooked and he’d always help you pluck it out after you’d beg and beg because it ruined your mascara. He knew the shape you liked to pluck your eyebrows in. He knew the shape of your lips and the shade of your eyes. He knew everything there was to know about you.

So yeah, he was looking and remembering all the little things about you that made you the beautiful, smart, talented, and unique person that you were. He hadn’t allowed himself to love and obsess over anyone like that ever again, it took too much out of him. Just you.

“I thought you were supposed to leave a few days ago?” Caitlyn said. And well, if Caitlyn knew this, that meant you had talked about her to him.

“Something came up. Have another meeting on Thursday. S’for a film, the director isn’t back in town until then.” He elaborated.

“Ooh what film?”

“A possible Bowie biopic.” He said and she looked impressed.

“Nice. Are you interested in the project?” She asked just as you bent over to grab your water bottle and Harry got a little lost for a moment.

He barely heard a word Caitlyn had said, he just watched you shamelessly. God, he missed that perfect, little body of yours. Seeing as Caitlyn was facing the mirror while she talked to him, she could see your reflection and obviously, what Harry was staring at. She loved you and Harry together, but the logistics were kind of fucked and you were stretching yourselves so thin, it was unhealthy. You hadn’t ended things because you weren’t in love; in fact, you were so in love that you couldn’t do that to each other anymore. You had tried to wait it out, but it was exhausting you two to degrees that just was a bit irresponsible for some of the biggest stars on the planet, so you went your own ways.

“She’s happy, you know?” Caitlyn said quietly and Harry’s eyes flickered away from you to hers. He sighed and nodded.

“I know.” He said, “With Sebastian?”

“She told you it was him?” Caitlyn asked. Harry had always been a little wary around Sebastian because it was fairly obvious to him that he had a thing for you. He never tried anything and was always respectful, but just that jealousy he felt over you was palpable. And it would make Harry be on high alert when you guys was around him.

“No. I had to…fucking look it up.” He admitted with slight irritation. Caitlyn snorted quietly on a laugh causing him to shoot her a glare. “Shut up.” He mumbled with a bashful smile as he smacked her with his towel on the leg.

“Ew! Unsanitary!” She scoffed through her sniggers.

“Fuck you, I haven’t even used it yet.” He chuckled. When their little fit died down she got serious again.

“You seem happy too.”

“I…I am.” He nodded once, “But it’s her. She’s…” he trailed off as he glanced at you again, “She was it for me, you know?” He said with some sadness. “I don’t know…I just…wasn’t prepared to see her yet.”

“That’s what she said too. Maybe it’ll always be that way? Like you guys had something extraordinary. It was special, some real soul mate shit, you know? Of course it’s going to be hard to get over. I literally thought that was all BS until I saw how you guys were together.” She said and he smiled.

“Yeah.” He agreed.

“What do you want?”

“To just be around her.” He said and she hummed.

“Then be friends.” Caitlyn suggested and he immediately shook his head.

“I couldn’t…like I’m happy for her, but I don’t want to see it in my face. And I’m sure she feels the same about that. Seeing each other have everything we had and more? No way.”

“Then…I don’t know, Harry.”

“Can you just ask her i-if we could grab a coffee or talk or something?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because she’ll say no.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I do.” He said, “What if she thinks I’m just trying to…to make her doubt or something?”

“She knows you’d never hurt her and you know she’d never hurt you.”

“I know, but what if…”

“What if you guys do something stupid like cheat?” Caitlin asked bluntly and he nodded. “Well then that’s up to you guys.” she said simply, “I did tell her it was probably good that she couldn’t have dinner with you the other night…I could see something happen during a moment of weakness. All that attraction and love you guys still have for each other…I mean, I can’t see either of you walking away without someone getting hurt if you’re not overly cautious. Maybe it’s a temptation or maybe it’s what needs to happen to open that door again…I don’t know, H. But if you do want to see her again just be careful with your hearts and those of the others you’re involved with now.” She admonished and he nodded.

“You’re right.” He said and glanced down at his knees instead of at you. “I don’t want to fuck anything up for her.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m already fucked.” He chuckled breathily with sadness in his eyes.

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

When their session was over you all said their goodbyes. Harry headed back into the locker rooms to have a shower though, so he didn’t walk out with you three. You had gone to have some breakfast at Melissa’s house and were in the middle of eating when your phone pinged. When you picked it up from the table you saw “Harry” on the text notification and you locked it and set it down with a pounding heart. Caitlyn looked to you with a knowing glance and you sighed and went back to your food. Melissa was cool, she was an influencer who was dabbling in TV, which is how she met Caitlyn. But you weren’t really personal friends with her yet so you didn’t feel like bringing Harry up right now. You could talk to Caitlyn about it on your way home.

As soon as you were in the car you looked at his text and smiled at the screen. Harry was sweet, a bit of an over-thinker, but you loved that about him. He was thoughtful of how he wanted to be perceived and how he came across.

“Did he ask to see you?” Caitlyn asked and you nodded and locked your phone before taking off. You sat in silence for just a few minutes before Caitlyn turned to you. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” You confessed. “If I see him…alone…” you sighed, “s’just that after seeing him I realized I still feel too much for him.” You explained. “I don’t want to fuck things up with Seb or hurt him in any way. Like you know that I care about him. So much. But this is Harry, you know? Do you think Seb’ll understand if I want to meet up with Harry?” You asked and Caitlyn sighed.

“Girl, I don’t know…but after speaking a bit with Harry I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” She said and you frowned.

“What did he say?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“He’s just…hanging on by a thread I think.” She said and you frowned. “Like you’re both in relationships, good ones, that seem to make you guys happy. And I mean…you guys are each other’s weakness, you know? And I care about you both so much and I don’t want you to accidentally do something that you’ll regret and hate yourselves for. Like I get it, you miss each other, but would tempting fate fix things or make them worse?” She asked and you sighed.

“You’re right. You’re so right.” You agreed.

“He knows you’re with Sebastian.” Caitlyn said and you turned to her for a moment with confusion.

“How?”

“He was looking you up online or something is what he said.” Upon hearing that you giggled and Caitlyn started to chuckle as well. Before you knew it, you were both laughing hard at how crazy that was. Him scouring the internet to find information about you? “If Harry internet lurks you can too. You’re missing out…” Caitlyn said after your laughing spell had died down.

“Yeah, no thanks. I have some dignity.” You grinned and Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

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

Harry waited and waited. And waited well into the night for Y/N to respond to his text. He had no idea if you’d even read it. Maybe you had changed your number and he’d texted someone else by mistake. He was getting antsy, he was only in town for four more days. So he did a double text, just to verify that it was still your number and when no response came after another 10 minutes he just settled against his pillows and pulled out the book he had brought along with him. He wasn’t even hungry anymore after that disappointment.

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

Sebastian had come over to your house for dinner at the last minute and now you were just washing up your dishes from that when he came into the kitchen glowering at you.

“What the matter?” You asked with some concern and he brought your phone up to your face so that you could see what had him so upset. You pouted a bit when you read Harry’s second text, he was just asking if it was still your number. You felt bad for leaving him on read now.

“You saw him again today and he asked you out again?” Sebastian asked with irritation. He had every right to be irritated without context, but the explanation would easily appease his anger.

“I didn’t plan to see him. Me and the girls were at pilates and he showed up at that studio. I have no control over where he goes! What was I supposed to do? Leave?” You asked him and he sighed, “The trainer had him come work out in the studio with us because people were flocking him. But when he came over I even left to do strength training instead. Ask Caitlyn! I didn’t even talk to him!” You said quickly as he searched your eyes. The fear and panic in them made him doubt you. “He just wants to catch up.” You said as he set your phone down on the counter with a sigh.

“I want to believe you but-”

“Then believe me, Sebastian!” You said with exasperation as you shut the water off and took off the rubber gloves you were wearing. “The evidence is there on my phone. I haven’t even answered him!” You pointed out and he sighed.

“Why is he so determined of doing this? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend to hang out with?”

“It’s just…a lot seeing each other after so long. He probably just wants to reconnect and be friends? Maybe if I just talk to him-”

“I don’t want you talking to him, Y/N.” Sebastian said and you frowned. “I don’t trust him and I don’t like how pushy he’s being about this.”

“He’s not being pushy…” you sighed.

“He is! You left him on read and he doesn’t take the fucking hint.” Sebastian argued.

“Well maybe if I just respond and explain that you’re not comfortable with us meeting up alone then he’ll-”

“Oh, don’t put this on me.” Sebastian cut you off.

“Well you’re the one who’s upset over this, Seb. I honestly wasn’t even going to respond to him!”

“If you’re not going to respond just delete the message and block the number.” He insisted, handing your phone over. You frowned as you glanced down at it in your hands and then up at him.

“No, Seb. I’m not blocking him for no real reason!” You pushed back.

“Your boyfriend being upset over it is a real reason, Y/N. He wants you back! Why can’t you see that?” He groaned in frustration.

“No, he doesn’t. He just wants to talk and catch up!” You countered.

“Well I don’t care what he wants, Y/N. I don’t want you to see him. I forbid it!” He put his foot down and you scoffed.

“You forbid it? What the fuck? Who are you to tell me who I can and can’t see in my free time, Seb? I think I’ve respected you and our relationship by leaving it and not answering him. I even told you when I first saw him-”

“Only because I asked! And now again, you see him and don’t say anything about it until I see these texts!”

“One sided texts!” You added and he shook his head.

“I waited my turn and I chose to be with you, Y/N. And right now you need to choose me back.” He said and you sighed as you started growing anxious and frustrated.

“I’m with you, Seb! I already chose you! There’s nothing for me to choose right now! You’re the one putting Harry in the middle of us right now.” You argued.

“You’re honestly telling me that if he says he wants you back you wouldn’t hesitate to choose me over him? You’d just tell him to fuck off?” He asked and you frowned.

“That’s… that’s a silly thing to think. Why are you even arguing hypotheticals, Seb? This will get us nowhere-”

“Tell me, now. Who would you choose, Y/N?” He insisted more seriously and you shook your head.

“I’m not playing this stupid game with you, Seb.” You said as you crossed your arms. Holding your position.

“You refusing to make a choice over this speaks fucking volumes, Y/N.” He said with disappointment before he stormed out of the kitchen. You took a second to let your mind try and catch up with how all of this went south so quickly. Once you were up to speed you hurried over to the front door where he was sliding his feet into his shoes.

“Where are you going?” You asked him with welled up eyes and he refused to answer you. “Sebastian!” You raised your voice.

“I’m done.” He seethed, finally responding to you, “I’m done playing second fiddle to him, Y/N.” He said pointedly before leaving your place with a loud thud of the door slamming.

You groaned into your hands and your tears started rolling down your cheeks. You were so fucking angry at him and at Harry…it was making you boil over as you returnedd to the kitchen and grabbed your phone and called him. He didn’t pick up, you tried again after a few moments and it went straight to voicemail. You were so angry at him you almost threw your phone at the wall. But before you could, you decided to make another call, this one to Harry.

“Y/N?” He answered almost right away and before you could berate him for his texts you started to sniffle, “Hey? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He asked softly. His voice was drenched with concern.

“Seb saw your texts and I think he just broke up with me.” You whimpered as more tears started to fall. You started to sob a bit harder and just dropped yourself on the couch. Harry felt awful…he hadn’t meant to stir up trouble for you, he just missed you.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t think I said anything bad or suspicious.” He apologized.

“You didn’t. He just thinks you’re…trying to get me back. He asked me to block you and I said no because that’s stupid. We’re fucking grown ups, you know?”

“Yeah.” He hummed as he listened.

“And he…he asked me if you wanted to get back together with me, if I would I choose him over you.” You said and he bit his lip.

“What’d you say?”

“I didn’t say anything! I told him he was being ridiculous for bring up hypotheticals like that. Like what would we gain from that, you know? And he got more angry and said that not choosing was basically choosing…”

“I see how he came to that conclusion. I mean…it makes it seem like…he wouldn’t like the choice you’d make.” He explained.

“Well it’s not like that! I just…I don’t know, Harry.” You said before gasping for air as you started to cry harder. Harry wished he could be there to hold you and tell you everything would be fine. He’d just let you get it out for a little bit.

“I’m really sorry for stirring up trouble for you, love.” Harry apologized with full sincerity.

“It’s alright.” You whispered as your crying diminished.

“It’s not…I should’ve taken the fucking hint. I just miss you and want to spend time with you before I go. I was upset that you didn’t answer me after this morning. I should’ve just left it alone and-”

“I miss you too, H.” You cut him off. You sniffled as you just stared up at the ceiling. “Fucking ridiculous amounts.” You added and he smiled.

“Me too.” He agreed.

“I’m sorry for not responding to you. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. S’just that after talking to Caitlyn about it I just got a little…scared I guess. Like…what if we like have a moment of weakness and do something fucked up and-”

“Love, no.” he responded even if he had the same fear as her.

“Is is that crazy to think about? We obviously still share a lot of feelings for each other and I would hate to…to mess anything up for you if I…if I’m not strong enough.” You explained.

“If anyone’s not strong enough here it’s me.” He said and you smiled, “God…like…I don’t know if wanting to see you is wrong or not and I don’t care. All I know is that you mean a lot to me and I’ve missed you.”

“Enough to lurk me on the internet?” You asked with a smile and he sighed.

“Fucking Caitlyn…” he chuckled and you laughed. “So pathetic.” Muttered lowly.

“S’not…” you appeased him.

“So you’ve done it too?” He asked hopefully.

“No way.” You said quickly and he chuckled, “It’s not because I’m not curious I just…I don’t want t-to see you with her.” You admitted and a silence came over you two for several moments as the information settled. “And well, it’s not even about her really, it’s just…you I guess.” You confessed, “It’s such an ugly feeling.” You explained with a frown, “It makes my stomach hurt and it makes me annoyed and my chest feels heavy and like-”

“You get jealous.” He said and you sighed. You’d never been of the jealous kind. Specially not with Harry, you knew that even God would have to kill one of you to keep you apart. There was no chance of straying from each other. So this feeling festering inside of you was absolutely foreign to you and you never wanted it again. You’d seen a photo of them briefly on some gossip website when a friend had sent a link about some crazy rumor they’d written about you. It was a suggestion for another article read at the bottom of the article about you. The photo above the title was of them two, you only saw it quickly before you closed out of the tab, never wanting to see it again. But god, it was truly such an ugly feeling. You literally felt it growing out of your heart and infecting your…you’d been moody the rest of that day; it was awful.

“Yeah, I guess I do…feel jealous.” You admitted and he bit his lip for a second.

“While I was lurking instagram the other day? I saw a video of you and Sebastian kissing at some concert of his. At the side of the stage?” He said.

“Yeah?” You asked and he sighed.

“Yep. I-it made me so…mad. Like a helpless kind of mad. And then sad.” He said and you frowned, “It made me sad because we didn’t have that. I hate that I kept you so hidden…I should’ve been less afraid of the public, of the fans, of all the external bullshit that fucks with my head. I wish people could’ve see how happy we were. Wish they could’ve see how much we love each other.” He said and you felt your stomach flip when he said that. He didn’t say “how much we loved each other”, he said “love”, present tense, as in right now. It felt good to hear but it also scared you because you realized that you too were hanging on by a thread.

“You know, I kinda love that it’s just between us. Like back then it was tough to hide like that, but now I appreciate it more. I felt…safe and protected and normal when we were together, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He hummed. “Do you ever think about us?” He asked meekly.

“Of course I do. A lot of the time…” you said with a smile. “Like early last year, Seb opened for someone at the Forum and he like…fell in love with it.”

“Rightfully so, s’the perfect venue.” He said and you hummed.

“Literally. So he bought us club passes and we went to see John Mayer like a few months later and we had the same exact seats that we had for Elton John. Remember?”

“Oh, god…do I…” he laughed and you started to laugh as well. “And Jeffrey had to get them to delete the video of us sneaking into the family bathroom, remember?” He started chuckling.

“Oh, I remember.” You giggled.

“At least we was fast…”

“We weren’t. We were in there for almost half an hour.” You pointed out.

“Were we?” He asked in shock and you laughed.

“Yeah! You said you wanted to to enjoy it or something like that. And when I said we should go home then you said-”

“And miss Elton John?” He cut her off and you laughed as you nodded.

“Literally, you paused, mid-fuck. Like mid thrust, Harry.” You cackled as he laughed loudly over the line, “As if we weren’t already missing the best bits anyway…” you said and he smiled as the laughter died down. “I’d never done anything in public like that before.” You said, “You tainted me.” You joked.

“Yeah, you tell yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night, love.” He chuckled and bit his lip as he recalled how you were biting down on his shirt to contain your sounds. He had no idea what had gotten into him that night, all he recalls is the you were wearing this perfume that was so intoxicating, he just wanted to be buried against your neck. Kissing you, inhaling that sweet and warm scent that made his head spin. He was touching you in some way the whole fucking time until he sneakily brought his fingers up your skirt and touched you over her underwear slowly until you were drenched for him. He shifted a bit when he felt his cock hardening up in his sweats at the memory of what happened afterwards in that bathroom.

“OK, thanks…just a funny little story to lighten up the mood.” You said and he hummed.

“I want to see you.” He said decidedly and you bit your lip.

“I don’t know if we should, H.”

“Right now. Just FaceTime.” He said and you shot up.

“Harry, no…I’m all snotty and shit-”

“Well if we’re not going to see each other in person before I go at least like this. Please, love.” He said and you sighed as you wiped your eyes a bit before the request to FaceTime came in and you accepted and seconds later there you were. Face to face. You stayed quiet for a few moments, just looking at each other, the air was tense with all of the thoughts and feeling being left unsaid.

“I do want to see you.” You said, finally breaking the silence and he hummed. He was in bed, his free arm was pulled back, supporting his head and he was clearly topless from what you could see.

“Yeah?” He smiled.

“Of course. I just…feel like it’s asking for trouble.”

“Why?” He chuckled.

“Because! I mean, look at you just now.” You said with a giggle and he glanced down a bit and smirked.

“How do you think I felt today at the gym?”

“I was working out!”

“And I’m just laying in bed.” He responded simply.

“This is bad, H.”

“What is?” He chuckled.

“The way I’m…looking at you and thinking about you.” You said softly.

“And what way is that?” He asked and you shook her head bashfully as he smiled a bit, “It’s not like I’m not thinking the same things about you…” He responded and you bit your lip nervously. “Earlier today I was remembering how I found your birthmark.” He said with a placid smile.

“Didn’t even know it was there…”

“You’re welcome by the way.” He hummed and you rolled her eyes at him playfully. “When did you move out of your flat?” He asked changing the subject. He just assumed as he didn’t recognize your surroundings.

“Last year. Finally could afford a house. S’small for the area, three bedrooms. Very English cottage/craftsman style, original architecture. Obviously, the inside is renovated, but the external structure is in great shape.” You described and he smiled. “It reminded me of the houses in the country we saw when we visited your family together up north? The ones with the brick exteriors.” You said and he nodded and smiled, “It has a lovely front garden…there are tons of windows so the sun shines in nearly all afternoon. And the garage was turned into like a studio apartment and I’m planning to renovate it into a little music studio once I save up enough.”

“That sounds really nice. So where are you at now?” He asked.

“West Hollywood west.” You said and his eyes widened.

“No way. Dude, I am like down the street from you right now.” He chuckled and you smiled.

“Oh! Really?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t extend my stay at the Roosevelt so Jeffrey moved me to the SLS on La Cienega.” He explained, “I could literally jog to you if I wanted.” He chuckled and you smiled and bit your lip for a moment. It was already dark out…so no one would see him…

“Would you really?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah, of course! Had to skip my cool down cardio today because there were too many people at the gym.” He said and you thought about it for a moment.

Harry was ready to jump out of bed and throw some clothes on and run out if you said he could. He just wanted to be around you again. Even talking like this was nice, just getting to see your expressions and watch you form your thoughts and listen to him.

“Maybe you running over here is not a great idea…” you said when you heard a police siren down the street. He tried to mask his disappointment at this but nodded, “I could pick you up?” You suggested instead.

“Uh yeah, that’s cool too.”

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“No, just work out and hanging out in the area.”

“OK, so no strict curfew.” You smiled and he shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Ok. Ummm, I’m gonna try to call Seb again and let him know.”

“Does he stay with you?” Harry asked.

“No, he actually lives in Pasadena.”

“Ooh…” Harry exclaimed with a scrunch in his face, “That’s a commute just because of the traffic.”

“I know. It’s not really that far, but man he has to take all the shitty freeways.” You said, “I think he probably went home after we argued. But I just want to let him know that I’m having you over just to avoid any issues.” You explained and he nodded. He loved that about you, you’d always been really considerate like that and it made him smile that you were still that way.

“Oh yeah, of course. I should probably do the same.” He said and you smiled.

“OK. I’ll text you my ETA when I’m heading out.”

“Sounds good.” He nodded and then you hung up.

You tried calling Sebastian a couple times before giving up and going to finish the dishes you had started on, maybe he’d call back. You finished up and still no response from Seb. Then you packed up the leftovers and still he had not called you back. You sighed and just called again, killing a bit of time by going around the house, lighting some of the candles you had out. But as it rang out to his voicemail once again you decided to just leave a message.

“Hey babe.” You started out, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier. It’s just that…Harry is really important to me and I miss him, OK? I miss getting to be his friend and he just wants to reconnect a bit, OK? His hotel is like 2 miles away from the house and he’s going to come here for a bit. I’m not sure if you’re on the road home or just went out somewhere nearby, so I’m just letting you know in case you want to come by whenever. I love you, Seb. Bye.” You finished and then hung up. You then texted Caitlyn just to let her know what happened and assured her you’d call the following day to catch her up on everything. By that time it had been about 20 minutes and you texted Harry to let him know you were on your way.

Harry was relieved to hear back from you with your ETA. After it took more than five minutes for you to get back to him he decided to have a quick shower so that he wouldn’t have to do it if he got back too late. He was so nervous, he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest at getting to be with you again. And when it got to two minutes of you arriving he made his way down to the lobby. He was quick as he scurried out and just as he was walking past the valet you pulled up to the curb.

“Uber for Garry?” You called out the passenger window with a playful grin and he laughed as he opened up the door and settled in.

“Hi.” He greeted you, his smile wide.

“Hi.” You responded and then you bit your lip to avoid smiling like Demi Lovato in Camp Rock. You were far too happy, you just needed a second to gather yourself. You were just taking each other in for a moment before someone honked at you and you jumped as the harsh sound startled you both. “Jesus…Sorry.” You mumbled before you started peeling away from the pick up area. Harry was chuckling beside you and you just rolled your eyes at him as he poked a bit of fun.

“How’d it go with Seb.” He asked, changing the subject.

“It didn’t…that’s why I took so long. Tried him a bunch of times while I finished cleaning up after dinner. Gave him a bit to call back and he didn’t so I left him a message. I did tell him that he could drop by whenever just to…see for himself that it’s fine.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Yeah…I just don’t get where all this suddenly came from. Like, I’ve been straight up about everything since I saw you last week and he was fine about it.”

“Maybe he’s just jealous.”

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean he has to distrust me.” You said and he nodded.

“That’s true. Well look, let’s not worry about it now. We can have a nice time and catch up…” He smiled and you nodded.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

“Nope.”

“Should I stop somewhere? Or there’s food at the house if you want that.” You said and he nodded.

“Yeah, that’s alright.” He smiled and you nodded. “Do you still cook a lot?” He asked and you smiled and nodded.

“Oh yeah, avidly. The kitchen continues to be my happy place.” You confirmed. “Caitlyn is on this vegan kick until next Thanksgiving, so I’ve been trying out a bunch of new stuff that she’s recommended I learn to cook for her.” you explained with a smile, “Seb is losing his mind about it though, all he eats is brown rice, chicken, and fish.” You explained, “Tonight I made like a veggie stir fry type of thing? With zucchinis and other types of squash, carrots, mushrooms, bell peppers, and some beyond ground beef.…”

“That sounds excellent.” he said and you smiled.

“I thought so too! Never thought I’d have to persuade a grown man into eating that many vegetables.” You said of Seb and Harry chuckled.

“I don’t even want to know what that means…” he mumbled jokingly as he glanced out the window and you laughed.

“Not like that…” you giggled.

“Sure…sure.” Harry hummed as he side eyed you, who just shook you head in response. “Well you don’t have to persuade me. Though I’m not sure if I should just have you persuade me depending on what you’re persuading people with.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“I promised to make his favorite meal next time. That was the persuasion.” You clarified and he chuckled.

“I mean, I’ll still take that…do you even remember-”

“Of course! Branzino al Limone. How could I forget?” You asked with a smile as you glanced to him briefly, and he grinned in satisfaction. “Perfected the recipe last time I went to Italy actually.”

“Why? For me?” He asked smugly.

“Ummm, because it’s good?! Also it was one of the dishes in the cooking course I completed there.” You said and he chuckled.

“Well that’s good.”

“Yeah.” You smiled.

You and Harry bonded a lot over food, it was basically one of your biggest love languages in your relationship. You loved learning together and you taught him a lot of the things he now knew. You wanted to ask if he cooked for his girlfriend…he probably did, it was part of his charm, part of the wooing process. He invited his love interest over to his and made you his perfected risotto al pomodoro and then had the other person involved in helping with dessert and while that went in the oven you’d kill some time by…well, you reckoned anyone would know what you filled that time with. It was basically straight out of a romcom. He even did it for you when you started dating. But you were much younger then so it was all the more impressive that a man pulled out all the stops like that.

You then wondered if she cooked for him as well. Did she do things better than you or was he left wanting just a bit more, forced to remember you every time she took a stab at his favorites? Or did they even do that for each other in this relationship? You wanted to know about it, but at the same time you knew that any knowledge of how his relationship worked with someone else wouldn’t really benefit you in any way. As long as he was happy, that was all you needed to know.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” He suddenly asked when you grew quiet.

“Nothing, just ummm, just thinking.” You said as you glanced at him quickly, “We’re nearly there.” You said and he nodded as you turned down to a residential street. The houses there looked to be of an older build, but they were still very beautiful. There was the odd bright white millennial cement block people were obsessed with currently, but other than that, the neighborhood you were in seemed to embrace the older LA architecture for the most part. “S’that one there in the corner.” You pointed to your right and he smiled as he saw your little corner house.

“God it even looks like England…so much green!” He chuckled happily as he glanced at you briefly before looking back as you got closer.

Yeah, whoever lived there before her absolutely covered the property in plants. The entire front of the property was lined with a hedge that he assumed was his shoulder height or so. And then running diagonally through the front lawn was a little path of steps to get up to the front door, it was lined at each side by some of those little stake lights and blocked off by a little iron gate. You had some free driveway for guests and then another gate to close off the access to the backyard.

“Let me open up the gate,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt, “My control is out of batteries and then I bought the wrong-”

“I got it. I want to snoop your lawn.” He said as he unfastened his own seatbelt and you smiled.

“Yeah sure. The gate code’s-”

“Your birthday?” He asked with a knowing smile and you chuckled, “Still your birthday?!” He asked teasingly and you shrugged. “Oh, I’ve missed you…” he hummed quietly, smiling to himself now as he hopped out of the car and walked over to the little keypad at the far end of the gate. “Six digit and pound I assume?” He called out in question.

“Yes!” You shouted and he gave you a thumbs up before entering the numbers. Just a second later the wooden gate started to open inward, allowing you to drive in and he allowed himself to then wander down to the sidewalk where he unlatched the gate to get up to the front door.

It was so pretty out there. There was a a flower garden against the gate on the right side and thanks to the LA weather they were still in bloom. He could even smell some of the lavender planted there. He followed the path up to the well lit front door and smiled as he saw the beautiful deep teal colored door. There was a big window to some room in the home, possibly the living room, though he couldn’t really make out what it was to because of the thin curtain over it so he just focused back on the door. He just couldn’t get over the color. Then at the foot of the door he spotted a welcome mat reading “Sup. I’m mat.” And Harry immediately burst into laughter and glanced around again to see some wind chimes dangling off of the corner of the drop off of the roof. The grass was well kept and there seemed to be plenty of space to sit out here if you wanted to in the evenings when it cooled down…

“What’s so funny?” You suddenly asked and he turned around to see you coming up the steps.

“Mat.” He said pointing to the welcome mat and you giggled.

“Oh right…$10 if you guess who got me that as a housewarming gift…” you said and he chuckled.

“Oh Caitlyn…I’ve missed her too.” He said and you sniggered. “I really like the color of your door.” He complimented.

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“And the yard is so nice and lush. Love the hedges.”

“Yeah? I’m thinking of getting rid of the hedges.” You shared.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Like I like them for privacy but it just seems so closed off to me.”

“I can see that…What does Sebastian think?”

“Who cares? He doesn’t live here.” You sniggered and he chuckled and nodded.

“Well personally, I’d keep ‘em. You’re so close to Sunset that when people find out this is your home there are bound to be TMZ tour busses rolling to a stop every hour and a half.” He said and you sighed as you realized her was right, “Besides, it just kinda feels like your own little world with them, you know? Almost like secret garden type vibes.” He said as he looked around the area again and you smiled.

“Well thank you for your input, I will consider it.” You assured and he smiled, “Alright, lets get inside.” You said and keyed your way in. You had one of those keypad doors as well because losing keys was your hidden talent.

“Oh wow, this is so nice!” Harry complimented as he looked around inside.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you slipped out of her shoes and he did the same. “Want a tour?”

“Yeah!” He agreed eagerly.

With that confirmation you first guided him down the hallway towards the master bedroom and let him wander around in there for a bit. It had a door to the backyard as well so he looked out there and let her talk about her plans for her little studio before you wandered into the bathroom and closet. He was obsessed with her shower and even snapped some pictures to see if he could do something like that at his place. Then you went to the guest bedrooms to look around in there, and then you stopped in the living room on their way to the kitchen.

“Hey! That’s mine! I think…” He smiled brightly and pointed at a painting of an array of colorful, small and silly, misshapen faces. He walked up to the wall in the living room with tons of art hung on it and studied that one.

“Oh yeah, it is one of yours.” You smiled, “I found it when I was cleaning out my storage unit!”

“God, I was so fucking high when I painted that…” he recalled and chuckled as he shook his head.

“Were you?” You chuckled and he nodded, glancing back at you for a moment before he looked back to the painting.

“Can’t believe I even gave it to you. It was a secret Santa gift, wasn’t it?” He asked as he turned back towards you, fully this time and you nodded with a smile in response to his question. “It’s pretty cool. M’glad you kept it.” He said more softly.

“Of course I did. I love it. It really catches the eye. S’the one people ask about the most actually. Especially when they see the signature.” You said and he chuckled.

“You’ve got a lot of cool pieces.” He added.

“Thank you.”

“Can’t believe we never even went to a museum together.” he said as he turned back to the wall. “Such a shame…”

“Hey, maybe one day.” You said and he smiled as he turned back to you, “Alright, lets get you fed.” You said.

“Yes, please!” He concurred and followed you through to the kitchen.

You fixed him a plate and told him to feel free to keep looking around the house while it warmed up. You checked your phone again and Seb had not even sent a text in response yet. You were getting worried now, maybe he was serious when he said he was done. You still didn’t think you’d done anything horribly wrong, he had been quite demanding and unreasonable in your opinion.

When Harry came back into the kitchen to find you staring at your phone he frowned.

“Hey, everything alright?” His presence startled you a bit, but you nodded quickly.

“Yeah.” You assured and he looked at you skeptically, “I swear. I was just checking to see if Seb got back to me yet.”

“He hasn’t?” He asked and you shook your head as you set your phone down and turned to the microwave to grab his plate. When you turned back he sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Har.”

“But it is…if I hadn’t insisted t-to have some time with you then maybe-”

“I wanted to have time with you too.” You reminded and slid the plate over to him across the counter and he settled into one of the stools along the island. You then turned around to grab him a fork. Once he had it in his hand he quickly started eating.

“This is delicious.” He moaned with a partially full mouth, “Missed how you cook.” He tagged on happily and you smiled.

“Glad you like it.” You hummed and then started to pack the leftovers back up again. “Do you want some wine or water? I also have Cutwaters, which are quite traumatizing but-”

“Are you gonna have that?” He asked.

“I will if you will.” You said and he chuckled.

“Yeah, alright. What flavor?”

“S’the Long Island ones.” You said with a slight grimace and he mirrored your expression.

“Do you have a death wish?” He asked and you sniggered.

“There were gifted to me with a PR package, OK? Didn’t just want to throw ‘em out.”

“God…just one though, those are alarmingly strong.” He reminded.

“Oh, I know…I hardly even drink anymore apart from the occasional glass of wine. I might only have a cocktail, two max, at events but it’s pretty rare now. So one will definitely do it for me.” You chuckled and he did as well as you turned back to the fridge to open up the box. You came around to the stools and set the cans down and then sat in the spot beside him. “So what did you girlfriend say?” You asked against your better judgment but you had to know.

“About?” He asked, glancing to you before taking another bite of food.

“Us. Hanging out tonight.” You clarified and he hummed.

“Oh! I ummm, I just decided not to mention it to her.” He confessed a bit shamefully, “I was going to but I’m not sure of what her reaction would be and that scared me a bit. And either way, I would’ve come seen you regardless of her opinion about it, so if she’d gotten angry well, I didn’t want to lie and pretend I wasn’t gonna see you on top of making her angry…” he rationalized his decision and then went back for another bite of food.

“A lie of omission is still a lie…” you hummed and he shrugged.

“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.” He mumbled and you sighed and nodded. “I-is that bad?” He asked.

“What?” You asked.

“That I don’t care what she’d think of us reconnecting.” He said and you sighed.

“I think, in a black and white world the answer is yes, but it’s not. And more than that, I mean, it’s us. It feels wrong to be strangers.” You said and he nodded. “But I mean, in a way it’s good that she’s new in your life because she doesn’t really know how we were together, you know? So she has nothing to worry about. Not that there is anything to worry about at the moment, but if she’s on the insecure side then it could cause her some concern.”

“Like Seb.” He said. Not meaning to, but instinctually having to point it out.

“Yeah, I guess so…” you sighed.

“Maybe he does have something to worry about?” Harry said and you turned to him with a furrow in your brows and then his arched up, “Not with me! Sorry that came out wrong, forget I said anything. Sorry.” He rushed out and took another bite of food.

“If not about you then what?” You asked him as he chewed and he shook his head.

“Just forget it. I misspoke.” He mumbled after swallowing it down.

“H, don’t- don’t do that to me.” You said lowly as you looked into his eyes and he sighed.

“I just…just don’t take what I say to heart, OK? I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.” He prefaced and you nodded, “S’just something a friend told me about their overly jealous and insecure partner that came to mind. She said that often times those people are so worried about what their partners are doing as a form of…projection.” He said and your eyes softened and you looked down at the counter as the implication of what he was saying weighed on you. “Those kinds of people are often paranoid about their own hidden secrets or agendas being uncovered that they try and-” he stopped when he saw you pick up your can and chug it down for a few seconds before setting it down.

Your chest was rising and falling hard as you caught your breath. You weren’t sure if your throat was stinging from the overload of carbonation you’d just gulped down or from fighting off the knot seeking to lodge itself in it. You hadn’t considered that before. Maybe you were naive, but you always trusted that your partners had your best interest at heart. Though you had been cheated on twice by the same person in the past, this was right before you met Harry. And well, things with Harry had been so great that you were largely able to overcome your trust issues over the course of your relationship with him. You healed from it, but now it seemed like it was maybe a thing again.

“Hey,” Harry spoke softly and grabbed your hand and you turned to him, “I know Seb, he wouldn’t do that to you.” He said with certainty, “He was in love with you for five years, maybe more, and never did a thing about it but wait his turn.” He said and you blinked a few times and nodded, “I’m telling you, it just came to mind but I shouldn’t have said anything. It doesn’t- it’s not the same situation.” He emphasized.

“Maybe we’re wrong for this. Maybe we just need t-to let it go. The past is the past, there’s no need to stir up trouble in our present lives over something that clearly wasn’t…wasn’t meant to be.” You said quietly instead and he frowned.

“You can’t believe we weren’t meant to be, Y/N. Of course we were.” He insisted with conviction.

“Then why did we give up?”

“Bad timing.” He said simply.

“Well aren’t you happy right now? As things are.”

“Sure.” He said, “A-are you?”

“I am…I mean, I know I could be happier, but I’m getting there. And it’s not because of you or anything like that, it’s just that Seb and I are still a bit new. And we have a lot more work to do on how our relationship works, clearly.” You said with a smile and he smiled as well and reached for his own drink.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and you nodded.

“Desperately.” You said and he smiled.

“Yeah, we can talk about it then.” He assured.

“OK, you finish up here. I’m going to get my makeup off and out of these clothes.”

“Yeah love, take your time.” He assured and you smiled and hurried off.

Harry finished eating in silence, debating on whether he should tell Tay about coming over to your place or not. Maybe you had a point, she wouldn’t freak out about it like Seb did because she hadn’t seen you guys at your peak. She didn’t know how it had been between you two to be worried about anything happening. And as that thought crossed his mind it then dawned on him that maybe he was also right, about the projecting thing. Maybe he was projecting this feeling of disapproval and rejection from her because he knew he was in the wrong for this. He knew that being here with the person he wholeheartedly believed was his soulmate was such a test…

His own lyrics then came to mind, “my hand’s at risk, I fold”. He’d written that about you all those years ago. He felt then that you’d both put so much into your love, you’d both bet on it with everything you had only for you guys to realize that it wasn’t panning out how you hoped. So you both just pulled out of it before you could get anymore hurt or suffer any more losses. Had folding been a mistake? That was a question that was constantly orbiting in his mind. Had you guys held on a bit longer, would things have suddenly turned around like you’d been betting they would the whole time? Had you guys been too hasty with giving up? That’s what it felt like to him, giving up. He hated giving up. He had felt defeated for so long

and maybe he was here because he was supposed to be. Running into you like he did, talk about the luck of the draw…what were the odds? He dwelled on that thought as he washed his dishes and dried them up. And then he picked up your can of Cutwater to weigh out how much catching up he needed to do and then did just that. He groaned in disgust at the sweet and bitter after taste and then grabbed your can again and made his way to your living room. He set them down on coasters you had at your coffee table and then went to the window to pull the thicker curtains over your window.

“Hey, can I use the fireplace?” He shouted out and after a few seconds he heard you shout back a yes. So he quickly got a fire going, it was just a comfort thing he supposed. He loved the sound of the crackling firewood and the smell of it burning slowly over the open flame. He got it going and then moments later you came in, your feet in your slippers and your body warmed up in some yoga pants and a crewneck.

“Sorry I took so long.” You apologized.

“S’alright, took the time to clean up after myself and catch up with you.” He said glancing towards your drinks and you smiled and reached for yours, so he grabbed his as well. You tucked one of your legs under you as the other dangled off of the couch. Harry just waited for you to start.

“That’s one of the things I’m struggling with, about Seb.” You started.

“What?” He asked.

“He’s just…a little…helpless. Or lazy, I don’t know which one.”

“Hmmm…”

“Yeah, he didn’t grow up like we did. With everyone pulling their weight, everyone thinking of how what one person does can affect the other. How, you can’t always have it your way, you know?” You explained and Harry nodded. “He’s the youngest of three, has two older sisters, so he never had to lift a finger growing up. His dad’s a pilot and his mom just stayed at home and looked after them. They supported his dreams of being a singer from the get go, like our parents but, they paid for him to come to LA and live here. They had the means so he didn’t struggle at all, his only challenge was just to get a scout’s attention. So fundamentally, we have very different values I think. Especially of what it means to work hard at something. So right now that he’s upset at me, it’s not so much to do with you as it has to do with the fact that he’s not…getting his way.” You explained.

“So he’s a brat?” Harry said with an amused smile.

“Basically…a bit.” You said with a small smile, “And I do love him, but I don’t think it’s…enough to…to make me truly move on like you have.” You explained. He reached for your hand and you squeezed it for a second before letting go.

“Don’t think I’ll ever truly move on from you…” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about when we ended things. Like what if we had waited just a little bit more and things had worked out?”

“Would you have…wanted that?”

“Of course.” He said with certainty. “Yeah, I’m happy now, but I’ll always wonder if it’s just another path back to you…I don’t know if that’s…romantic or just plain obsessive.” He chuckled a bit and you smiled.

“Maybe a little bit of both.” You said and he smiled, “I’ve been thinking about how fucking insane it is that we ran into each other at Westlake.” You said and he gasped.

“Me too! Been thinking that since we saw each other.”

“I never go to Westlake if I can help it…like ever. So the odds of me even being there are…astronomical.” You said.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah! Honestly, I’ve delayed recording by a day or two if it’s the only one with open slots.” You giggled with a shake of you head. Maybe it was crazy of you, but you felt like the place was cursed.

“That drastic!? Why?” He asked, his face scrunched up in a confused smile and your smile faded slowly.

“Ummm…that’s where I was, when you…called.” You said and his eyes softened.

“Oh.” Is all he could say.

“Yep, suite 2.” You said with a small, sad smile, “I feel like the place is cursed.” You told him what you’d always thought.

“And isn’t two the number you dislike the most out of all the even numbers?” He asked and you chuckled.

“Yeah, actually!” You confirmed.

“Don’t you think it’s too big of a coincidence that our paths crossed for the first time in years in the same place we ended our relationship?” He asked.

“Of course, I do.” You sighed and shook your head.

“Do you think it’s…a sign?” He asked and your gaze softened as you looked away.

“D-don’t do that, H.” You said with a frown and he scooted closer.

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly and you glanced up at him, he was just inches from your face. “It’s been you the whole time, you have to know that.” He said softly.

“I feel the same but…but we can’t…” your voice cracked as your eyes welled up.

“Why not?” He asked you, grabbing your face now, “Why can’t we just be together how we’re supposed to?”

“Because at some point we weren’t supposed to. We can’t hurt the people in our lives like that. They don’t deserve that.” You sniffled and he swallowed thickly.

“You’re right. You’re so right.” He sighed. A moment of weakness for him…what was he thinking.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Harry.” You said and he nodded.

“I know…I just…I can’t believe I said that…so ridiculous.” He sighed, feeling so ashamed for even suggesting it and now you reached for him.

“It’s not, Harry. It’s not like I wasn’t thinking it too.” You said and he squeezed your hand a bit tighter.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. How could I not…” you said and he bit his lip.

“Look, maybe not now but what about a few years from now?” He said and your mouth dropped open a bit.

“What?”

“A few years from now, if we find ourselves alone again we try again.” He said and your lips turned up.

“That’s…that’s wild…”

“This whole thing has been wild! I mean, all of this was just a twist of fate. I can’t let this go to waste without trying. You’re my soul mate, I just know it.” He said and you exhaled shakily, “Tempt fate with me, love. Just one more time.” He appealed and you chuckled.

“OK.” You agreed.

“Yeah?” He asked happily, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

“Yeah.” You whispered.

Neither of you were really thinking too much about it when his hand came up to your jaw and tilted it upwards and your lips met quickly. When you both realized that you’d kissed you pulled away immediately. Your eyes met as a deafening silence came over the both of you. He hadn’t let you go yet and his eyes drifted down to your lips again, how he had missed the taste of them. The feeling of them against his own. He leaned back in and when your hand hooked around his neck he just smooshed his lips against yours with urgency.

You both sighed in relief at the feeling of kissing like this again. You felt like a wildfire right now, fierce and untamable. When his hands landed on your hips and pulled, you quickly got the hint and climbed into his lap. His strong arms hugged around your waist, making you feel safe and cared for in his arms, like old times. You smiled in satisfaction before his tongue licked at your bottom lip and you opened up easily for him. And when you felt your tongues meeting you moaned and slid your hands up to grab his hair to pull at it like you always would. But you were instead met with the smooth and lightly ticklish surface of his buzzcut and you started to giggle.

“Forgot about that.” You grinned, before pecking his lips lightly and he laughed with you. You pulled back just a bit, your noses skimming as your gazes met. You kissed him quickly again and pulled back before he could deepen the kiss again, leaving him wanting.

“Baby…” he whined lowly. Leaning in and you turned your head a bit, his kiss landing at the corner of your mouth.

“We should stop before we do something worse.” you whispered and he sighed but nodded.

“You’re right. Sorry.” He whispered and you just smiled and hugged him and he hugged you back. It was just a few moments into your embrace when you guys heard a car lock beeping from outside.

“That’s Seb’s car.” You said, immediately recognizing the sound.

“Shit.” Harry whispered as he let you go and you clambered off of his lap quickly and assumed your previous seat. “Sorry for that. I promise I held off as long as I could.” He apologized and you shook your head.

“It’s alright, I wanted to. Was thinking about it the whole time as well so…” You reassured him as your eyes met and he just smiled at you. Seconds later the lock on the front door chimed, indicating it had been unlocked and then Sebastian appeared, standing at the entrance of the living room to see you and Harry sitting on the couch, a comfortable distance between the two of you.

“Hey.” He greeted you both.

“Hey.”, “Hi, Seb.” You and Harry greeted him.

“Sorry for just leaving like that. I wanted to call you back after hearing your message, but I wanted t’cool off a bit. Went to the bar and I didn’t realize I dropped my phone there. Luckily, someone found it and turned it in. Then I went to Jake’s to track it since he lives close to it and when I went back to get it the screen was all wrecked.” He said holding it up.

“Oh shit! M’sorry.”, “That sucks, mate.” You and Harry said and he chuckled.

“Just bad luck I guess.” He sighed, “So ummm, you guys just catching up?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, Harry’s telling me about performing at Slane Castle.” You said and he nodded.

“Do you mind if I join you guys?” He asked.

“Not at all, mate.” Harry smiled.

“Cool. I’ll get a drink too then.” Seb said with a small smile and you nodded as he headed off to the kitchen.

“Thanks for putting me on the spot.” Harry whispered with a disbelieving grin and you giggled.

“As fate would have it, you had an iconic tour this year, so you can tell the stories…” you smiled.

> Next Part >

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