#((when he was in his makeup; but she actually went right up to him and asked if they could ride to set together!))

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Flashbacks

synopsis: you recall the gradual shift in your relationship with fred when prompted by questions at a panel promoting the movie.

wc: 13k+ (...)

warnings: rpf! reader is specified to be inexperienced! major plot point actually!

a/n: loads of backstory! and banter! and pedro and paul! and kissing!

i hope the format is as intuitive as i think it is, but just in case it isn't, italics means the start of a flashback and bold is the return to present day. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

<<previous part

The energy in the green room was calm, easy. You sat perched on the arm of the couch next to Fred, laughing as Pedro recounted a story from a previous panel he’d spoken at. Fred’s forearm draped over your thigh, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your knee, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

The casual physical affection felt normal now, expected even. No one batted an eye. Not Pedro, not Paul, not anyone in the room.

Ever since filming began, your relationship with Fred had only grown in comfort and familiarity. The closeness of your characters on screen slowly but surely translated to your friendship in real life. And then something more…

Late nights of practicing scenes together turned into deep talks and sharing secrets in the warm light of his trailer. Only a few months into filming, the two of you were attached at the hip. Inseparable. It became a running joke. If anyone asked where either of you was, the answer was always with the other. 

-

“Where’s Fred?” An assistant called out onto the crowded set one day. “He’s needed in hair and makeup!” 

“Where’s y/n meant to be right now?” Paul asked, barely looking up from the script in his lap. The young girl looked down at the clipboard in her hands, combing through the schedules and call sheets. Costume department, she concluded after a few moments of frantic shuffling. “Well, there’s your answer then.”

Pedro had laughed for days recounting the story, shaking his head at how predictable you and Fred had become.

-

“Are you excited?” Fred’s voice softened, meant only for you now despite the buzzing room. You lit up with a smile and a nod. You were incredibly excited. You had never been a guest at a panel before. “Nervous?”

“Not really,” you shook your head and shrugged. “Just more surprised, I think?” You mused aloud with a tilt of your head. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you were invited to the panel at this convention today. 

You knew that your role wasn’t as impactful as people told you it was, they were just trying to be nice. You had less than ten lines in the whole film. Being invited to a panel discussing the complexities of the plot and the acting behind it was an honor! But a confusing one.

You had a sneaking suspicion that, somehow, Fred was behind it.

“Surprised?” Fred asked, his eyebrows rising and dipping in quick succession in that way that they do. “Why?”

“Just that—” You glanced around, as if gathering evidence. “Everyone here was pretty high up on that call list.” Fred’s brows furrowed even further this time and you knew what was coming.

“Don’t do that to yourself, y/n,” he almost whined. “You were a driving force—”

“I’m not tryna minimize my work, Fred.” You chuckled lightheartedly, cutting him off before he went on a tangent. He was always quick to pop any bubbles of self-doubt that formed in your brain, but this really wasn’t the case. “I know I worked hard on this movie. We both did.” You held his hand in yours. “But… Alexander wasn’t invited.” You pointed out with raised brows. Alexander had played Ravi in the movie, the healer in the Colosseum. “I’m pretty sure he had more lines than I did.”

“But you definitely had more screen time,” came Fred’s quick rebuttal. “Actually, that’s why I told them you should come—”

“I knew it!” You exclaimed in a whisper, making sure your conversation didn’t attract any attention. You were enjoying the private moment in the crowded room and there was no need for it to end so quickly. “I knew you did this!”

Fred’s grin tilted, eyes glinting with quiet defiance. “What? Am I supposed to feel bad for wanting people to notice how good you are?” He laughed. “You had almost as much screen time as anyone here, but nowhere near enough lines. So I told them that your insight into your character and the plot was just as interesting, if not more.”

“Does this count as nepotism?”

“Shut up!” Fred giggled, lightly punching your shoulder. “I just feel like— If I can help you get the recognition you deserve, why wouldn’t I?”

“Alright, thank you all for arriving on time.” A producer spoke up, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and putting an end to your conversation. You turned away from Fred to face her as she spoke, a smile still lingering on your face. 

“We’re gonna start calling you guys out now, one by one. It’s gonna be in the order your names are set up on the table, so you just come out and sit in the chair farthest from your entry. Does that make sense?” She asked, receiving a few nods. “Is everyone ready?” Another round of nods and yeses left the group, yours along with them.

“Don’t overthink it,” Fred whispered to you with a squeeze of your knee. “Just enjoy the moment.”

At that, you could hear the producer hype up the crowd for the cast’s arrival.

“That’s our cue.” Pedro got up from the couch with a clap of his hands. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Fred replied, standing up along with Pedro. “How about you, old man?”

“Creaky at the knees, but it’s alright.” Pedro teased, giving Fred a playful punch on the shoulder. That’s when you heard Pedro’s name called out into the microphone followed by the crowd’s roar in applause and cheers. “Later, losers!”

One by one the cast was called out, Fred’s name being the last one before yours. You breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful to be sitting next to him.

“y/n l/n!” Your name blasted through the speaker, signaling your cue to head out onto the stage. You walked out with a smile and a wave, the crowd cheering at your arrival. You sat down at the long table facing the audience, right there next to Fred. 

Your name was printed on a place card in front of you, spelled right and everything. With every passing day of working on this project, you felt more and more that you had finally found your place in the world.

The producer’s voice blurred into the background, distant and dull. Your focus drifted to the sea of faces ahead—posters with your name in big bright letters, shirts with your face printed on them. Some people were even dressed as your character from the movie. It was surreal.

The warmth of Fred’s hand on your knee tethered you back to the present. His steady gaze met yours, silently reminding you to breathe. He knew how overwhelming it could all be. And he knew what you were thinking, he could see it too. He was so proud of you. 

Fred squeezed your knee twice, a small act to show you that he saw you. To show you that he was there for you. And maybe, cockily, he was saying ‘I told you so’. That your presence was wanted here, not just by him. 

“We’ll get started with questions from the audience then.” The producer announced, motioning for a member of the crew to turn on the spotlight facing the crowd. When the light turned on, it illuminated a microphone on its stand in the middle aisle between all the chairs, and, with it, an incredibly long line of fans. Each with a vetted question, the producer assured.

Most questions were for Paul, though that wasn’t surprising. Many for Pedro and Denzel, as well. 

You listened and laughed along, enjoying the easy going nature of the conversation. A lot of the questions were based on the acting, which was a topic well loved by actors of course. But some, as expected, were about the on-set dynamics.

“What was your first impression of your castmates?” A teenage girl asked Paul.

This launched a chaotic answer, with multiple people joining in at once, talking over the other and laughing loudly. 

“We all know that I was absolutely terrified of Denzel at the beginning.” Paul laughed, patting Denzel, who was sitting next to him, on the back.

“So was I!” Joseph cracked up. “But I thought Fred was such a sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with him. “Fred was incredibly kind to me on my first day on set.”

“Kind?” Pedro questioned, eyebrows upturned in surprise. “Little asshole is what he was.”

“He saves the sweet stuff for her,” Paul chuckled.

“Yeah, well Pedro was an old man calling me short and she was a pretty girl who was lost.” Fred defended himself with his arms crossed, tone clearly kidding. The crowd’s laughter rose at the banter, even if it was obviously turned up for the panel. “Who would you help, huh?” 

-

It was your first day on set and your very skin was buzzing with how excited you were. Your schedule said that you should start your day in the hair and make up department, and you heard someone say that it was next to the crafts center. But you couldn’t find either of them for the life of you. And you should’ve been worried about being late for your very first appointment on the set, but you were just too enthralled with it all.

The set was beautiful! Malta, as a whole, was absolutely gorgeous, but the set was something else. It truly felt like you were transported back in time— if you ignored the cameras, speakers, and lights, of course. You had heard of Arthur Max’s work on other productions, and of course knew of his work on the first movie. But experiencing it first hand was almost an out of body experience. 

You knew that, when the time came, immersing yourself on the set would be a piece of cake. An actor’s dream really, that was what this type of set was.

“Uh, y/n?” Your name being called out from behind you caused you to spin around. “Oh, it is you.” The man’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Hi, I’m Fred.”

Fred Hechinger. You knew exactly who he was.

“I’m y/n.” You replied, stretching out a hand for him to shake. “But you already knew that.”

“Yeah, well from what I hear, we’re going to be exclusively working together.” Fred laughed as he shook your hand. “Had to do some research on my scene partner.”

“Glad I’m not the only one, then.” You chuckled.

When your manager told you of his secured position as Emperor Caracalla, you knew you wanted to look him up. Many other actors accepted the role before flaking for ‘scheduling issues’, so you were never sure who you were actually going to work with. But once Fred’s acceptance was confirmed, you went on a deep dive. You watched as many of his shows and movies as you could, his IMDb tab constantly open on your laptop.

“They were calling for you in hair and make up,” he said. “I offered to look for you and help you find the way.”

“How did you know I was lost?” You raised an eyebrow as you asked. You weren’t really lost, more so taking advantage of the lack of directions.

“Oh, I know you’re not lost.” Fred shook his head with furrowed brows as he folded his arms, faux seriousness painted his expression. Fred’s effortless confidence had an unexpected charm. It was magnetic. “But if I tell them it took me a while to find you, then we can admire the set for a bit longer.”

Your surprise melted into quiet laughter.

And just like that, you had made a friend.

-

Back on the panel stage, you leaned into the mic, smiling softly. “He gave me a tour.” You recalled. “And he vouched for me at hair and make up, because I was almost half an hour late.”

“On your first day?!” Paul questioned in astonishment, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Ballsy move, y/n. I could never.” Paul tsked and shook his head at you in disappointment.

“Hey!” You called out in offence, throwing an arm up in Fred’s direction. “Blame Fred, he’s the bad influence here!”

“Entirely my fault.” Fred nodded with his hand raised. “I take full responsibility for corrupting the child.”

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re like two minutes older than me.”

“Two minutes?! For your information,” Fred pointed at the crowd as he spoke now, “I am years older than her. Years!”

Another fan stepped up to the microphone, pulling you back to the task at hand. “Were there any funny on-set moments or inside jokes that made it into the movie? Or at least stayed with you afterwards?”

“Bless you.” Pedro whispered into the mic, causing a wave of giggles to pass through the rest of the line up.

“‘Bless you’ was a good one, I liked it.” Joseph smiled before bursting into laughter at a memory, sending Fred a look from across the table. "Tell them about the sword!"

Fred groans, but the memory sparks in your mind—the clang of metal and his ridiculous deadpan expression.

Connie lets out a loud laugh as she recalls the incident. “Fear me!” She clapped her hands together as she giggled. “Oh, it was hilarious!”

“Fear me,” echoes in your head, and suddenly you’re there again, barely holding back laughter on the set.

-

It was a late night, you were filming the scene where the emperors confront Acacius and Lucilla regarding their treachery. Ridley had instructed Joseph and Fred to make their reactions as dramatic as they saw fit, considering how fervid the scenario would make the twins.

You had been filming for hours at that point, the energy amongst you growing more chaotic with each take. Everything was funny to you now as the sleep deprivation finally hit.

During one of the takes, Fred jumped out of his seat on the throne and grabbed a prop sword from a nearby guard, as was written in the script. He was supposed to point it at Pedro and Connie, yelling about their punishments, as Joseph held him back. But, with each shake, you noticed how unstable the prop looked.

A loud clang echoed in the marble halls of the set. The sword had fallen right off of its handle.

No one said a word. Fred’s face scrunched up in confusion and anger. He stared at the broken hilt in his hand, then at Pedro. Without missing a beat, he raised it like a dagger. “Fear me.” He whispered menacingly, nose to nose with the older actor.

That’s it. Pedro snorted so loudly that the entire set erupted into laughter. You and Joseph were crying from laughing so hard. Denzel was chuckling into his hand, and Connie was leaning on Pedro to stay upright. 

“How dare you mock me?!” Fred shrieked, staying in character, even when it was clear the take was a lost cause, if only to keep making the rest of you laugh. “I am your emperor!”

“Alright, alright.” You hear Ridley’s voice call out, winding down from his own laughter. “One more time, then we’ll call it a night. Someone fix that sword, please!”

None of you ever let Fred live it down afterwards. 

Pedro would grab a toothpick from the crafts table and follow Fred around with it, a soft and dark ‘Fear me’ heard under his breath.

-

"Honestly, I thought Ridley would leave it in the movie." Fred shrugs, laughing it off. “If only someone didn’t break and ruin it all.” He sent a teasing look to Pedro out of the corner of his eyes.

You wipe a few tears from the corner of your eye as you catch your breath. “It wasn’t even that funny. We were just so tired.”

“It was like four in the morning, we were done.” Joseph explained to the crowd, still coming down from his giggles. 

“Anything would’ve been funny to us at the time.”

After the crowd’s volume slowly dwindled, another fan came up and asked about Denzel’s performance. Denzel spoke about how much he enjoyed the freedom Ridley allowed the actors in this movie. How exciting it all was. 

Afterwards, someone asked about how Joseph balanced working on multiple sets at a time. Pedro joked about Joseph being sought after and hard to find, always in a different part of the world. Joseph shot back at Pedro that they were always together anyways, considering how they both were working on ‘Fantastic Four’ together.

Another audience member asked Connie how it felt to come back to this movie after more than two decades. She talked at length about the differences and similarities the two sets had. How it was both nostalgic and new. 

Someone else stepped up to the mic and nervously waved to the cast after the laughter had died down. “My question is for Fred.” Fred perked up and smiled, nodding at her to continue. “How did you prepare for the emotionally vulnerable scenes you had as Caracalla while staying true to both his character and his sickness?”

“That’s a really good question.” Fred nodded, his arm coming up from your knee to rub at his shoulder. It was so incredibly endearing to you how he reacted to attention. “It was important, definitely. To make sure that you weren’t just seeing his sickness, but the true him under it all. And I think Caracalla, the man and not the sick emperor, really shined in those vulnerable moments.” His hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke and you were enamored the whole way through, not expecting them to motion to you next.  “But, at the end of the day, I think you just really have to trust your scene partner.” 

Fred looked at you with a shy but knowing smile, “It takes a lot of practice to be vulnerable in front of someone, even if it is just pretending. And y/n was always incredibly kind and supportive whenever I lacked that—that vulnerability—that powerlessness. It wasn’t that I lacked it, per se. It’s just a difficult thing to tap into. And she was always there to help me through it.”

Your eyes dropped downwards as you felt your chin dip towards your chest, your head tilting slightly to the side as a smile grew on your face. The crowd awed in response to both Fred’s words and your reaction.

Fred’s compliment sent your stomach twisting in knots. You glanced at him, his hand went back to its previous position, resting on your knee, steady and grounding. It reminded you of that quiet morning on set when everything between you shifted.

-

The set was calmer that morning than what you were used to. The haze of sleep still clung to the few crew members needed on set this early. They shuffled about quietly, setting up for the day's shoot. Fred sat on the edge of the prop bed, script in hand, shoulders slumped forward as he stared at the lines that refused to feel right. 

You were sitting on a couch a few feet away, observing him, script laying forgotten in your lap. His fingers absently tugged at his earlobe, a nervous habit you had come to recognize at this point in your friendship. He had been having difficulties with connecting with Caracalla’s childlike vulnerability. And it wasn’t because he didn’t know the lines—Fred knew them backwards and forwards. 

It was the emotion, the raw vulnerability of Caracalla crying like a child to Lovie about Geta, that he couldn’t quite reach.

You had been running lines all night, but he wasn’t performing it to his own incredibly high standards. So you had told him to get a good night’s rest and that you could practice some more in the morning before call time. You spent some time researching trust building exercises, because you were sure that Fred had it in him. He just had to trust you enough to let it rise to the surface.

After you watched him run through the scene a few more times with no progress, you got a look of determination in your eyes. “Alright!” You inhaled deeply and dropped your script onto the seat next to you. “How about we try something else?”

Fred’s head snapped up at your voice, the both of you having been silently in each other's company prior to your exclamation. “Like what?”

“Trust exercises!”

He blinked, unimpressed. "y/n, I really don't think—"

“Come on, it won’t hurt to try!” You insisted, knowing that he was worn down and everything felt useless. But you had faith in him. “For me?”

He rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fine.” You cheered quietly at his agreement. “What did you have in mind?”

You stood and moved to sit across from him, knees nearly brushing. "Eye contact. No talking, just hold my gaze. Nothing else."

“For how long?”

“As long as possible.”

He hesitated for a second but leaned in slightly, blue eyes locking onto yours. The silence stretched. At first, it was easy. The hours you'd spent together on set had built a quiet comfort between you. You were comfortable with each other now, as any pair of friends would be.

But slowly, the air around you shifted.

Had his eyes always been this blue? And so full of emotion? You wondered how you had never noticed these things about him before. The longer you looked, the more your chest tightened, like you were standing too close to the edge of a cliff. You swallowed hard.

Fred’s head tilted, his eyes scanning yours as if he were searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Then, without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently brushed his thumb along your cheek, swiping away an eyelash that had landed there. The touch was featherlight, but it sparked something within you. Something new.

You sucked in a breath, breaking the rhythm of your breathing and pulling Fred’s attention to your lips. 

He quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. "Sorry. You had—uh—you had an eyelash."

You barely managed a nod, heat blooming beneath your skin. The air had changed so suddenly. It was sharp, tense, and neither of you knew how to break the spell.

More crew members were starting to file in, calling out names and times. The usual hustle and bustle on set was rising. Your name was called out from one side and Fred’s from another, instructions to go to wardrobe for you and hair and makeup for Fred.

“I—I should go.” Came Fred’s stuttered response as he slowly got up and backed away, his eyes now finding it difficult to stay on yours.

“Uh yeah, me too.” You nodded with pursed lips, just as awkward as he was.

That was different, you pondered as you walked away. You had never seen Fred in that light before. You had never reacted like that to his touch. This was entirely new territory for you. You liked Fred.

Oh no.

How predictable. Catching feelings for your on screen lover. You had to suppress the eye roll. This was something you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do once you got into the film industry.

But how could you resist? Fred was so kind and caring, so helpful and affectionate. His smile never failed to bring a similar one to your face. Now that you thought of it, you were a bit surprised it had taken you this long to notice. 

You had a crush on Fred.

And you were almost positive he didn’t see you in that way. 

This was horrible, you thought as you reached the wardrobe department. You were regretting everything. Not only was Fred no longer just a friend in your eyes, you were sure that you had ruined any chances of him getting this scene right after this. You groaned quietly to yourself as you changed into your costume in the dressing room. What a way to start the day.

But later, as the cameras rolled, Fred laid in your lap, perfectly in character. Something was different about him. He seemed more… open. More calm. When you softly carded your fingers through his hair to comfort Caracalla, Fred’s hand drifted to your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin without thinking. Almost in the same way he had that morning.

It wasn’t scripted. But you stayed in the scene, unflinching. You wiped away his tears as he moaned about his wretched brother and the empire he was forced to bear the weight of. He was delivering the scene perfectly. Almost like nothing unsavory had transpired between the two of you less than an hour ago.

Ridley, watching from behind the monitors, leaned forward. Eyes glued to the screen. Once the scene had played its course, he called it. "Cut!” His voice boomed through the speakers.

Fred carefully got up from your lap, though not straying far.

An assistant quickly came over with a walkie-talkie. Ridley’s voice broke through the static, fragmented but understandable. “Fred, that wasn't in the script."

Fred sat up quickly, already apologizing. "Sorry, it just—"

"I liked it. Let's run it again. Same way."

Your eyes flicked to Fred, wide in surprise. He liked it. Ridley liked it. Fred shared his own surprised smile with you.

He finally got it. That obstacle was overcome. And Ridley noticed. It was exciting to have your work appreciated in that way. And he had you to thank, even if you thought otherwise.

And, in the process, something had shifted between you.

-

Then someone asked Paul who his closest friends were on set, pulling you back to the present moment. 

“You want me to make enemies of my colleagues now, do you?” Paul chuckled nervously, garnering a laugh from the crowd. “No, in all seriousness, I made many great friendships on this set. Pedro, of course Denzel, Connie, all great mentors that I can call friends now, I think. But who I spent the most time with on set? That would probably be Fred. Fred and y/n, yeah. They’re a package deal, as well. So yeah, it was always us three.”

His answer takes you back to a pivotal moment you had with Paul on set. You knew from then that he had your back, in every situation. Even in matters where he had no stake, you knew you could trust him. 

-

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky over the ancient stone set, casting long shadows across the Colosseum replica. The usual hum of activity filled the air. You were sitting on Caracalla’s throne overlooking the arena, legs dangling off the edge as you scrolled absentmindedly through your phone.

Paul plopped down beside you with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

“Easy!” You laughed. “What did the chair ever do to you?”

Paul leaned over slightly to peek at your screen, completely disregarding what you had said to him. “Who are you texting?”

“No one.” You locked your phone quickly.

Paul’s smirk deepened. “So it is someone.”

“No, Paul.” You shot him a look.

He tilted his head and grinned. “Oh, so it’s Fred.”

Your stomach flipped. “Paul!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one heard.

“Oh, come on!” Paul leaned back, arms stretched behind him. “When are you not texting Fred?”

You groaned as your palms covered your eyes in embarrassment. “It’s not—” you mumbled before smothering your face in your hands.

“Not what?” Paul teased, nudging your knee with his.

“It’s not a big deal.” You exhaled, peeking at him between your fingers. “We’re just friends. Don’t make it weird.”

Paul gave you a flat look.

“Friends?”

“Yes!”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “Okay.” He shrugged, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“Thank you.” You breathed out in relief, glad he was letting it go.

After a short moment of silence, he spoke back up. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” He motioned to the air between the two of you with his pointer finger. 

“Paul—” You groaned, knowing exactly where he was going with this. 

“And I’d like to think that Fred and I are friends as well.” He leaned towards your side in his seat now, coming face to face with you. “I don’t take long walks with him on the lot, hand in hand. He’s not giving me his jacket when I’m cold. He didn’t let me braid his hair in the hair and makeup trailer.”

You glared at him. “That last one was one time.”

“Not the point.” Paul leaned closer. “He’s different with you.”

You bit your lip, looking away. “I don’t know… Fred’s—he’s sweet. He’s friendly. That’s just who he is!”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, but he’s not that sweet or friendly with anyone else.”

You stayed quiet, fingers picking at a loose thread on the hem of your costume.

Paul’s tone softened. “Don’t sell yourself short, y/n.”

Your eyes flicked to his, hesitant but curious.

“You’re smart, talented, and funny. And let’s not pretend the Roman attire doesn’t suit you perfectly.” He gave you a playful nudge.

You laughed despite yourself. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” Paul’s grin changed into something more sincere. “Fred should consider himself lucky that you like him.”

Your cheeks burned.

“I just don’t want to—” You mumbled and trailed off. “Ugh, I don’t know. I don't want to make things weird between us.”

“You two are too stubborn for your own good. Someone’s gotta give.” Paul mumbled before raising his eyebrows at you. “You can’t yearn forever.” 

“Can’t I?”

His gaze softened as he took in your expression. “You really don’t see how he looks at you, do you?”

“What?” Your brows furrowed and you shot up in your seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Paul laughed in shock, pulling back and looking out onto the expanse of the set. “Wow.” He muttered to himself. “I can’t tell which of you is dumber.”

“Hey! I can still hear you!”

“Maybe put some of your other senses to use then, idiot!” Paul retorted as he got out of his seat, the speakers on set calling for him to go someplace or other. He walked away mumbling to himself, leaving you sitting there, staring after him, unsure of what to think anymore. 

-

“And I, of course, was chopped liver.” Joseph spoke solemnly to the crowd, dragging you out of your reminiscence. “Paul loved Pedro, Denzel, Connie, Fred, and y/n. But not poor old Joseph.” 

Paul stumbled over his words as he backtracked. “And Joseph! Of course, I was always with Joseph!” Paul cried, pleading with an unyielding Joseph. All a bit to keep everyone entertained, you knew.

“No, no, you can’t undo what’s been done.” Joseph shook his head dramatically at Paul as he motioned for the next person to step up to the microphone. “You have made an enemy tonight, Paul. I hope you’re happy.”

“My question is actually for Joseph.” The fan sheepishly spoke, sending Paul an illusionary apologetic smile.

“I have what you can never have, Paul. The love and affection of the general public.” Joseph deadpanned as he looked over at Paul before turning back to the girl at the microphone. “Go on, darling. What’s your question?” Joseph smirked as he looked away, leaving Paul rolling his eyes.

“Well, um, Paul and Pedro had extensive physical transformations they had to undergo to prepare for the role.” Joseph rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion at the mention of Paul, the joke still running. “What did you have to do to prepare for Geta?”

“Not much, actually.” Joseph snorted. “I got really interested in the history of it, but in comparison to Paul and Pedro? Yeah, we got off easy. Didn’t we, Fred? Just loads of eyeliner.”

“Yeah.” Fred laughed as he nodded. “Shaving and eyeliner was our morning routine for a few months.” The crowd, as well as the cast, laughed at Fred’s note. “Emperor Caracalla is clean shaven, but I’m not.” He chuckled, hand instinctively rubbing at his chin at the thought of his light beard. “So I had to shave almost everyday, but that was about it for me.” With a glance towards you, you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

-

It had been another late night in Fred’s trailer. You were curled up on his couch, legs tucked under you, as you watched Fred pace back and forth. He had been reviewing lines, occasionally muttering to himself, but you hadn’t been paying close attention, not until the soft scruff along his jaw caught the light.

Your eyes narrowed.

“Fred,” you called softly.

He paused, blinking at you. “Yeah?”

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “You’re getting a little...scruffy.”

Fred instinctively brought a hand to his chin, rubbing over the light stubble that had started to grow in. “Ah, shit.”

“What?” You asked, sitting up now.

“Sam’s out sick,” He explained. “Usually, they shave me every morning. I don’t know how I forgot about it today. Emily needs me to be clean shaven tomorrow.” He mumbled lightly, as if he was only thinking to himself out loud.

You pushed up from the couch, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. “Let me do it.”

Fred blinked. “What?” It was like he forgot you were here for a moment. Or, more accurately, he forgot that you were actively listening to his stream of consciousness. He didn’t expect you to offer to solve this non-issue for him. 

“Let me shave you,” you repeated, stepping closer. You gently grabbed his chin, feeling his rough hair between your fingers. You turned his face this way and that, appraising the work you’d have to do if he agreed. “I mean, you can say no if you don’t feel comfortable with your fate in my hands.”

He giggled, eyes softening as he watched you study his facial hair. “Is this another trust exercise?”

You smirked, eyes lighting up and looking back into his. “Maybe.”

Fred considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, Lovie. Have at it.”

The nickname sent a small spark through you, but you shook it off, hiding your grin as you gestured for him to follow you to the little bathroom in the corner of his trailer.

Fred settled on the closed toilet seat after you patted it, a silent command to sit down. He looked up at you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. You rummaged through the small drawer under the sink, pulling out shaving cream and a razor.

“Fear me.” You whispered as you held aloft the blade, watching Fred roll his eyes at the reference.

“You better not botch this,” he teased, leaning back. He couldn’t help but admire you from this angle. The bathroom lighting highlighted your features so beautifully, though he was sure he’d think that of any lighting.

“It seems easy enough.” You shrugged as you squeezed a bit of shaving cream onto your fingers, rubbing your hands together before gently spreading it over his jaw. The cool foam made him shiver slightly.

Fred’s eyes got wide, his head frozen in your grasp. “You’re telling me you’ve never done this before?”

Your eyes sparkled as you raised your brows excitedly, grin wide. “I’m testing your limits. Is this one of them?”

You saw Fred’s eyes dance back and forth as he thought this through. It seemed the risks outweighed the cons, though not by much, because he nodded apprehensively. “Do your worst.” His eyes widened once more and then he winced. “That’s just a saying, please actually do your very best. Don’t hurt the money maker, alright?”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes with a snort. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. Now hold still.”

Slowly, carefully, you dragged the blade along his jawline, your hand steady. Fred’s eyes flickered to yours, but he didn’t move. His breathing slowed, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you in silence.

The room felt smaller.

Your thumb gently tilted his chin, guiding him where you needed. His skin was warm beneath your touch.

“You’re doing well,” you murmured, focusing on the careful strokes of the razor.

“So are you,” Fred hummed. “You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I’m that good, huh?” You chuckled, feeling him nod in response with the slightest dip of his chin in your palm. “Maybe I should go pro.”

“You’d leave all the glitz and glamour of being an actress and come shave my scruff every morning?” He asked, laughter lacing his words.

“You’re giving away Sam’s job that easy?” You raised your brows.

“To you? Of course.” He chuckled lightly. “Everything’s easy when it’s you.” The words slipped out, softer than he meant. The air thickened, and Fred’s eyes widened a fraction too late. The words weighed heavily in the space around you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Fred’s eyes flickered to yours at your silence. Whatever he said must’ve been the wrong thing to say, he thought, because your facial expression was unreadable to him. “I’m sor—”

“Everything’s easy when it’s you too, Fred.” You whispered back before he could complete his sentence. With one final swipe of the blade along his jaw, you stepped back from him and the moment. “There. All done.” 

-

You smiled to yourself at the memory, glancing back at Fred next to you. You preferred him with the facial hair, you concluded. 

“Who was the best mentor on set?” Someone else asked once they had their turn at the microphone, the question not directed towards anyone in particular. But Joseph took it upon himself to answer for someone else.

“I know who Fred’s gonna say.” Joseph whispered into the microphone, causing Fred to roll his eyes.

“It was me.” Pedro smirked, flexing his biceps and wiggling his eyebrows at Fred. “He can deny it all he wants, but I pushed that kid when he needed it. Didn’t I, Freddie?”

“You did.” Fred mumbled, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.

“Hell yeah, I did!” Pedro pumped his fist in the air. “Those stories are private, for Fred’s sake. But I’m a good mentor!”

“The best there is.” Fred confirmed, a slight blush colored his cheeks as he snuck a glance at you.

-

It had been a while since the moment Pedro cemented himself as Fred’s mentor in the younger actor’s eyes. He had learned a lot from him. Both as an actor and as a human being.

But something changed between Pedro and Fred one day. 

A day where you had been utterly exhausted. You were filming in a grand room, the scene depicting a party or gathering of some type, you couldn’t recall the details. Everything was as opulent as you would expect with the twin emperors, of course. 

You and Fred had been up all night, bingeing movie after movie, showing each other your favorites and analyzing every scene. When you saw him the next day on set, you were shocked at how awake he was. Everything felt like it was in slow motion for you. You had never been more appreciative of your lack of lines in this movie.

After a few takes of you blinking slowly in the background, Ridley had called for a break. Something wasn’t right with the focus on a few cameras and a monitor or two needed recalibrating. Technical issues that shouldn’t take too long to fix. An assistant director said the issue could take about half an hour to resolve, so you turned to Fred, a silent question in your eyes and a slight pout on your lips.

You and Fred cuddled often, but never outside of his trailer. Movie night was just an excuse for you to curl up in his arms at this point, though neither of you ever acknowledged that. 

But you were so tired, and the pillows on the couch were decorative and stiff. And Fred was right there. It would only be thirty minutes. Just a quick lie down.

Fred saw your face and knew exactly what you wanted from him. He leaned back into the couch and patted at his lap, giving you space to lie down. It didn’t even register to him that anyone would notice nor care. 

His hands instinctively went to brush his fingers through your hair, your nightly routine as of recently. With his cologne and his warmth enveloping you, as well as the soothing motion of his fingers against your scalp, it was less than five minutes later that you were snoozing away.

Pedro looked over and saw the two of you cozied up together and couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the scene. He had been trying to throw hints at Fred for weeks about the two of you. It was clear as day. But neither of you was brave enough to bring it up, fearing the other’s lack of reciprocation. If only you two could see what everyone else saw.

He shared a look with Paul, who was watching along with him. “Go talk some sense into him, Pascal.” Paul snickered lightly, giving Pedro a slight shove in your direction. 

“I’ll try my best, Mescal.” Pedro sighed. 

“Is she out?” He asked quietly once he had settled down beside Fred on the couch, not wanting to wake you up.

“Like a light.” Fred muttered, eyes never leaving your sleeping profile. “It’s my fault, really. Kept her up all night.”

“What did you watch this time?” Pedro smiled, knowing of the private movie nights held every evening in the trailer next to his.

“The Godfather.” Fred answered. “Actually, both of them.”

“The sequel is amazing.” Pedro nodded, but he wasn’t really engrossed in the conversation as much as he was in Fred. It was hard not to admire Fred as he admired you.

“Definitely.” Fred nodded, not even sparing Pedro a glance. The boy was in love and he didn’t even know it. But so were you, to be fair.

“She’s just as bad as you are, you know? Thinking too much, scared to say something first.” Pedro mused, eyeing you curled up in Fred’s lap. You never looked as comfortable as you did in Fred’s presence. Pedro leaned in and his voice dropped an octave. “You should tell her.”

“Huh?” Fred is finally pulled out of the trance you had unknowingly put him in, snapping up to look at Pedro for the first time since he sat down. “Tell her what?”

“I’m saying,” Pedro emphasized each word, “She’s just as oblivious as you are.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you should tell her how you feel!” Fred instinctively cupped his hand around your ear, guarding you from Pedro’s sudden laughter like it was second nature. You hadn’t even flinched, too deep in your slumber to notice. But Pedro did, he noticed Fred’s subtle protectiveness. It was sweet. And increasingly frustrating.

Fred scoffed, his cheeks glaringly crimson. “I think I’d prefer not risking those odds.”

“Buddy, trust me. Every single odd is in your favor.”

“Don’t quote the hunger games at me right now.” Fred rolled his eyes. 

Pedro frowned in frustration, leaning closer to Fred. “You really don’t see how gone she is for you?”

A few moments of silence pass between them. Fred’s eyes on you, and Pedro’s eyes on Fred’s lovesick expression. “...You really think she likes me back?”

“She’s not sleeping in my lap, is she?” Pedro smirked, standing back up. “Just think about it, would you?”

-

Fred buried his face in his hands to cover up his flushed cheeks. You shot him a concerned look, but he shook his head to ease your worries. You didn’t know about what had transpired between Fred and Pedro in the same way Fred didn’t know about what happened between you and Paul. And you both wanted to keep it that way. Too embarrassed that everyone else seemed to know of your affection for the other before you did.

“Did any unscripted scenes make it into the movie?” someone asked, pulling you back to the crowd once more.

You and Fred immediately glance back at each other with shy smiles.

Paul talked about the scene where he kissed Pedro’s forehead in the arena, even though it was technically cut. 

But then he turned to the rest of the table. “What about you, Fred?” He asked pointedly, noticing how you had looked at each other when the question was asked. “You had a scene they left in, didn’t you?”

Fred chuckled nervously, scratching behind his ear. “Yeah, a few made it in. But… you probably mean when I called her ‘Lovie,’ right?” The crowd roars in response and Fred’s ears turn pink as he tugs at them. “Yeah, about that…”

-

Fred had started calling you Lovie after that day he was having difficulties with that one scene. He hadn’t even realized when it started, but now, it was just second nature.

Today was the day you would be filming a scene you were dreading. The day Caracalla, the sick emperor you had spent months embodying a devotion to, would die. And you were taking it hard. You had somehow made a place for him in your heart. 

Fred thought it was sweet how your affections grew for his character. He assured you that he understood, working on a long term project like this always leaves an imprint on actors. 

The filming schedule on set didn’t rely on the order of the scenes, but more on the availability of certain sets and certain crew members. So even though this was nowhere near the last scene you had to film with Fred as Caracalla, nor was filming coming to an end anytime soon, you were filming Fred’s last scene in the movie.

The wardrobe department was a maze of fabric and armor, with soft R&B muffling through a nearby speaker, someone no doubt wanting to lighten the atmosphere in the stuffy warehouse. 

You sat hunched in a chair, eyes locked on the hem of your sweater, fingers twisting the fabric. You and Fred were waiting together to be given your costumes for the day.

It all felt so much heavier than you expected.

“You okay?”

Fred’s voice was gentle, but you didn’t lift your head. You just let out a quiet, shaky laugh.

“I’m being ridiculous.”

He came to crouch in front of you, elbows on his knees, watching you carefully. “No, you’re not.”

You sighed, pressing your palms to your face. “I’m getting emotional over the death of a villain in a movie.”

Fred’s head tilted. “Hey, we both know he wasn’t really a villain.” His voice carried a soft laugh with it.

Your lips twitched upward. “He was just misunderstood.”

“And syphilitic.”

You let out a wet laugh, wiping your face. “Yeah, and that.”

Fred grinned, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. Slowly, he stood and offered his hand. “Dance with me, Lovie.”

You blinked at him.

“What?”

“Come on,” he urged softly, fingers still outstretched.

The nickname barely registered in your mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it felt different now, like a natural extension of you.

You slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet.

Fred’s palms settled at your waist, hesitant at first. But when you leaned in, looping your arms around his neck, his grip tightened, like letting go wasn’t an option. You swayed together, slow and easy, surrounded by walls of costumes and muffled music.

“How dumb is this?” you whispered, though the corners of your mouth lifted.

“It’s not dumb, Lovie.” Fred shook his head slightly, his hand gently smoothing over your hair. “Nothing you do is dumb.”

The nickname lingered in the air.

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

“I’d take care of him so well,” you murmured, only slightly serious.

Fred let out a soft chuckle, his breath warming the top of your head.

“You did, Lovie,” he whispered back. “You did take care of him.”

And later, when you filmed the scene, the two of you covered in fake blood and silks, you couldn’t differentiate your character’s tears from your own. It all felt like the end of something. It felt like mourning.

When Fred said ‘Lovie’ instead of ‘My love’ as he wilted in your arms, you didn’t even register the deviation in the script. Only when it was over, when Ridley’s voice crackled through one of the hand held radios, did it hit you.

“Beautiful. Keep calling her that, Fred.” Ridley commended. “Lovie. Should’ve thought of that myself.”

-

“So what he means to say,” you spoke to the crowd, “is that my dramatics fundamentally affected the movie.”

“She was actually so sad,” Fred frowned, “It was heartbreaking. It was an honest mistake, though. Calling her ‘Lovie’.”

“But did you tell them where it came from?” Connie asked, teasingly looking at Fred.

“We uh—” He chuckled bashfully. “y/n and I called her character ‘Lovie’, because it was hard to workshop a character with no name.”

“And then ‘Lovie’ stopped being the character’s nickname,” Pedro chimed in with further explanation, “And it started being y/n’s.”

“I thought it was so sweet.” Connie sighed. “And it suits her so well.” 

“Ridley loved it, too.” Denzel joined. “I heard him grumbling over the radio. Something about how he didn’t think of it before.”

“No one cried when Fred cut off my head, though.” Joseph shrugged with a shake of his head. “Take from that what you will.”

“Actually, I did.” You corrected him with a smirk. “Don’t underestimate my propensity to get emotional when it comes to film.”

“Did you?” Joseph perked up, leaning forwards to look at you across the table. “Did she really?” He asked Fred, like he was the authority on all things true about you.

“Oh yeah.” Fred nodded. “And the scene where Caracalla asks where his brother is. Inconsolable. Sad movies are her weakness. You should’ve seen her when we watched ‘My Girl’.”

“Don’t bring that up right now.” You closed your eyes and shook your head solemnly, raising a palm in Fred’s direction. “He wasn’t wearing his goddamn glasses, Freddie.”

“It’s alright, Lovie,” Fred chuckled, speaking away from the microphone as he leaned closer to you. His voice dropped lower, only for you to hear. “We’ll watch a happy one tonight. Non-negotiable.”

You nodded at him, a smile growing on your face. Fred never failed to make you feel special, like you were a priority to him. Your choices always came above his, no matter how hard you insisted. It was so easy to love him.

“And our final question to wrap up the panel—”

“Make it a good one!” Pedro called into the microphone, a laugh rippling among the crowd in response.

“Come on up, don’t be shy.” The producer smiled at the young girl last in line to ask a question. “What did you want to ask the cast, honey?”

“What was your first kiss like?”

An ‘aw’ passed through the crowd as well as the cast on a stage. But a slight sweat began to coat your palms. You had been admiring Fred and his kindness only a moment ago. So tranquil, almost like you weren’t sitting in front of a crowd of hundreds of people. But this one question sent a shock of electricity up your spine. You were an actress, you reminded yourself. They wouldn’t know if you told the truth or not, would they? 

You heard Paul mention a school dance, and Pedro talked about a pool party during summer break. Denzel mentioned his wife, Connie spoke briefly of a night in Paris when she was a teenager. Joseph and Fred had similar stories, a stage kiss for a school play and a local production. 

When your turn came, you stuttered over your words. It didn’t feel like you had enough time to make something up, at least not something believable. “I guess—uh—technically, it was on screen.”

“Technically?” Joseph asked, confused. 

“Yeah,” You swallowed as heat bloomed across your cheeks. Your lips were upturned ever so slightly as you recalled that day. “My scene partner offered to practice with me before filming. It was much sweeter than it sounds.” You laughed before letting out a sigh. “It’s a memory I’ll cherish forever.”

-

It was the night before you would film your first intimate scene with Fred. The two of you were sitting on his couch, scripts open but long forgotten. The quiet of the trailer is filled with the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of pages as one of you shifts. You could feel Fred’s presence next to you, close enough that your knees brush when either of you adjusts your position.

“I don’t think Caracalla’s ever had anyone look at him the way Lovie does,” Fred mused, breaking the silence. His voice is soft, contemplative, like he’s voicing a thought meant only for himself.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the sincerity in his tone. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his blue eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “It’s like… even through the haze of his sickness and his trauma, he’s desperate to be seen. And she’s the only one who really does that for him. He doesn’t know how to love, not really, but he tries in his own way.” His gaze shifted to yours, a small, delicate frown tugging at his lips. “It’s tragic really.”

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his expression, the way he’s peeling back a layer of himself in his explanation. “I think Lovie sees that too,” you said softly, barely above a whisper. “And maybe that’s why she stays.”

Fred’s smile faltered, his brows furrowing as he studies you. “You think she chooses to stay?”

“I think…” You paused as you pondered. “I think she’s grown to love him somehow, through this strange, abusive, co-dependent… thing they’ve got going on. And she’s choosing to stay. What you do with love is a choice,” you replied, your voice tinged with something wistful and raw. “Not everyone handles it as carefully as they should.”

The air between you shifted, growing heavier, thicker, as the weight of your words lingered. 

It didn’t feel like you were talking about your character’s anymore. Fred’s eyes didn’t leave yours after you spoke, and you suddenly realized how close he was sitting. His knee brushed yours again, and this time, neither of you moved away.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, his voice impossibly quiet.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribs. “What?”

“Getting it wrong,” he said, his gaze searching for something telling in your eyes. “Love, I mean.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you held his gaze, unable to look away. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “It does scare me, I suppose.”

Fred nodded, a flicker of understanding passed over his face. “Me too.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, without thinking, Fred reached out, his hand brushed against yours where it rested on the cushion between you. His touch was light, almost tentative, but it sent a jolt through you.

“I guess that’s why it’s easier on set,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles. “You get to pretend, just for a little while, that you know what you’re doing.”

You laughed softly, but it caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“Fred…” you started, your voice trailing off as his fingers curled gently around yours. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“I’m nervous about tomorrow.” You confessed, eyes falling down to your lap.

“I know.” He replied. 

You furrowed your brows and lifted your head to look at him questioningly. “You know?”

“Yeah y/n, of course I know.” Fred smiled softly, reassuringly, “I think I would be a bad friend if I couldn’t tell that you were nervous. And I’ve seen your filmography, I know you haven’t done this sort of thing before.”

You didn’t know if it was a relief or not that he thought you were only nervous about the shoot. 

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, eyes flickering downwards. “Never for a project, no.” You hoped he wouldn’t catch the half truth. Or maybe you hoped that he would. You weren’t sure how you felt about all of this.

You liked Fred. You knew this about yourself now. And sometimes, you think that maybe, just maybe, he might like you back. Paul never failed to seize an opportunity to tell you that, of course. But you were too scared to make a fool of yourself. And, selfishly, you didn’t want to lose what you had with Fred. But now, things were progressing. 

Fred was going to be your first kiss.

And that would be hard to overcome. Especially when you already liked him so much. You were afraid that you would imprint on him like a duckling, never seeing anyone else in the same light. And then what would you do?

“y/n?” Fred asked, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Are you alright?” You hummed in response, eyes still unfocused. “Do you wanna do a trust exercise or something?”

“What?” You questioned, finally pulling yourself back to the moment.

“For tomorrow?” Fred explained, raising his eyebrows as he spoke. “To help you feel better about it?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding. This might be just what you need. It was so helpful with Fred that last time, and hopefully it could be for you as well. “You wanna do the eye contact one?”

“How about another one?” Fred asked, leaning back against the back of the couch.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Tell me a secret.”

“What?” You balked. “What kind of exercise is that?”

“A secret for a secret.” Fred shrugged. “How about I start?” You nodded, though apprehensively. “I’m nervous for tomorrow, too.”

“Are you really?” You raised a brow at him. “‘Cause if your secret’s just a lie to make me feel better, then you’re cheating.”

Fred giggled and shook his head. “No, I really am.”

“Why?” You tilted your head inquisitively at him.

“Nope, I already told you my secret.” He pursed his lips and shook his head again. “Now it’s your turn.”

You shifted uncomfortably, tucking your legs beneath you on the couch, the script forgotten in your lap. Fred’s gentle, observant gaze had a way of making you feel bare in a way that wasn’t unsettling, but intimate—like he could read every thought you tried to hide.

“I guess it’s not just in front of the camera,” you admitted softly, fiddling with the corner of a page. The confession felt inevitable, like it had been lingering between the two of you for weeks, just waiting for a moment like this to surface. “I mean… I haven’t done this before. Any of it. Not just on screen.”

Fred's eyes softened as he sat up slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his focus entirely on you. “You mean you—you’ve never been kissed before?” His voice was quiet, not prying but careful, like he didn’t want to scare you away.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

For a moment, Fred didn’t respond. He simply watched you, and you could feel the weight of his attention, not heavy or oppressive. His brows furrowed slightly as if he were choosing his next words carefully.

“That’s… okay, you know,” he said finally. There was no pity in his tone, only a steady reassurance. “I know how intimidating this can be, even for people who’ve done it before.”

“It’s just—” you sighed, leaning back into the couch, exasperated with yourself. “It’s not that I think I can’t do it. I know I can, or at least I hope I can. I just don’t want to look ridiculous. I want it to look real.”

Fred smiled faintly, his head tilting as he considered your words. “It’s admirable, you know?” You hummed in question at him. “The fact that you’re sacrificing your first kiss for the production.”

“It’s embarrassing is what it is.” You rolled your eyes with a snort. 

“What?” He gasped quietly, the air still feeling ever so delicate between the two of you. “You're giving it away for Sir Ridley Scott! He’d be honored if he knew, I think.”

“He’d be confused if he knew.” You corrected him. “An actress in her early twenties who hasn’t been kissed before. I think I could apply to the Guinness book of world records.”

“Hey, come on.” He shook his head at you sympathetically. “You’re not breaking any records, trust me. There’s no deadline for this kind of thing.” He shifted closer as he spoke, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in that familiar gesture you’d come to recognize as a sign of his sincerity, “But…I could help—only if you want.”

Your heart skipped. “Help?”

He nodded. “I mean… if it makes you feel more comfortable, we could—” he paused, exhaling as if second-guessing himself. “I could be your first kiss. Just to take some of the pressure off tomorrow. It’s not a big deal. Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

The room felt impossibly quiet, save for the distant hum of the trailer’s air conditioning. You swallowed, your pulse thrumming in your ears. It wasn’t just the offer that stunned you—it was the ease in Fred’s voice, the way he treated it like something simple. Just Fred, offering to help you in whatever way he could. It was so sweet. He was always so sweet to you. But you couldn’t. Not like this

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you inevitably shook your head. “That’s really sweet of you, Fred. But I think I want my first real kiss to be with someone who actually really likes me, not a pity kiss from my scene partner. Tomorrow doesn’t count if I don’t count it. It’s fine, really. I was just in my head about it—”

Fred laughed before he could stop himself, interrupting your rambling. “You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

“What?” You asked dumbly, not expecting him to say something like that after your vulnerable confession.

“Why do you think I’m nervous about tomorrow?” He asked incredulously, another laugh escaping him. “It’s because I actually really like you, y/n!”

Oh.

It was like someone knocked the wind out of you. 

You had hoped that he liked you back, maybe even thought it might be a possibility in the back of your mind, but to hear him say those words out loud? You were speechless. It was like a dream come true. All those months of pining for him, all that yearning, was reciprocated this whole time. 

“y/n,” Fred murmured, his voice low, soothing. “Can I be your first real kiss? Please?” He parroted your words back to you once more, breathlessly. You felt the blood rush into your head.

You managed a weak nod, barely able to meet his gaze. He waited a beat, letting the moment settle before he leaned in, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His touch was featherlight, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheekbone. The intimacy of the gesture almost unraveled you.

Fred's lips brushed yours tentatively, the kiss soft and unhurried. His movements were gentle yet assured, he understood that this was new for you and he didn’t mind guiding you through it. His other hand found your waist, steadying you, and you felt yourself melting into him.

As the kiss deepened, Fred’s grip on your waist tightened subtly, anchoring you as he shifted. Without breaking contact, he eased you forward, guiding you into his lap until you straddled him, your knees on either side of his hips and your hands resting tentatively against his shoulders. His fingers flexed against your hips, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you.

Your lungs felt tight as Fred pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath fanned over your lips and his hands lingered against your waist, sending butterflies crashing into each other in your stomach. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that—long enough for the rapid beat of your heart to settle into something softer, steadier.

“Was that okay?” Fred asked softly, his voice just above a whisper.

You nodded before opening your eyes to meet his gaze. There was something tender in the way he looked at you, and it made the words on the tip of your tongue feel less terrifying.

“Can we… do it again?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and your stomach flipped as you realized how vulnerable you sounded.

Fred's lips quirked into a soft smile as his hand slid up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” he murmured, a soft laugh coloring his words as he brushed his nose against yours. “Yeah, we can do it again. As many times as you want.”

His lips found yours once more, and this time, there was no hesitation. Fred kissed you with more certainty, his hands firm as they traced the curve of your back, pulling you closer still. You could feel his quiet desire in the way he held you, the way his fingers flexed when you deepened the kiss.

You were glad that confession made its way out before you could stop it.

The next morning, you woke up with a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubbling beneath your skin. 

The day was finally here. 

The scene you’d been dreading—and quietly anticipating—was actually happening. But unlike the restless nights leading up to it, you felt more prepared. More steady.

You had filmed a few suggestive scenes with Fred before. As a syphilitic emperor, Caracalla had the propensity to be very comfortable and open in his desires. But you weren’t asked to be nude for any of those scenes, unlike this one. The complexity of not even speaking, yet being so exposed on screen was a little difficult to wrap your head around. 

This scene was supposed to depict you and Caracalla in the privacy of his lavish quarters when Joseph as Geta barges in and angrily informs his brother of Acacius and Lucilla's betrayal. You and Fred were to be undressed and only covered by sheets from the waist down. 

Clara, the intimacy coordinator, had explained that Fred would be leaned back in bed, propped up by a few pillows, while you sat in his lap. The scene would open with a close up shot of the two of you kissing gently, the camera slowly pulling back with you as you leaned back. Your lower bodies would be covered with various messy sheets, depicting the long night the characters had already had before the intrusion.

The scene was much more than physical, it was also meant to show the characters’ co-dependent nature. Even when his concubine was on him, he needed his hands to be on her, both showing his dominance and control over her as well as his reluctance to pull away.

Fred’s kiss lingered in the back of your mind like a warm ember, small but constant. While you still felt the nerves creep in when you thought about today’s shoot, there was a quiet confidence blooming alongside them.

When you arrived on set, you noticed immediately how different the atmosphere felt. The crew was smaller, the lighting dimmer—intentional choices to provide you with a layer of privacy. 

Clara was already on set, organizing the sheets and setting up the space. She glanced your way, smiling comfortingly, but she didn’t say anything. She knew of your apprehension and had been worried about you. But she noticed something new in you today. Maybe there was a shift in your energy or a slight lift in your posture, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she kept her observations to herself.

Fred was already there, standing near the bed where the scene would take place with Joseph. He smiled the second he saw you, that familiar softness in his expression grounding you more than anything else could.

“Morning,” he greeted, voice low and calm.

“Morning,” you replied, a shy tight lipped smile on your face as you stepped closer to him. Joseph greeted you but was quickly ushered away to his mark behind the door, not giving him enough time to notice the change between you and Fred. 

Clara approached you and spoke with her usual calm authority, a roll of skin-safe tape in hand. “Alright, let’s get these sheets secured,” she said, gesturing for you to adjust your robe.

But you stopped her with a small, assured smile. “I don’t think we’ll need the tape today.” Last night’s events forged a confidence deep within you. You knew your team had your back. You knew Fred had your back. 

Clara paused, blinking at you as if processing your words. Her sharp gaze flickered briefly to Fred, who stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed into his robe pockets. 

He tilted his head at your words, his brows furrowing slightly as he stepped closer. “You sure?” His voice was low, warm with concern.

You nodded, holding his gaze. “Yeah, I feel more confident now.”

Clara smirked faintly, a flicker of understanding in her expression, but she didn’t press. Fred’s gesture was subtle but telling. “Alright, just let me know if anything changes.” She said with a sense of finality before stepping away to oversee the set. 

Fred watched her retreat, then turned back to you with a concerned glint in his eye. He brushed your arm lightly to grab your attention. “You really don’t want the tape?” Fred asked again, his tone tinged with genuine care.

“Yeah,” You nodded with determination. “I can do it.”

He studied you for a beat longer, as if making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard, then smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.” 

“You helped.” You confessed in a whisper, a smile curling your lips upward.

“Yeah?” He asked in surprise, his grin only grew wider when you nodded in confirmation. “Glad I could be of service. We could sneak off and practice some more, if you’d like-”

“Fred!” You cut him off before he could say anymore, scandalised yet amused all the same. “You’re horrible!”

“And you’re cute, Lovie.” He smirked as an assistant pulled him away, cutting your conversation short. 

Another assistant pulled you forward as well, telling you to get into place so they could adjust the lighting based on your position. Fred smiled encouragingly at you from the bed he was laying in as you approached. An assistant helped you get into position, straddling Fred’s lap with your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The position wasn’t unlike how you had found yourself last night in Fred’s trailer. With a quick glance into Fred’s eyes, you knew he was thinking the same thing.

The makeup artists fluttered around you, dabbing at your skin with soft brushes, unknowingly keeping the moment from becoming too intimate. The lighting crew adjusted their angles, the soft glow from overhead casting shadows that added depth to the space.

Fred’s hands found your waist instinctively, his thumbs brushing circles against the fabric of your robe. His touch was grounding, steady, and it calmed the last bit of tension lingering in your chest.

“You okay?” he asked, low enough that only you could hear.

You met his gaze, but your eyes kept drifting lower, to his lips. The memory of yesterday was still present at the forefront of your mind, your pulse quickened at the thought of doing it again.

Fred noticed immediately, a small chuckle escaping him. “You’re adorable.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier.

“I’m just—” You flushed, embarrassed at being caught. You were unable to find the words to explain the giddy excitement stirring in you. “I guess I’m excited to start.”

Fred’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t push it, not wanting to tease you any further. “Good.” His grip on your waist tightened subtly, the weight of his hands calming you.

As the cameras rolled, Fred’s lips found yours, his kiss was steady and deliberate, his hands guiding you gently as your body pressed closer to his. You pulled away from him when you heard your cue, the camera nearest to you swooshing in the air as it moved backwards. Soon enough, you heard the loud bang of the bedroom doors bursting open. You startled in Fred’s lap, the reaction a mix of yours and Lovie’s. For a brief moment, you weren’t acting on a set. It was just the two of you before Joseph barged in. 

Fred cradled you against his chest, covering your exposed form from Geta, like the scene called for. You couldn’t hear what Joseph was saying over the loud heartbeat in your ears, but you knew what the script expected of you and when. Fred’s warm skin and chest hair brushed against your arms as you huddled close to him. It was intoxicating. 

After the first take, you gently pulled back and shifted Fred’s position. “Keep your hands here,” you instructed, placing his hands firmly on your hips in view of the camera. “To show that he’s in control.”

“Okay,” he nodded, always open to your ideas. “You should try leaning into me more,” he added, his hands guiding your hips to tilt forward. “It makes it look like he’s really keeping her there.”

You furrowed your brows as you digested his notes. “Alright. Should I put more weight into it?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded in encouragement. “Don’t hold back, I’ve got you.”

The next take felt even more intense. Fred’s hands pressed into your waist with more dominance. And you fell into him, relinquishing control, matching the energy you’d both discussed.

Between takes, he was quick to adjust the sheets, shielding you with practiced ease. Each touch lingered longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against your bare skin beneath the fabric, and every time you glanced up at him, his eyes held the same quiet intensity and kindness.

Joseph and Clara shared looks after each run through, the two of them noticing the shift in dynamic between the two of you.

“They’re different today.” Joseph whispered to Clara. 

“They’re more in sync.” Clara tilted her head as she observed the two of you. “Almost like…”

“Almost like they’ve been practicing.” Joseph smirked.

“About damn time, if you ask me.” Clara huffed, though amused all the same.

-

All these months later, and the memory was still fresh in your mind. And apparently, in someone else’s as well. “y/n?” Joseph’s voice broke the quiet hum of the green room. You were standing at the tea station, carefully deliberating over how much sugar and milk to add to your cup when he approached, his tone unusually hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” You didn’t look up, focused on swirling the tea in your cup. “As long as it’s not about my sugar-to-milk ratio, because I’ll have you know, it’s perfect.”

Joseph chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “No, it’s not that. It’s… uh…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You can totally tell me to fuck off and mind my own business if you don’t want to answer.”

“I gotta hear the question first, Joseph,” you replied with a playful smile, still not turning to face him. “But I promise I won’t be offended.”

He took a deep breath. “Was Fred your first kiss?”

Your hand froze mid-air over the sugar tin, the question catching you off guard. You finally glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s just…” Joseph shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence replaced with something softer. “What you said back there—on stage—about cherishing the memory forever. It sounded a lot like you were talking about Fred.” He looked down at the tea he was fixing, his words careful, almost shy. “And honestly, it reminded me of that day on set.”

“What day?”

“When we filmed the scene in Caracalla’s bedroom.” His eyes flicked back to yours, searching for confirmation. “You and Fred were… different that day. There was this energy between you two, like something had changed. I thought maybe you’d finally, you know, come to your senses about each other, but what you said on stage—it made me wonder.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hiding the small smile tugging at your lips. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong.” You added a splash of milk to your tea. “We did come to our senses that day.”

Joseph’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity piqued. “And… was he—you know…?”

You glanced at him, tilting your head in mock thought. “While I appreciate your sudden foray into investigative journalism,” you teased, “I think the answer to that question is classified.”

Before Joseph could reply, Paul’s voice cut through the moment. “Or…” he started, strolling toward you with an infuriating smirk. “The answer is a three-letter word.”

“Fuck off, Paul!” you shot back, your laughter bubbling up as you grabbed your cup of tea.

Joseph groaned, shaking his head at Paul. “You’re relentless.”

“And mean,” you added with a grin as you turned to head toward Fred, who had just entered the room and only caught the tail end of the conversation. He gave you an inquisitive look as he draped his arm over your shoulders.

“What are we cussing Paul out for this time?” Fred asked, his voice light and teasing. He leaned down, pretending to whisper conspiratorially, “What’d he do?”

“He’s mean,” you said with a giggle, your words laced with amusement. “Are you ready to leave?”

Fred nodded. “Yeah, the car’s waiting out back.”

“You’re leaving already?” Paul’s mock-pout followed you as you grabbed your bag.

“We’re literally seeing you guys at dinner in, what, two hours?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“And tomorrow morning,” Fred added, steering you toward the door. “Hopefully you’ll survive without us until then.”

As you walked out, Joseph’s amused voice reached you. “For the record, I’m still rooting for that classified answer.”

Fred glanced down at you, his brow raised. “What’s he talking about?”

“It’s nothing,” you said, stifling a laugh. “They’re just being nosy.”

Fred didn’t push, his signature crooked grin tugging at his lips as he leaned closer, his voice warm against your ear. “Well, whatever it is, I’m on your side.”

As always, you thought, smiling softly to yourself.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Fred’s arm still draped over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but glance up at him. The way he fit so effortlessly into your life—his steady presence, his quiet reassurances—made you wonder how you ever doubted his feelings for you. Looking back now, it seemed almost ridiculous. Every glance, every touch, every word had been there all along, waiting for you to notice.

“Ready?” he asked softly, opening the car door for you and offering you a hand.

You nodded, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at his antics. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

How could you not be, when everything he did made it so easy to fall for him?

[sesamenom]

arwen's goth phase, aka the most stressful decade of sauron's life

with the full mask & veil without the white makeup

[finelinefae]

friends [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: bambi meets harry's best friends.

word count: 8.8k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), drunk harry, shy reader, boyfriend!h

this is part 3 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Y/N was slowly but surely finding her rhythm at Pleasing. Thanks to Harry’s advice on making the most of each day (advice he apparently wrote a book about—though when Lindsey mentioned it, Harry had quickly shushed her and changed the subject), she had developed a solid morning and evening routine.

Her workdays at Pleasing fell on the busiest days of Harry’s schedule, which meant she was there three times a week. Those mornings began promptly at 7 a.m., with her clothes already laid out from the night before. After waking, she’d prepare breakfast for herself and her brothers, speaking to Harry on the phone as they went about their respective routines in separate homes. Once breakfast was done, she’d brush her teeth, do her makeup, and style her hair. By the time the school bus arrived to whisk her brothers away, her car would be rounding the corner to take her into the city.

Despite her hectic schedule, Y/N was managing to juggle her studies—though she couldn’t ignore that they were beginning to take a backseat. Lately, she’d found herself questioning whether she even wanted to continue her course. But with life moving at such a whirlwind pace, the thought of making a definitive decision felt overwhelming. For now, it was easier to just focus on the day-to-day.

To her surprise, Y/N was actually enjoying her job—something she’d never expected. She’d never been a fan of “adulting”; being forced to grow up quickly didn’t mean she had to like it. Paying bills, going to work, and worrying about the future had always felt like too much. But having a steady job offered her a rare sense of stability—one she appreciated more than she wanted to admit. It kept food on the table, gave her some consistency, and most importantly, brought her closer to Harry.

Keeping their relationship a secret, however, was proving to be a challenge. Surprisingly, Y/N was the more professional of the two, maintaining her composure in the workplace. She kept her hands to herself and avoided lingering glances, even when they were in the same room. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as disciplined. He had a knack for initiating little interactions that straddled the line of propriety—always claiming they were “accidents.”

Like the time he held her hand just a second too long. Or the time he “accidentally” kissed her in the elevator right as the doors were opening. Then there was the incident during a meeting when, as she served tea, he tugged on the hem of her dress—apparently needing a refill.

Y/N couldn’t help but adore how infatuated he was, but she was determined to keep things professional. The last thing she wanted was for her coworkers to think she had an unfair advantage because of her relationship. Still, Harry’s innocent looks and playfulness made it hard to stay mad at him for long.

“I need to ask you something,” Harry said from his desk. 

It was Wednesday evening and everyone had gone home. Harry had needed to catch up on some work so Y/N stayed behind after some convincing with the proposition he would drop her home afterwards. Y/N was sitting on the chair opposite, her notebook open and laptop screen. Her laptop was on its last legs, taking forever to load and lagging every five seconds but she could never afford a new one and having one was better than nothing. 

“What’s wrong?” She looked up, wearing her glasses and face framed by wispy bits of loose hair that had escaped her messy bun. 

Harry’s face brightened when she looked up at him. “C’mere, Bambi. Too far away.” He pushed himself away from his desk and gestured to his lap. 

Y/N smiled and walked around the desk to sit in his lap. She straddled herself across his lap and wrapped both her arms around his neck, “Y’ smell good,” He murmurs, smelling her gingerbread cookie perfume even though it was Autumn, she was already excited for her favourite day of the year. 

“What did you want to ask?” She pouted. 

As if remembering he bought her over for a purpose, he continued, “This weekend, y’know you’re coming to stay the night?”

How could she forget? It was all she had been thinking about since he asked her. She had even bought brand new pyjamas with the remaining paycheck from her old job because her usual ones were worn and not as pretty. She had never been to a sleepover before let alone one with a man. She was’t sure what to expect but had seen movies where girls would sleepover and they’d paint each others nails and eat ice cream. She knew that wouldn’t be the case with Harry but she had made a list of other things they could do together that he’d enjoy too. 

“I know,” Y/N nodded, brows furrowed as she waited for him to continue. Part of her couldn’t help but worry. Did he not want her to sleep over anymore?

"Some of my friends are having a dinner get together type thing," Harry said, his tone casual but hopeful. "I haven’t said I’ll go yet because I knew you were coming over, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to come with me?"

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "To the dinner party? With you?"

Harry smiled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Yeah, with me. Who else?"

She blinked, processing his words. "I’d be meeting your friends?" she asked cautiously. "Are you sure about that?"

"Why wouldn’t I be sure?" he replied, his brow lifting slightly.

"I don’t know, I just..." she trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to explain the nervous flutter in her chest.

"Ah, there y’go, Bambi," Harry smirked, leaning in just enough to make her cheeks burn. "Getting all flustered."

"I’m not flustered!" she protested, though the warmth in her face betrayed her.

Harry chuckled, his gaze warm and steady as it met hers. "It makes me happy, you know—thinking about introducing you to my friends. They were excited when I mentioned you."

"They were?" Y/N asked, her brows lifting in surprise.

"Mhm," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "They know it’s rare for me to bring someone I’m dating into the mix this early on." He leaned in, nuzzling against her neck and pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "So, will you come? We can head back to mine after."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay... but I don’t know if I have anything to wear."

Harry smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Y’know I can sort that," he teased.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she bit back a shy smile as his confidence and charm worked their usual magic. 

. . .

Y/N glanced down at her suitcase, biting her lip. Did I overpack for one night? Probably. She always did.

Growing up, money had been tight, but once Y/N started earning her own at sixteen, she’d developed a habit of indulging herself. Not extravagantly—there were no designer handbags or flashy purchases—but enough to feel like she was treating herself after the grind of a day. Skincare, makeup, clothes—her modest earnings often vanished in the blink of an eye.

Fashion was her weakness. Her clothing rack groaned under the weight of her ever-expanding wardrobe, frequently collapsing as if protesting her relentless shopping habit. Packing for this overnight stay at Harry’s had been no exception. She’d started with a backpack, then upgraded to a duffle bag, only to realize that wouldn’t fit everything she might need. Now, her suitcase sat by the stairs, practically mocking her indecision.

“Whoa.” Sammy’s voice broke her thoughts as he sauntered into her room, a chocolate bar in hand. “Are you moving in?”

“No,” Y/N huffed, hands on her hips. “I just want to be prepared.”

Sammy raised an eyebrow. “You know, he could just stay here instead.”

Y/N stilled. The boy’s first night without her had everyone feeling uneasy, and she knew Sammy wasn’t looking forward to it. His gaze was guarded, but she could see the vulnerability underneath.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured, stepping closer. “It’s just one night. If you really hate it, we’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. “There’s going to be a day when you move out. And leave me. With Mom. Or... without her.”

The words hit harder than he intended. Y/N swallowed the lump forming in her throat, reaching out to him. She saw the sadness etched in his eyes, a reflection of her own fears. “Wherever I go, you go,” she whispered firmly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Sammy leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. Y/N held him close, closing her eyes for a moment before pulling away.

The sound of a knock at the front door jolted her. She glanced at the clock, muttering a quick, “That’s Harry,” as she rushed downstairs. She wanted to intercept him before Archie could get started—her little brother’s chatter had a way of turning quick visits into extended stays.

Yanking the door open, she froze. Harry stood there, a beaming smile lighting up his face despite the chill in the air. He wore a puffer jacket and shorts, his casual confidence making her heart skip.

“Hi, Harry,” she greeted, cheeks tinged pink, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or his presence. Without thinking, she leapt into his arms, her sock-clad feet barely touching the doorstep.

“Hi, Bambi,” he chuckled, steadying her as his arms closed around her. “Y’ready to go?”

“Mhm.” She pulled back, slipping on her shoes. “Let me say goodbye to the boys.”

Harry’s gaze shifted behind her, landing on the suitcase by the stairs. A laugh bubbled from him. “Are you planning on moving in?”

Y/N furrowed her brows, following his line of sight. When realization dawned, she flushed. “Oh, that. I, uh... didn’t know what I’d need.”

His grin softened as he stepped closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “S’alright, Bambi,” he murmured. “M’just excited to have you over.”

She smiled, her heart swelling as he leaned in for another kiss. Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed her suitcase and carried it effortlessly to the car.

After she had bid goodbye to her brother’s and promised them some much needed one on one time with them once she came back from Harry’s house, Y/N took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the next twenty four hours. 

. . .

In the car to Harry’s apartment, Y/N sat in the passenger seat with one hand intertwined with Harry’s whilst he drove with his other. The radio played through the car speakers, avoiding complete silence on the journey. The dulcit tones of Marvin Gaye playing throughout. 

“Y’ hands are freezing,” Harry said. Y/N instinctively tried to pull away as though her hand being cold was a bad thing but Harry clung tighter, raising both their hands and kissing her knuckles before blowing his warm breath over her hand. “Do you need me to up the heater?”

Y/N shook her head, “No it’s okay, my hands get cold when I’m nervous.” She confessed. 

Harry frowned, “Nervous? Are you okay?”

Y/N cringed, “M a little worried about meeting your friends. What if they don’t like me?” 

Harry gave her a comforting smile, “Bambi, they’re so excited to meet you. You have nothing to worry about. They’ve met other girls I’ve dated and trust me when I say you’re a walking angel in comparison to them.” 

“H-Have you dated a lot of other girls?” Y/N felt awkward bringing it up but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Harry had only mentioned briefly of the other women he had dated. Of course he had dated other women, he was a successful, handsome millionaire with a fashion company. It would be pointless trying to deny it. 

Harry thought for a moment like he was trying to think carefully about his response, “I’ll be honest, I used to date a lot of women when I first started making money. I wasn’t very good when I started getting attention from the press. I drank a lot and spent money on buying out nightclubs and bars for the night.” 

Y/N was shocked. She tried to picture her Harry being the version of himself he spoke about. “But my company was no where near as successful as it is now so even though I was spending a lot, I was losing a lot too. I nearly went bankrupt at one point which really gave me a kick up the ass. My sister, she’s an accountant back home in England, she came to visit and helped me get my act together.” 

“Oh wow,” Y/N didn’t really know what else to say. She couldn’t seem to envision her sweet, soft and wholesome Harry being a party animal and spening nights in bars for days on end. 

“Did that put you off?” Y/N immediately shook her head. 

“Of course not, we’ve all got things we’re not proud of.” Y/N replied. 

Harry smiled, “What about you? Any psycho ex-boyfriends I need to worry about?”

Y/N laughed, “No lucky for you, I don’t think a single guy has ever taken interest in me.” 

“I highly doubt that Bambi but you’re right, I am very lucky.” Harry flashed a cheeky grin, turning the wheel around the corner and stopped outside the tallest building she had ever seen that looked as though it was completely made of glass. 

Y/N’s was unable to say anything when her eyes gazed up at the towering stack of apartments. “You live in this building?” Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off, her neck permanently craned to look up. She was pretty sure the hjgihest point of the building resided in the clouds. 

Harry said nothing, parking his car in the private parking spot. He went to the back to grab her suitcase, Y/N stepping out of the car and walking around to meet him. 

“C’mon Bambi,” Harry chuckled at her awe-struck expression. 

They walked hand in hand through the lobby which looked as glamorous as you’d expect. Harry gave a nod to the security at the door as they went past and headed towards the elevator. Y/N’s eyes widened when his finger pressed the button for the top floor. 

The doors to the elevator opened and Y/N thought she might actually pass out. 

She stepped into Harry’s penthouse, her breath catching as her gaze swept over the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, all the people and cars down below looked like ants. The open layout was both elegant and inviting, with warm ambient lighting casting a golden glow over the neutral-toned furniture and rich wooden floors.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step further inside. The plush cream sofa, the sleek coffee table stacked with books, and the faint scent of vanilla in the air all felt so Harry—effortlessly stylish and welcoming.

Harry chuckled behind her, setting her suitcase by the door. “You like it?”

“Like it?” she breathed, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Harry, this is... incredible.”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “M’glad you think so. Wanted it to feel comfy, y’know? Somewhere I could actually relax.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes drifting back to the view. “Sometimes I forget how rich you are.”

Harry chuckles from behind her, “I’m actually very glad to hear that.”

She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands gently against the glass as she looked out at the city sprawling beneath them. For a moment, it felt like they were floating above it all, separate from the noise and chaos of the world below.

Harry joined her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “S’better with you here,” he murmured, his voice soft.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she leant into him. Harry kissed her shoulder, turning her round to face him. He smiled when her eyes met his, “We have some time before we need to get ready, do you want to go unpack?”

“Oh of course, am I sleeping on the couch?” Harry furrowed his brows before bursting out laughing, water almost fell from his eyes. Y/N frowned, confused at his reaction. 

“You don’t want to sleep in my room Bambi? With me?” Y/N’s cheek scorched red but Harry just continued to laugh, “I mean I’m happy to sleep on the couch and let you sleep in my room if that’s what would make you comfortable.”

“No, it’s okay! I was just messing around,” She was all flustered. The idea of sleeping in Harry’s bed with him hadn’t crossed her mind like it maybe should have. 

“Are you sure? Y’ know I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.” Y/N’s shoulders sunk at his sincere concern, she stood on her toes and kissed his lips. This time it was his turn to be surprised since it was rare for her to be the first to initiate a kiss between them. 

“I know,” She smiled, “I want to sleep in your room… with you.” 

Harry smiled, “Good. Let me give you a tour first.” 

Harry led Y/N back toward the kitchen, still holding her hand as they strolled through the open-concept living area. “First stop: the kitchen,” he said, motioning grandly as they stepped into the sleek, modern space.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in the marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and a large island that looked like it had been plucked from a home design magazine. A trio of pendant lights hung above, casting a warm glow over the pristine surfaces.

“Wow,” she breathed, running her fingers along the smooth countertop. “This is amazing. Do you even use it?”

Harry grinned, leaning casually against the island. “I use it for takeout. Does that count?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know how anyone could resist cooking in here.”

“I can resist pretty easily, love,” he said with a smirk. “But if you ever fancy cooking together, I’m happy to assist. I’m great at stirring things and, uh… taste-testing.”

“Of course you are, no wonder you own a restaurant.” Y/N teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Harry chuckled, then nodded toward a door off to the side. “Alright, next stop: my office.”

He guided her through the door and into a smaller, cosier room that contrasted with the open, airy feel of the rest of the penthouse. The office was lined with dark wood shelves filled with books, a few framed photos, and scattered trinkets. A large desk sat in front of another set of floor-to-ceiling windows, the view just as stunning as the one in the living room.

“This is where I get most of my work done,” he said, walking over to the desk and leaning on it. “Or where I try to, anyway. Sometimes I just sit here and stare out at the city.”

Y/N wandered over to the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of the books. “It’s so… you,” she said softly, glancing at the little details—a framed photo of him with his family, a guitar pick sitting on a stack of papers, and a candle that smelled faintly of cedar.

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean messy?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I mean it’s thoughtful. Personal.”

Harry’s smile softened, and he reached out to take her hand again. “Alright, enough of the boring office. Time to show you the best room in the house.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he led her back down the hallway to his bedroom. When he pushed open the door, her breath hitched.

The bedroom was even more stunning than she’d imagined. The centerpiece was a massive bed with crisp white linens that looked impossibly soft, surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture. The far wall was made entirely of glass, offering an unobstructed view of the glittering city below. Heavy curtains were drawn to the sides, framing the view like a painting.

Harry watched her take it all in, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So? What do you think?”

“It’s… incredible,” Y/N whispered, stepping into the room. She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands against the glass as she gazed out at the city. “I don’t think I’d ever sleep. I’d just stay up staring at this view.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Harry said, coming up behind her and resting his hands gently on her shoulders, “the bed is comfortable enough to make you forget about the view.”

She turned to look at him, her cheeks warming. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Harry grinned, his dimples on full display. “Challenge accepted, Bambi.”

He took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting down beside her. The mattress really did feel like a cloud as she sank into it.

“I was serious earlier,” Harry said, his tone softer now. “You can sleep wherever you want—the bed, the couch, the office chair if you’re feeling adventurous. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at his thoughtfulness. “I already told you, Harry. I want to sleep here. With you.”

His eyes lit up at her words, and he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that too.”

Harry stood up, “I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ve just go to make a few calls but there’s an ensuite bathroom you can use to freshen up.”

After Harry brought her suitcase to the bedroom, he left her to unpack. Y/N unzipped it and pulled out her washbag, heading into the ensuite bathroom.

The bathroom was stunning—a walk-in shower with dark tiles and jets built into the walls. She stepped to the sink, admiring the clean lines of the vanity, and placed her washbag carefully on the counter. She couldn’t help but smile when she noticed all of Harry’s skincare neatly organized in a cute little spinning container—it was such a contrast to her own chaotic setup. But then her eyes landed on the glass by the sink, where his toothbrush rested.

Beside it was a pink toothbrush.

Her heart softened at the sight, a warm flutter spreading through her chest. There was something about that simple detail that made her feel all warm and gooey inside. She’d never believed she would find someone she’d want to spend so much time with but here she was staying the night with Harry and about to meet his friends. 

Y/N walked into the living room, where Harry was already sitting on the couch with his laptop perched on her lap. He smiled when he saw her, and then his gaze fell to the object she was holding. “Is that Monopoly?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah, it’s the original version. I asked my brothers if I could bring it with me since we've had this set forever, and they would absolutely murder me if I lost any pieces. We have to be able to play it at Christmas."

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked in amusement. “Hmm, may I ask why you decided to bring Monopoly with you today?”

Y/N paused, clearly puzzled. “Isn’t that what people do at sleepovers? Play games?”

Harry’s grin spread wider. As she stepped closer, he reached out, pulling her toward him. She ended up collapsing onto his chest with a soft laugh.

“Oh, Bambi,” he murmured, showering her face with quick kisses. His lips tickled her skin, making her giggle uncontrollably. “You’re the most precious girl I’ve ever known, you know that?”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Does that mean you want to play?”

Harry gave a dramatic sigh, still grinning. “Of course! Are you kidding me? I love this game.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice playful. “Well, be prepared. I’m not one to brag, but I’m pretty good at it.”

His eyes lit up with challenge. “Oh, Bambi’s competitive, I see.”

A spark flickered in her eyes as she leaned in slightly, “Just a little.”

. . .

Harry loved discovering the many layers of his Bambi. To the outside world, she was shy and quiet, but to him, she was a multi-faceted woman, full of surprises he was peeling back one by one. Yet this afternoon might have revealed his favorite side of her yet.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement and mischief as she declared her victory in Monopoly—long before the game had officially ended. Harry had debated whether to let her win, as any gentleman might, but it turned out he didn’t need to. She was fiercely competitive and had wiped the floor with him in just thirty minutes.

If time had allowed, Harry would’ve played another round or concocted a new game just to watch her face light up with that same playful energy. The afternoon spent with her, laughing over a simple board game, had him envisioning Christmas mornings and holiday traditions for years to come. It was silly, perhaps, to think so far ahead so early in their relationship, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t picture a future without Bambi in it.

Still, as the game wrapped up, he could see her nerves creep back in. The mention of preparing to meet his friends made her retreat into herself, her earlier exuberance melting into quiet apprehension. Despite his reassurances, Harry knew she’d wrestle with her anxiety until the dinner was behind them.

His friends, on the other hand, were eager to meet her. Their group chat had been buzzing with excitement about “the girl who finally tied him down.” Since Harry’s family was back in England, his friends were the closest thing he had to family in LA, making their opinions matter. But he had no doubt they’d love her.

In the living room, Harry waited for Y/N to finish getting ready, dressed in his tailored dark suit with a relaxed fit. The loose white tank underneath, with its wide scoop neckline, subtly revealed his tattoos, and the Pleasing logo stitched at the hem added a personal touch. Cream-colored loafers and white socks completed the look, his short curls neatly styled to keep them from obscuring his face.

The click of the bedroom door snapped him from his thoughts. He rose from the sofa, as alert as a puppy hearing its owner return. When Y/N stepped out, the oxygen seemed to leave the room entirely.

Her dress was light pink, soft and flowing, with thin spaghetti straps and a V-shaped neckline that showcased her décolletage. The slightly sheer fabric hinted at her elegant curves, while the asymmetrical hemline added a whimsical touch. Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, and her makeup was pink-toned and dewy, enhancing her natural glow. She paired the dress with strappy silver heels and a small, dainty bag dangling from her shoulder.

Her hand clung to her opposite arm, feeling vulnerable as she stood before him. Harry felt his breath hitch, his lips parting as he tried to absorb how breathtaking she looked.

“Bambi…” he managed, his voice low and reverent.

Her cheeks flushed. “Is it too much?” she asked softly.

Harry stepped closer, taking her hands in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You look beautiful. I don’t even have the words to tell you how incredible you are.”

She ducked her head, shy like the deer he affectionately nicknamed her after. “Thank you. You look very handsome, too,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world.

“Do you like my dress?” she asked, her voice tentative.

Harry’s hands slid to her waist, feeling the soft fabric and the gentle curve of her silhouette. “I love it.”

“I made it,” she admitted, her blush deepening.

His brows lifted in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded, and Harry was awestruck. He’d seen her sketches before—ones she had reluctantly shared after he begged—but seeing her creations come to life was something else entirely.

Harry glanced at his watch, sighing reluctantly. “We should probably get going, but first…” He pulled out his phone, aiming it at the two of them. Y/N laughed, trying to push the camera away, but eventually relented, leaning in to kiss his cheek just as he snapped the photo. His grin widened, his eyes crinkling with joy.

Taking her hand, he asked, “Do you need a jacket?” His gaze flicked to her bare arms.

“I’ll be okay, as long as the bar has heating,” she replied with a small laugh.

Harry chuckled but grabbed a jacket on their way out anyway. He knew her well enough to anticipate the moment she’d get cold but wouldn’t say a word about it.

The drive to the bar felt like it took forever, thanks to the heavy city traffic. Harry’s hand remained warm on her thigh, and she wrapped her arm around his, seeking comfort from his touch. She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to stop.

“A little,” she confessed, glancing over at him. “I just want them to like me. I’ve never had to introduce myself to anyone’s friends before... I don’t want to mess up.”

“You’ll be fine, Bambi,” Harry reassured her, his voice calm as always. He’d said it so many times already, and she knew he’d say it dozens more if she needed to hear it. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to be.”

Y/N wouldn’t say it out loud, but the age difference between her and Harry’s friends had been weighing on her mind all evening. The nine-year gap between her and Harry had never been an issue for them—it felt inconsequential when they were together. But his friends might see it differently.

What if they thought she was too young, too inexperienced, too… immature for someone like him? Worse, what if they assumed she was with him for his success, for the money he worked so hard to earn? The mere thought made her stomach twist. She didn’t want to be judged on circumstances she couldn’t change or assumptions she couldn’t dispel.

Harry’s friends meant a lot to him, and their approval—or lack of it—would sting far more than she cared to admit.

She nodded anyway, letting out a slow breath and turning her gaze to the window. The city lights blurred outside, their glow reflecting in her eyes. Even though his words helped calm her, she still couldn’t shake the nerves.

When they pulled up to the bar, the fancy building loomed in front of them. A valet was already waiting, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Harry always seemed to have the luxury treatment everywhere they went. It was a reminder of how different her world was from his, but she tried not to dwell on it.

As Harry stepped out of the car, Y/N noticed the photographers waiting outside. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still made her stomach tighten. Harry wasn’t a mega-celebrity, but he was well-known enough in the business world that the occasional paparazzi was inevitable.

Harry opened the door for her, his hand gently resting on her hip as he helped her out. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head, and it felt like both a reassurance for her and a subtle message to the photographers.

The bar was dimly lit and sophisticated with shiny tables and chairs with red upholstery. Live jazz music played as people chatted over glasses of wine that probably cost more than Y/N’s monthly wages had to offer. “Do you own this bar?” Y/N asked, clinging a little bit tighter to Harry’s hand. 

Harry chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Not this one,” he said, guiding Y/N toward a booth at the back of the bar. As they approached, the laughter of a group already seated at the table reached her ears. The sound was warm, familiar, like a group of people who had known each other for years.

A man with long brunette hair had his arm around a woman with similar dark hair that cascaded in waves down her shoulders. The two of them were laughing, their faces lit up in shared joy, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as they neared the group.

Before she could even take a deep breath, one of the men spotted them walking over. He had a rugged beard, and he stood up with a grin, his drink in hand.

“Harry!” he called out, extending his hand.

Harry gave him a knowing grin and shook his hand firmly, his other arm still wrapped around Y/N. “Mate,” he greeted warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.

Y/N watched the exchange, trying to hide the anxious flutter in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew this was an important moment for her. She hadn’t met many of Harry’s close friends yet, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be a defining moment—how they reacted to her, how she’d fit in with this group that meant so much to him.

The man with the beard turned to Y/N, his eyes flickering with curiosity, and then he offered her a smile. “You must be Y/N,” he said, his tone warm and welcoming. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

Y/N smiled, a little relieved at the friendly tone in his voice. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, her nerves still there but starting to ease. “I’ve heard so much about you guys.”

Harry stood beside her, his hand still resting at the small of her back, offering her silent support as she navigated this new territory. 

The man with the beard grinned as he stepped back, giving Y/N a moment to breathe. "This is Mitch," Harry said, gesturing to the man with long brunette hair who was seated next to a woman with equally dark hair. Mitch gave her a warm, easy smile, his arm casually wrapped around Sarah’s shoulders.

"It’s great to meet you, Y/N," Mitch said, his voice easy and friendly. "Harry’s told us all about you."

Y/N’s nerves eased a little more as Mitch’s friendly demeanor helped her feel at home. "I hope it’s all good things," she said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

"Oh, definitely," Mitch replied, nudging Harry with his elbow and giving him a teasing grin. 

Sarah, Mitch’s girlfriend, stood up from the booth with a bright smile, her waves of dark hair catching the light. She reached out to shake Y/N’s hand, her voice warm and welcoming. “Hi! I’m Sarah. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, but Sarah’s friendly tone immediately put her at ease. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied with a smile, trying to match Sarah’s warmth. "Harry's mentioned you guys a lot."

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah teased, winking as she sat back down beside Mitch.

Before Y/N could respond, a deep voice from the other side of the booth spoke up. “You must be Y/N,” a man with a thick beard said, “I’m Jamie.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Y/N smiled.

Jamie gave her a smile that seemed to take up half his face, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Harry’s been keeping us in the loop." He offered her a firm handshake, his grip warm. “It’s about time we met the girl who finally has him whipped.”

Finally, a woman sitting across from Jamie stood up, her presence immediately commanding attention. Alessia was striking—her short hair framed her face with confidence, and her posture was strong. She offered Y/N a small, warm smile. "I’m Alessia," she said, extending a hand. "It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Harry."

"Nice to meet you too," Y/N said, shaking her hand with a smile. There was something calming about Alessia’s assuredness that made Y/N feel at ease, even though she was a little more reserved than the others.

As Alessia returned to her seat, Harry’s hand still rested on Y/N’s back, a silent comfort in the midst of the introductions, as they sat in the booth next to Sarah and Mitch. His friends were exactly as he’d described—kind, welcoming, and playful. They were a perfect match for Harry and that bought a sense of relief to her. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Harry murmured to Y/N, his hand gently brushing against hers as he leaned in.

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She had never really drunk alcohol before—not because she didn’t want to, but simply because she never really went out drinking. Whenever she was out with her brothers, she always stuck to something safe like Coke or Sprite. She felt a little embarrassed to admit that she wasn’t sure what to order.

“Um…” She fumbled for words, feeling self-conscious. "I...I don't really know what to drink."

Harry’s smile softened, as if he understood right away. “Would you like me to pick something for you?”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. He wasn’t making her feel stupid. "Yes, please," she said gratefully, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

With a nod, Harry turned and motioned for the guys to follow him toward the bar. As they walked off, Y/N felt her nerves kick in again. She was left standing with Sarah and Alessia, the two women who already seemed so at ease with each other and the group.

Y/N suddenly felt a little out of her element. She wasn’t used to hanging out with other women in this kind of setting. With her brothers, everything was easy and casual, but this... this felt different. She was afraid that her awkwardness would be obvious, so she searched for something to say, anything to break the silence.

It didn’t take long for Sarah to sense her discomfort. She leaned forward with a welcoming smile. “Where’s your dress from? It’s gorgeous,” she asked, her voice light and friendly.

Y/N's face softened at the compliment, and she felt more at ease. “Oh, um, I actually made it,” she said, a little shy but proud. "I love fashion, so I’ve been sketching designs for a while."

Sarah’s eyes widened, impressed. “Wait, you made it? That’s amazing!” She looked at Y/N with genuine admiration. “It looks beautiful on you. I honestly thought it was something you bought from a high-end store.”

Y/N laughed softly, feeling a bit shy but happy with the compliment. “Thanks, that means a lot. I’ve kept a lot of my sketches in an old notebook, but I’ve always wanted to show them to someone.”

“I would love to see them sometime,” Sarah said enthusiastically. “I’m obsessed with fashion too. Maybe we can swap ideas sometime.”

Alessia, who had been listening with a smile, chimed in. “You’re really talented. I’m sure Harry’s lucky to have someone so creative around especially with his company.” 

“Do you guys work in fashion too?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious about the two women she’d just met.

“Just Harry, I’m afraid,” Sarah replied with a playful smile. “We all went to art school, though. Mitch and I own an art gallery together, and Jamie runs a theatre company.”

“And I design album art for artists,” Alessia added, her voice warm and casual.

Y/N’s eyes widened in genuine awe. “Wow. That’s so impressive. Is that how you all met? Through art school?”

“Yep, we were kind of the outcasts of our year group,” Sarah said with a chuckle, “so we stuck together. And look where we are now.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the closeness between the group. “That’s so cool. And... were you and Mitch together back then?”

“Oh no,” Alessia laughed, shaking her head. “Sarah and Mitch didn’t get together until after art school. It was excruciating to witness—those two pining over each other for four years and never doing anything about it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Alessia’s blunt description. “That sounds like a movie.”

“It kind of was,” Sarah said, laughing with her. “But it worked out in the end.”

“I bet Harry told you about us,” Alessia continued, leaning in a bit. “He told us he was bringing you tonight, and we were all nervous, actually.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, surprised. “Really? I was nervous too.”

“Are you kidding? After Harry’s last ‘girlfriend,’” Sarah said with a playful eye-roll, “we thought we’d be meeting some bitchy gold-digger who’d be all over him, trying to separate him from us. But then we met you, and it was like, thank God—you’re nothing like that. Honestly, we’re so relieved.”

“Harry talks about you non-stop,” Alessia added with a teasing grin. “For the last month and a half, it’s been ‘Y/N this, Y/N that,’ in our group chat. It’s kind of sweet, honestly.”

“Really?” Y/N blinked, her face softening with surprise.

Sarah smiled warmly. “Yeah, don’t worry, it’s nice to hear. He deserves someone who treats him right, you know? Especially after everything he’s done for all of us.”

Alessia nodded, her expression turning a little more serious. “He got me out of some serious debt. I was on the brink of losing everything, close to being homeless... but Harry stepped in. He rented me a place, helped me get back on my feet, and even called in a favor that landed me my first real job. He’s the most caring person I know.”

Y/N’s heart warmed at Alessia’s words. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard someone speak so highly of Harry, but it never failed to move her. Hearing it from his friends, people who had seen him at his best and worst, made her realise just how deeply Harry cared about the people in his life—and just how lucky she was to be part of it. 

Soon Harry returned with the boys, sliding into the seat next to her. He placed a drink in front of her, “I got you an Aperol Spritz but if you don’t like it I can get you something else.” He told her. 

“Thank you,” She beamed up at him and took a sip of her drink. It was light and bubbly with a slight bitter yet citrusy taste. The more she drank, the more she enjoyed the taste of it.  

Harry continued conversing with his friends, and Y/N found herself enjoying the easy banter between them. It was nice to see this side of him—relaxed, almost boyish, and playful. The way his friends teased each other with such familiarity made her smile, and it felt like she was catching a glimpse of Harry’s world before she’d come into it.

She liked his friends. All of them were warm and welcoming, each with their own distinct personalities, but there was a genuine closeness that she could see. They kept her in the loop, filling in the gaps on things she might not have fully understood—like an inside joke or a shared memory—until she felt like she was beginning to grasp the dynamics between them.

Sarah and Alessia were especially attentive, constantly asking her questions and trying to learn everything about her. Y/N appreciated their curiosity and kindness. They didn’t make her feel like an outsider, instead showing genuine interest in her life and her background. 

Every so often, Y/N would catch Harry looking down at her. He’d check in on her, his gaze soft, making sure she was okay and not feeling overwhelmed. His protective instincts were clear, and she was grateful for it. He didn’t hover, but whenever he could, he’d quietly reassure her with a small smile or a squeeze of her hand under the table.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Y/N felt like she wasn’t just another guest at the table—she was part of the conversation, part of the group. And it was easy to relax into that sense of belonging as the night wore on. Even though she was still a little out of her comfort zone, she couldn’t help but feel more at ease with every passing minute, especially with Harry so nearby.

She laughed at something Sarah had said, a light, genuine sound that felt more natural than she expected. The whole night had been surprisingly fun, and for once, she was enjoying being part of something so lively, instead of shrinking back.  

“So Y/N, what’s Harry like as a boyfriend?” Jamie asked, causing Y/N to freeze in her seat.

Harry’s hand stilled from where it had been drawing invisible circles on her knee. The table seemed to pause, sensing the awkwardness in the air.

“That bad?” Jamie chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.

Y/N’s mind scrambled for the right words. She wasn’t sure how to describe their relationship—things were still new, and they had never really put a label on it beyond "dating." Her mouth felt dry as she fumbled for a response.

“U-um, we’re not— I don’t think—” Y/N stumbled, her face flushing. She didn’t know how to put it into words, not wanting to make things awkward or overthink it.

Before she could continue, Sarah quickly chimed in with a grin, “A better boyfriend than you.”

The entire table burst out laughing, and the tension in the air seemed to lift immediately. Jamie threw his hands up in mock defeat, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take the loss. But I’m definitely curious now,” he said, leaning forward. “What makes Harry such a great boyfriend, then?”

Y/N glanced at Harry, meeting his eyes, which were filled with amusement but also a warmth that made her heart skip. "Yeah, Bambi, what am I like as a boyfriend?"

Her lips parted at the question. It was the first time he had referred to their relationship so openly, and the realisation hit her in a way that made her smile nervously.

“Well,” Y/N began, her voice softening as she relaxed, “he’s incredibly thoughtful. He’s always checking in on me, making sure I’m alright, and—he actually listens. He’s not the kind of guy who brushes off what I say or rushes through things. He’s really present.”

Harry’s hand slid over to hers under the table, his fingers intertwining with hers in a quiet show of support. He squeezed her hand gently, his gaze tender, saying everything without needing words.

“And he’s fun,” Y/N added with a light laugh, her nervousness easing. “He doesn’t take himself too seriously, which is honestly one of my favorite things about him.”

Harry’s smile deepened at her words, and there was something in the way he looked at her—like he was asking her a question without saying it aloud. “I love it… Being his girlfriend.” Y/N blushed but Harry’s face widened into a grin, one of his dimples appearing on his cheek. 

The group exchanged knowing glances, clearly enjoying the moment. Alessia raised her glass, her eyes twinkling.

“To Y/N, we wish you all the luck in the world for having to put up with us.” she said, toasting her with a wink.

Everyone joined in, lifting their glasses, and Y/N felt her heart swell at the way Harry’s friends rallied around them. 

. . .

Y/N hadn’t noticed how much Harry had had to drink until his head rested on her shoulder, in the middle of her conversing some more with Sarah and Alessia,  “Think I want to go home Bambi,” He murmured. Y/N pushed his droopy curls back and saw the hazy look in his eye, a lazy smile on his lip, “So pretty,” His lips puckered as he spoke. 

Y/N giggled, “How are we meant to get home silly, you drove us here.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry huffed, “I did didn’t I?”

Sarah chuckled, “We can drop you guys home on the way back to our place. We’ll just tell the valet to keep hold of his car. He can pick it up tomorrow as punishment.” 

Y/N laughed softly, nodding her thanks to Sarah. "That sounds like a good plan," she said, looking down at Harry, whose cheek was now squished adorably against her shoulder. He was humming a tune she couldn’t quite place, the sound low and soothing despite his obvious tipsiness.

Harry’s hand found hers under the table, his fingers clumsily lacing through hers. “Y’ make me the happiest Bambi. ‘M so happy y’ m’ girlfriend.” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred but unmistakably earnest.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart skipping a beat. “That’s a lot of happy,”

“It is isn’t it?” Harry laughs. 

Sarah stood up, grabbing her bag. “Alright, let’s get you two lovebirds home.”

Y/N helped him to his feet. He wobbled slightly, leaning heavily against her. “You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” he said as they made their way to the exit, his voice loud enough to draw a few amused glances from nearby tables.

“I think I’m starting to get the idea,” Y/N replied, her tone affectionate as she wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“I’m hungry,” he announced loudly. “Can we get chips? Or pizza?”

“Let’s get you home first, superstar,” Mitch said, clapping him on the back and making Harry stumble slightly into Y/N.

“You’re my hero,” Harry murmured dramatically as they shuffled toward the car, his arm draped over her shoulder. “You saved me, Bambi. You’re the best.”

“You’re going to think otherwise when you see how many embarrassing photos Sarah and Alessia probably took tonight,” Y/N quipped, her laughter blending with the others’ as they piled into the car.

“Embarrassing?” Harry blinked at her, his expression mock-serious. “Never. I look good in all lighting.”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a laugh as Harry’s head found her shoulder once more. “We’ll see about that in the morning,” she said, her voice fond.

Harry let out a contented sigh. “You smell so nice,” he murmured sleepily.

Y/N giggled, smoothing her hand over his curls. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the car pulled away from the bar, Harry mumbled something about her being “too good for him” before trailing off into a soft snore. Y/N looked down at him, her heart swelling. Even in his drunken, clumsy state, he had a way of making her feel like the most important person in the world.

Once Sarah and Mitch dropped them off right at Harry’s front door, Y/N was left with the daunting task of lugging Harry to his room. He wasn’t exactly helping, his body swaying dramatically as she tried to steady him.

“Harry, you’re not making this easy,” she huffed, half-laughing as he stumbled. By some miracle, she managed to guide him to the bed, where he flopped down—half on the mattress, half on the floor.

“Mission accomplished,” she muttered under her breath, crouching down to untie his laces. But just as she reached for his shoe, he playfully kicked his foot away, his lips curling into a cheeky grin.

“C’mere, Bambi,” he murmured, his voice low and a little slurred.

Y/N stood, brushing off her knees, only to find herself being tugged down onto the bed when he grabbed her wrist. She landed on top of him with a surprised gasp, her hands braced against his chest.

“Harry!” she exclaimed softly, but he didn’t say anything, just looked up at her with those green eyes, hazy but full of something she couldn’t quite describe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to blur as they gazed at each other, an unspoken connection passing between them. Harry reached up, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The faint smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, but his touch was steady, his expression achingly tender.

“Mean it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You make me the happiest.”

Y/N’s heart twisted at the sincerity in his words, her breath catching in her throat. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “You make me the happiest too, Harry.”

Taglist~

ravenclawmarvel noididnotsignupforthis comicalivy @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @mads3502 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown malf-azx @angeldavis777 fruity-harry he6rtshaker vikiii07 hannah9921 pepperonipastas sideboobrry11 soteric-princess madelinelcl ciriceimpera angelbunny222 dutchtheatrelore tchlamqtsgf hawkinsavclub1983 ironstudentlady tpwk-harry-styles angywritesstuff hstbsl06

[jeo9n]

INSTAGRAM

you’ve been texting jungkook on instagram non stop ever since he opened his account as a joke. but what you didn’t expect was for him to actually text you back.

౨ৎ

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers, future smut

warnings: none

wordcount: 2k

you get woken up by your alarm at exactly 6am. like everyday, you open your eyes and the first thing you do is check your phone. catching up with everything that happened while you were asleep. texting your friends back that live in a different time zone than you.

you’re tired but you get out of bed anyway. you have to get ready for work. even if your body is screaming for you to stay in bed.

the first thing you do is make your bed so it prevents from laying back down. you already took a shower yesterday night, which you thank yourself as it saves you time this morning. so all you have to do is brush your teeth and wash your face.

when you’re done with that you make yourself a coffee and start to get dressed. you keep your outfit simple with some baggy jeans and a black long sleeve top because you’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. you always make sure to never leave the house without spraying perfume everywhere on your body. you forgot to but some on one day as you were running late, only noticing when you were already at work and someone might say it’s stupid but you didn’t feel good that day, you didn’t feel like yourself without your sweet perfume. you love to smell good, you love getting compliments on your scent, you love people smelling you before they even see you.

ever since that you never forgot to put perfume on again, but carrying around a travel size bottle of your favorite perfume in your bag just in case.

you pet your cats goodbye one last time before you leave your apartment. you hate leaving them home alone but thankfully they have each other so they are not really "alone" but it still hurts you.

you’re already on the way to the small coffee shop that you work at , as you remember you haven’t texted your boyfriend (jungkook) a good morning text yet. so you pull your phone at your pocket and text him right away. the chat is filled with hundreds of your messages texting him random stuff about how your day was and occasionally sending him some memes and reels you thought were funny.

y/n: good morning jungkoookkk!!

y/n: i’m on my way to work.

y/n: you’re probably asleep but have a good day.

you smile to yourself as you double text him. your not texting him in hopes to get a text back, cause that would be crazy. i mean, that guys is crazy famous of course he’s not going to text me back. you just think it’s funny, although sometimes you think it’s actually kinda weird and you should probably stop, but you never actually do.

as you open the door to your workplace you’re instantly greeted with the delicious smell of coffee, which reminds you, you still have your empty cup of coffee in your hands which you forgot to throw away. your coworker greets you good morning as she looks up from behind the counter.

"good morning. leslie." you greet back as you throw your coffee away. "ugh i really don’t feel like working today." you tell her, while taking of your jacket. she laughs and agrees with you.

"girl, i literally stayed up all night binge watching true crime documentaries." she tells me. "look at my eye bags! i can’t even cover them up with makeup." she says as she lifts up her hand to show me her dark eye bags. "but i guess it’s my own fault. i knew i should’ve turned the tv off after the first episode." she says in frustration and it makes me laugh. i can totally relate to her. you tell yourself one more episode and suddenly the sun comes up and you finished the whole show, wondering where the time went.

happened to me one too many times.

"yea��" you say, tying your apron at you back. "been there, done that." and she smiles softly in response. "should i make you a coffee? cause you really look like you need one." you tell her as you point to your eye bags, mocking her.

she laughs and kicks you jokingly "yes please! make it extra strong."

"will do." you say in a laugh, already on your way to the coffee machine. it’s definitely gonna be a long day for leslie today.

you put the coffee down carefully, not trying to spill the hot coffee all over the counter. "here you go, extra strong for you, your highness. " you bow to her jokingly while laughing like an idiot.

"you’re so stupid." she laughs with you, bringing the coffee up to her lips, trying to take a sip.

you worked a little longer today as usual since it was busy. but you don’t mind. working extra hours means extra money and you would never complain about that.

you take you shoes off and wash your hands as soon as you get home. after that you change into more comfy close just some sweatpants and hoodie and you already feel way better. you walk to your kitchen to feed your cats, who are acting like you leave them out to starve and never feed them. after your done with that you wash your hands again and make yourself something to eat since you only had breakfast today. you decide for pizza today as it doesn’t take long to be ready. you shove it into the oven and while you wait you brows through your phone. you lean against the counter and watch some tiktok’s to make to the time go by faster.

the pizza is done in under 20 times. thankfully. you cannot wait longer or else your stomach is gonna start eating itself. you sit down on your couch with your pizza on your lap. you try to take a bite but it’s still too hot so start browsing through netflix instead to find something to watch while your eating. when you find something your pizza has cooled down already so you start eating.

after your done, you get up and do the dishes right away so you don’t have to worry about it later. after that you decide to take a bath since you haven’t done that in a while and after that hectic day today you really need it.

the warm water hugs your body as you lay down in your bathtub. you feel your body start to relax enjoying the temperature of the water. your eyes are closed as you hear the notification sound from your phone, but you ignore it. you feel so comfortable right now you don’t want to move. so you stay put, enjoying this bath maybe a little too much.

after like twenty minutes you start to get bored and the water has gone cold, so you decide it’s time to get out. you quickly wash your body and get out. you do you skincare and brush your teeth while your body dries, after that you put some vanilla bodylotion on, quickly change into your pyjamas and head to bed, your cats joining you seconds after. one sleeps on top the pillow next to you while the one sleeps between your legs.

you go to grab your phone from your nightstand, checking it one last time before you go to sleep. your just scrolling trough your notifications not thinking anything by it. you stop at one particular notification and your hearts starts to beat faster. sitting straight in your bed, rubbing your eyes to make sure your seeing correctly. you cannot believe what you’re seeing.

jeon jungkook has fucking texted you back.

not only once. he double texted you back.

is this really happening right now?

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: woww! how long have you been texting me for ? there are like a thousand messages lol

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: i hope you had good day at work! i just woke up.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: i saw your message and there are so many. i felt bad so i texted back. looked like your were talking to yourself haha.

wait. i cannot believes this. am i dreaming?

your hands shake and you’re not sure what to text back. should i even text back? would he text back again?

i take a deep breath. my head is going crazy right now.

after you collected yourself , you text back.

y/n: lol this is awkward.

y/n: i wasn’t thinking you would actually text back.🫣

y/n: i hope my message weren’t bothering you or anything.

you struggle sending the message back cause your hands won’t stop shaking. but can you blame me? the love of my life just texting me back and my stupid ass ignored it because of that stupid bath i took.

i bite on my nails nervously, my heart is beating so fast it might jump out of my chest at any minute.

i wait for an answer back, which is stupid, i know.

just because he texted me back one time doesn’t mean he’s going to do it again.

you know he won’t. but still, you wait.

you wait for like an hour until you realize he’s actually not responding anymore so you decide to go sleep. or try to go to sleep i should say, since your mind won’t stop thinking about what had just happened.

after a while you eventually fall asleep after what felt like hours.

the next morning you get woken up again by your alarm. this time you grab your phone a little faster than usual. scrolling through your notifications with tired but curious eyes.

you eyes widen as you find his notification again.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: haha no, you don’t bother me. i read through your messages last night.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: you’re funny haha.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: judging by the time i usually get the first message from you, i should get a message soon right?

you read the last text and it says sent an hour ago.

okay wait. he texted again? and he thinks i’m funny?

im definitely dreaming because there is no way that this is fucking happening.

your thumbs moves fast as you reply to him.

y/n: no way!!!

y/n: am i dreaming?? please tell me im not

y/n: is this really jungkook?

y/n: no, it can’t be

y/n: is someone playing with me?

someone definitely must be playing with you. because what do you mean jeon jungkook texted me back not one, but twice?

you actually cannot believe it yourself. this is crazy.

you wait a little bit to see if he’ll respond again. but nothing comes so you start getting ready for work.

how am i going get through work today, when all i can think about is him. you think to yourself.

~~~~

i hope you enjoy this chapter because im definitely excited about this fanficton ahhh

[homeofthelonelywriter]

“Thanks, Simon, I owe you!” The soldier watched you rush around the apartment, making sure you had grabbed everything you needed, with a smile. “Don’t worry, love, you go have fun at Pilates. The little one and I will have a great time.” His hands, gentle on your shoulders, steered you out the door before he closed the door, keeping you from coming up with an excuse to stay after all.

If he was completely honest, he was actually kind of excited to spend some one-on-one time with your daughter. After all, if he wanted to have any chance of getting with you, he would have to charm the little girl first. Maybe that was why he had stopped at a toy store before coming to your apartment, picking up the doll you had told him about—the one your daughter had seen in a commercial a few weeks ago and had wanted ever since. Kids could be bribed, after all, right?

And thankfully, everything went well. Your daughter had a field day with the tough soldier. Making him play pretend, having a tea party, and playing hide-and-seek, all before she sat him down and did his make-up. When dinner time rolled around, she even managed to convince him to ignore whatever you had prepared for the two of them, and instead order pizza.

“This is mommy’s favorite.” She pointed one of her little fingers at the menu before pointing to the one you always ordered for her. He rang in the order and grabbed the money from his wallet, preparing it by the door. The food arrived sooner than later, and Simon sat down in the living room, your daughter right beside him, while they watched ‘Frozen’. Simon even sang along, much to your daughter’s enjoyment.

All too soon, you walked through the door, apologizing for taking longer than you had planned, but when you entered the living room, you stopped, a grin forming on your face. Simon, makeup still on his face, was lying on your couch, your daughter almost asleep on his chest as she was muttering things. The moment Simon noticed you, he smiled and carefully waved to you, not wanting to disturb your daughter. You walked closer, crouching down next to the pair, trying to hear what she was saying.

She looked up at Simon, her eyes drooping shut, but she fought against sleep with everything she had. “You’re beautiful and capable of great things.” She paused to take a little breath. “Like murder.” Your eyes widened, as did Simon’s. Your daughter stopped talking for a moment, and you almost thought she had fallen asleep, but then she spoke up again. “Don’t do that though.” Your hand clasped down over your mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble out. “Unless it’s completely necessary.” That was it. You started laughing, falling back onto your ass, as Simon’s chest started to jump up and down, showing his laughter and disturbing your daughter’s rest.

With almost closed eyes, she peered at the two of you, clearly confused. “Mommy?” You calmed yourself before answering. “Yes, baby, I’m back. Let’s get you to bed, huh?” She nodded, almost asleep again.

When you reached for her, Simon shook his head. “I got her.” Without an issue, he sat up and shifted your daughter to lie in his arms. You guided the way to her room, where Simon gently put her down before tucking her in and leaving the room. Before you left, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and wished her a good night. Outside, Simon was waiting for you, and the moment you made eye contact, you burst out laughing again, reminding each other to be quiet, as you walked back down to the entrance hall.

“Thank you, Simon, I really appreciate your help.” He grinned at you, rubbing the back of his neck as the two of you stood there. “Anytime. She is a sweetheart…even if weird sometimes.” You chuckled, agreeing with a nod. Silence fell over the two of you, but you interrupted it before it could grow awkward. “Well…I’ll let you get on your way, it’s already late.” Simon nodded, stepping out of the door as you opened it. But before he could walk away, you reached up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thanks again. Good night, Simon.”

A/N: Some cuteness. Based on this TikTok

[hoshifighting]

staff!jeonghan

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, fame problems, paris trip, idol!reader is a sweetheart with her staff team, teasing, hair pulling, makeup smudging hair destroying sex, face slap, paris sex.

staff!jeonghan who started way back when your career was just taking off. you were still fresh, the kind of new that had people curious but not quite sold on the idea of you making it long term. jeonghan wasn’t even supposed to be sticking around. dude was just a freelancer, floating between gigs like it was nothing. hairdresser one week, stylist the next, maybe even photographer’s assistant if he felt like it. didn’t care much either—just did his job, got his check, and dipped.

he was there the first time you came in for a shoot, thinking, oh, here we go again, another idol who doesn’t know shit about shit, and probably treats their staff like trash. honestly, he didn’t expect anything from you. he had his walls up like crazy. you’d been doing this for, what, a hot minute? and you were already getting attention, which just made him think, “yep, this one’s probably the snobby kind. won’t even acknowledge us when she’s walking by.”

but then you went and did the most surprising thing—like blew his expectations out of the water kinda surprise. you saw him—no, not just like saw him, but like saw him. took a minute to actually chat. asked how his day was, if he needed anything while he was running around fixing the stage lights or whatever. you even remembered his name by the end of the first day, which? yeah, idols usually don’t bother with that.

fast forward a couple months, and jeonghan’s still hanging around. he didn’t plan to stay, but something about you changed that. it wasn’t even the work, really. it was more like you made things different for the whole staff—hairdressers, makeup artists, stylists, all of them. you had this habit of, like, breaking all the usual rules. you’d bring coffee for everyone in the morning, none of that half-assed, "just for my personal team" bullshit, you made sure everyone was taken care of, because they take care of you as welll.

then there was that time when you randomly called up your manager one day like, "hey, i’m taking everyone out to eat after the shoot." and jeonghan was standing there, trying not to look too surprised, but inside he was like, who the hell does that? especially in this industry where staff usually gets a handshake and a “thanks for your work” at most. while you’re out here throwing cash around to make sure your team is happy. it’s wild.

he remembers the first time you handed out those holiday bonuses. it wasn’t even from the company’s budget either; it was straight up from your own wallet. like, your money. you didn’t even make a big deal about it, just casually handed out envelopes and said, “merry christmas, you guys.” you should’ve seen their faces—everyone was shook, even him, and he doesn’t get surprised that easily. it was one of those moments where the room just, like, collectively inhaled. there was silence, and then someone—probably one of the stylists—goes, “y/n, this is... you didn’t have to...”

and you? you just shrugged, all casual, like it was no big deal. “nah, i wanted to. thank you for taking care of me, you make part of all of this too.” you pointed to the stage.

jeonghan couldn’t even look at you right for a second because it was, like, damn, okay, she’s for real. that was the moment he decided he wasn’t just gonna treat this gig like all the others. working with you? yeah, it felt different. and not in some sappy, fairytale shit kind of way, but in a “maybe there are still people in this industry who aren’t complete assholes” kind of way.

“so you’re sticking around, hannie?” you asked him one day, catching him off guard while he was fixing up your jacket right before a stage performance.

he smirked, his usual cocky, nonchalant self, but there was something softer underneath it. “guess i don’t have a choice. you make it too easy.”

he was your go-to guy now, the one you trusted with everything, from making sure your hair wasn’t fucked up during press tours to giving you a reality check when you were stressing over the dumbest things. and he liked that. he liked being the one you leaned on when you didn’t wanna bother anyone else.

but it was more than that too. you were just different. the way you treated people, the way you made sure everyone around you felt seen, felt valued? it wasn’t fake. it wasn’t for show. it was you. and jeonghan? well, he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around just for anyone. but for you? yeah, maybe he’d go the long haul.

jeonghan was always there, like a constant shadow that somehow made everything feel lighter instead of heavier. as your career blew up, he didn’t just keep pace—he matched your energy, your needs, every twist and turn that came with your fame. whether it was press tours, backstage chaos, or those ridiculous interviews where some clueless host would try to push your boundaries, he was always ready.

you’d be in the middle of a tv show, mind racing, and then there’d be a subtle shift. jeonghan standing just offstage, watching with a sharp, gaze of his. and it wasn’t like he had to do much—sometimes just a look was enough to let you know he had your back. like that time they tried to switch up your routine last minute, making changes that didn’t sit right with you. you didn’t even need to speak up, though. before you could say a word, he was already stepping in, throwing that effortless, yet somehow intimidating smile toward the team. “nah, we’re sticking with the original plan. my artist doesn’t do changes without notice.”

“your artist,” you’d hear him say that a lot, like a protective label stamped right over you, like you belonged to him—not in a possessive way, but in a way that made you feel safe. secure.

it wasn’t just about the work either, not even close. jeonghan made the loneliness that came with fame feel less suffocating. that part of fame nobody talks about—the part where you can’t make real friends anymore, where every new person in your life feels temporary, transactional. except him. he was loyal.

when you had those long, grueling days full of photoshoots and interviews and events, and all you wanted was to escape, jeonghan was the one who made sure you still had a piece of normal.

like that one time in paris. you were there for a fashion show, sitting front row with all these industry giants who couldn’t care less about anything but themselves, and jeonghan was right beside you, but afterward, when it was just the two of you, he was the one who dragged you to some random hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the street, far from all the cameras and flashing lights, ordering too much food and laughing at how terrible your french was.

“you know, you’re lucky you’ve got me,” he teased, watching you struggle with the menu. “otherwise, you’d be stuck ordering water and bread for the rest of the trip.”

you elbowed him playfully. “i’m just trying to be cultured, okay?”

“sure, sure,” he snickered, but the grin on his face was soft, like he was glad to be there with you. “leave the culture to me.”

he was there on the quieter days too. you’d be at home, no schedule to follow for once, just free. but that freedom? it felt empty when you didn’t have anyone to share it with. jeonghan got that. he’d show up at your place without even needing an invitation, like he just knew when you needed him there. sometimes he wouldn’t even knock. you’d just hear the door click open and his familiar voice, “you better not be working in there.”

you’d laugh, shouting back from wherever you were in the apartment, “i’m not, calm down.”

next thing you knew, he’d be on the floor of your pristine living room, surrounded by lego pieces because, for some reason, that’s what the two of you did on your days off. it was ridiculous, really, two adults crouched over colorful plastic blocks, but it made you feel like a kid again, like before everything got so complicated.

you’d crouch down next to him, watching his hands move, and without thinking, you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. it wasn’t even romaaaantic, more like instinct. jeonghan had this way of making you feel safe, like you didn’t have to be the perfect version of yourself all the time. you could just be you. and hugging him like that, clinging onto him like a koala, it was the only way you knew how to show him just how much he meant to you.

“you’re clingy today,” he murmured, but there was no complaint in his voice, just that familiar teasing.

“you’re soft,” you shot back, squeezing him tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his cologne was subtle but always the same, something that reminded you of quiet, peaceful moments, like this.

he tilted his head a little, catching your eyes “oh, yeah? not what you said last time.”

you puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms dramatically, the sulk settling in. “i’m done being clingy with you, jeonghan.”

he grinned like he was waiting for that exact reaction. it’s almost like he lived for these moments—when you’d pout and try to act all tough, but really? he knew exactly where this was headed. you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not him.

“oh yeah?” he tilted his head, gaze dripping with amusement as he leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “you sure about that?”

you tried to hold firm, but the way his voice dropped a little lower, teasing. you shifted your weight, crossing your legs under you on the living room floor, avoiding eye contact. “mmhmm. you’ll see.”

jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, leaning back and watching you with a glint in his eyes, like he was just waiting for you to crack. “you’re too cute when you sulk, y’know that?”

your heart fluttered, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek, determined to keep up the act. “whatever.”

he moved closer, a hand sliding around your waist, tugging you just enough so that your body leaned into his. “nah, don’t pout, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing lightly against your jaw. “we both know how this ends.”

and he was right. because, every time you tried to act like you were done with him, like you were going to keep your distance, it only ended one way���with you wet underneath him, a needy mess, begging for more.

like that first time in paris. paris had done something to the both of you. it was supposed to be a normal night, just you and him hanging out after the fashion show. nothing special, just another city on the endless list of places you’d been together. but somehow, that night went different. the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you’d scarcely made it through the door before his hands were on you, grabbing, pulling, claiming.

“thought you were gonna keep your distance,” jeonghan had teased as he pressed you up against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, making your knees weak.

you were already panting, feeling the warmness of him beaming off his body. “shut up, hannie.”

he chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you, making you gasp. “aww, so cute when you’re needy.”

and fuck, were you needy. by the time he’d pushed you onto the bed, tugging at your clothes, you were already whimpering for him, already soaked.

he’d dragged you to the edge, rough hands all over your body, pulling, squeezing, leaving marks everywhere. your hair had been perfect for the show, all sleek and done up, but that shit didn’t last long. the second he had his fist tangled in it, pulling your head back, it was ruined. thrusting into you from behind, his cock splitting you in half with each brutal thrust. “such a fucking mess.”

you’d tried to keep quiet, biting down on the pillow as your body rocked with every movement, but every time you let out a whiny moan, jeonghan was right there to mock you for it.

“aww, hannie’s being too harsh?” he cooed, as he tries to sound sweet. “hm? poor baby can’t take it?”

you’d only moaned louder, your body trembling as he slapped your ass, the sting making you cry out. he’d leaned down then, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “use your words, sweetheart. tell hannie how bad you want it.”

you couldn’t even speak, just a mess of broken moans and gasps as he kept slamming into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room. and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were right on the edge, that’s when he did it. his hand came up to your face, smudging the glitter from the show as he slapped you—not enough to really hurt. he is a careful guy.

“fuck, y/n, look at you. such a pretty little mess,” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you from behind, relentless. “you gonna come for me? c’mon, baby, let me hear it.”

you whimpered, nodding, your mind spinning as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over, making you roll your eyes, drool, everything u had right of. but just as you were about to cum, he pulled out, leaving you empty and desperate.

“aww, no no no, not yet,” jeonghan cooed, a wicked grin on his face as he turned you onto your back, pushing your legs open wide. “hannie’s not done with you.”

your heart pounded, your entire body aching for release, but you didn’t dare move. he was in control, and you knew better than to push him.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours as he teased you. “too much?”

you shook your head, barely able to get the words out. “n-no… please…”

his smirk widened, that wicked glint in his eyes making you shiver. “please what? gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as you looked up at him, desperate. “please… fuck me…”

“good girl.”

[nightingale-prompts]

Deathday Party

Part of this post series > link

Tim had no idea he was being courted by Danny and was making his way to an official engagement at this rate. What he did know was that Danny had invited him to an important party at the mansion of none other then Vlad Masters.

Danny had mentioned that his family and Masters had a rocky past but it had gotten better before he left for university. Tim wasn't convinced due to the stories Danny had offhandly mentioned. The guy had tried to out Danny to his parents and rallied the town against him. So excuse Tim for not wanting Danny to go back to a homophobic town like that and a bastard who did something so petty just because a kid's mom wouldn't sleep with you.

But Danny was his friend. The only normal friend he had who treated him like this. Sure he really likes giving gifts and has a fascination for flowers but that's all the more reason to look after him. It was pure luck that Tim befriended him before a cult did.

Tim was still going to supportive and still needed to make it up to Danny for not visiting Amity Park last time. So he packed and boarded the plane a few days before the party.

Danny began introducing Tim to everyone in his family. For the most part, it was a warm welcome. Danny's dad told him that they would have to sleep in separate rooms because "He knows how boys could be and there will be no funny business."

Tim was indignant but reminded himself to be polite. Danny's dad may not be the most accepting of LGBT people but this was his home.

Danny only blushed and brushed his dad off, after all, he and Tim hadn't even kissed yet.

Danny's friends were cool though. Sam was definitely the source of Danny's gothic tendencies. She and Danny discussed herbs, crystals, and graveyards together while Tim got to know Tucker.

The next day they went to the Masters' estate and Tim met Danny's other family. Dani or Elle was Danny's little sister or cousin or something. It was confusing but she immediately took a liking to Tim.

"Ooo, he's cute~ You dont mind sharing right Danny?" She teased linking arms with Tim.

"Knock it off Elle. He's too old for you anyway and if Vlad heard you he'd set Tim on fire." Danny admonished her pulling her off by the hoodie.

Tim didn't catch that Danny was being completely serious about the fire part.

Vlad Masters would be out of the house until the party that night but the mansion was being set up for the event. Apparently, the "Deathday" party was a bigger deal than Tim thought. The guest list was a mile long.

From what Tim gathered a death day was a celebration of life after a near-death experience. Like if someone flatlined during surgery and are brought back. Its actually a pretty smart way to deal with trauma by making the event a reason to celebrate.

Tim had heard from Danny of the day he was electrocuted and that it changed his life. He definitely had the scar to prove it. Danny had gotten a UV tattoo over it or something because it glowed faintly at night. It was pretty cool.

That evening Tim was handed his costume for the event. The party had a royal theme, something that didn't seem like Danny's idea. Still, Danny's silver and ivy green dublette looked...pretty good. Tim dressed in a similar red and gold suit.

"You look good." Danny pulled out an ornate emerald cravat pin and pinned it to Tim label.

"You too," Tim said without thinking but Danny smiled before going back to putting the finishing touches on their outfits.

It was...intimate to say the least as Danny pulled back Tim's hair. He fastened their capes and a (fake) dagger to his belt.

Danny put put on a subtle layer of makeup. Darkening his eyes, cheeks, and lips. It gave him a pale and deathly appearance.

"I have to look my best. I don't want anyone to think I'm just using you as arm candy." Danny laughed.

"That implies that you are using me as that already." Tim jested but stopped when Danny pointed to the makeup trey. "You're joking."

"Im not. It's an important event and this isn't Gotham. There are alot of people i want you to meet. Just play along." Danny begged.

Tim agreed letting Danny put on a bit of black and red makeup.

"Aww, Tim. You look absolutely ghastly. Your funeral ready." Danny gushed as he turned to grab the last things they needed. Two circlets with stars emblems embedded in them.

Tim laughed internally. Danny was always to positive Tim forgot just how goth he was. Tim knew he shouldn't be surpised.

Tim and Danny walked to the mansion's ballroom which was full of guests dressed similarly to them. The room glowed eerily under green-flamed torches. Very gothic. On second thought this suited Danny.

A staff member er...servant announced their arrival.

"His Highness the High Prince of the realm of infinite space and his guest."

None other than Vlad Masters approached. He had thrown this party for his godson and wanted everything perfect. He eyed Tim critically before speaking to Danny.

"Daniel I heard about your...friend from Elle. Its that what he is?" Masters studied.

"He's my-"

"Boyfriend! I'm his boyfriend." Tim interrupted. He was not going to let this homophonic piece of shit undermine Danny's sexuality again and try to embarrass him. Especially on such an I'm day. " Tim Drake, son of Bruce Wayne and head of Wayne Industries. I've heard a LOT about you Mr.Masters."

After a moment Vlad nodded and smiled.

"You've chosen well. He's quite the catch my boy. Happy Death Day." Vlad patted Danny on the back before going to mingle with Danny's parents who where tearing up the cheese platter.

Danny blinked owlishly at Tim. Tim had never used that word yet, Danny thought they were not at that stage yet.

"Sorry Danny, i got caught up." Tim sighed.

"You know he's going to tell everyone right?" Danny laughed "I hope you're ready."

Danny dragged Tim to meet his ghost friends for the rest of the evening between dancing and eating.

Tim had fun meeting Danny's fellow goth friends who complimented him a lot. They were definitely strange but they really loved Danny. The whole party was like a Renaissance festival meets one of those novels that Jason loved. Actually, Jason would be so jealous of him right now. Tim made sure to take pictures. Some of them came out fuzzy but it was enough to make Jason mad.

[rafesslxt]

Showerhead 2 | mattheo riddle

pt. 2 — you can find pt. 1 here

summary: after you and mattheo had some fun in the shower, you two can‘t stop thinking about each other and that night. But who gives in first to sin again after a little jealousy?

words: 5,1k

warnings: heavy dirty talk again, cursing, making out, dry humping, teasing, controlling, praising, bj, unprotected p in v, shower, swallowing, legilimency (mind reading),

note: you don‘t have to read part 1 for this part but have fun if you want to

— in the great hall —

After that night in the shower 2 weeks ago, I couldn‘t stop thinking about it. I dreamed about it in my sleep, daydreamed about it in class and lunch while Hermione talked about some book we needed to read to understand everything in potions.

I hated it but everytime we crossed paths, he winked at me and I couldn't help myself but start blushing. As soon as I saw his face, I saw it between my legs.

"Y/n? Are you even listening?" Hermione says and shakes me a litte at my shoulder. "What? Yeah yeah of course, I'm gonna read it." They all look at each other before their eyes are on me again. "We were actually talking about how Cormac seems to have quite interest in you." Harry then continues.

I start laughing loud, looking at them as If each of them has 3 heads." What the hell are you talking about?" "Told ya she's not listening.." Ron says, raising his eyebrows as he bites into his toast.

"I thought he‘s interested in Hermione?" I ask as my laughter calms down a bit. "Harry heard him talking about how he would - well.. do certain things to you." My amused face turns into a disgusting one as I hear what Ron says.

"Yeah and guess who‘s got an invention to Slughorn‘s dinner?" Hermione says with raised eyebrows.

Ron looks at her shoked. "What?? That prick got one and I didn‘t?"

"Oh god no.." a few days ago Harry, Hermione and myself got an invention to tonights Slughorn‘s dinner for his favorite students. ".. but wait, how do you know who‘s coming?" I ask her. "I just asked him after the last lesson of potions. It‘s Neville, Ginny, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, Corma –" "Mattheo Riddle?" I ask her shocked, looking at her with wide eyes.

I would see him again? Like.. this close and with people around us? My mind is racing as Hermione answers. "Yeah well, you know he‘s really smart and good in potions." "And he has an interest in special students and Mattheo is.. well – special." Harry comments.

Ron snorts and talks with a full mouth. "Mh yeaw hiff fatha was "speschal".

Hermione rolls his eyes at his full mouth and looks at me again. "Why are you so suprised by his name?" she asks me a little suspicious. " oh uh- just suprised, i always thought Mattheo is uh - not interested in things like that."

"Why would chou think about wat Mattheo is-" "Ron just eat and shut up!" I snap at him making the other two widen their eyes a bit.

I collect my things and stand up from the table. "I‘m gonna go to.. god i don‘t know I‘m gonna go." I say, walking off before they can answer. Because it‘s the weekend I luckily don‘t have classes today. I don‘t think I could concentrate in one of them after the information I just got. God why him? Why me? Maybe I can say I feel sick.. no he would know. I can‘t back down.

I walk down a hall, not thinking where I am going and suddenly crash into something hard but not as hard as a wall. My book and writing stuff falls to the ground and I look up, staring right into the face of Mattheo.

My brain went blank in this monent. "What princess? Aren‘t you happy to see me?" he grins down at me before he gets down and picks up my stuff. "Hm I remember a similar moment, same position." He smiles even more when he sees my red cheeks and not talking mouth. As he gives me my stuff he presses his mouth to my ear and whispers "I‘m looking forward to tonight" And with that, he‘s gone.

I‘m so fucked.

— at the evening —

" Do you know what you‘re wearing?" I ask Hermione while I put on some makeup. I hear her sigh and she goes "yeah I have this one dress I really like. What about you?" I shake my head as I search for my lipliner. " Not really, but I have enough dresses so I‘ll find something." Hermione laughs at my comment as she pulls out her dress and changes into it.

After I‘m done with my makeup and hair, I walk over to my closet, looking for a nice dress.

"What about this one? It would fit perfectly for the occasion." She says as she pulls out a dress of mine. It is long and black, with cute little arms on it. "It‘s pretty but I want something.. else." As i go trough my clothes I think about Mattheo again and what would impress him. God I need to stop it.

"Well what are you looking for?" "Hmm something likeee.. this." It‘s perfect. It‘s short but not too short, i know it sits beautifully on me and.. it‘s green.

(imagine something like this but in some green tone and longer so it‘s more school approved)

Hermione raises her eyebrows and looks at me. "Are you sure? Isn‘t it a little too.. party?" I love her for how she always chose her words wisely and with a knowledge for not hurting and judging people. I know what she meant but she would never think about judging me. Even when I put my clothes on she wouldn‘t pick, she makes me feel great in them.

"Yeah, I‘m sure." I smile, putting it on. When I look into the mirror I smile even more, thinking about how Mattheo will react seeing me in it.

As the time comes we take our purses and walk outside our dorms, meeting Harry and Ron in the common room. "You both look great." Harry tells us like the gentlemen he is but Ron just scans me like a little hater and looks at me. "Isn‘t that a little too flashy?" "Ron!" Hermione hits him on the shoulder.

"Don‘t be mad at what you can‘t have Ronald." I say grinning and winking at him before I link my arm into Harry‘s with Hermione doing the same on his right side.

We walked through Hogwarts, towards the dinner and the closer we got the more my heart started beating as If I‘m running a marathon.

I open the door in front of us after taking one last deep breath and walk inside with my two friends.

Everyone was already there, seated perfectly. "Oh hello you three! I‘m so glad you made it. Please choose a seat and get comfortable." Professor Slughorn greets us. I always liked him, even tho many say he‘s a little weird sometimes but I think thats exactly what I do like about him.

As I walk towards an empty seat, I scan the table, looking at Mattheo when I found him but his eyes were already on my dress.

Quickly I look away, seeing that Cormacs eyes were on me too which made me gag a little.

But god Mattheo looks so good. He wears a simple white shirt with a black tie and black slacks. Damn what I would give to ride his thigh in these – "Y/n you‘re staring." Hermione whispers into my ear, making me realise i stared right at Mattheo, but to my suprise he‘s still looking, not breaking eye contact for a second.

I gulp and look away, feeling my cheeks getting warm. God I hate it so much what kind of affect he has on me. I can‘t be the only one..

Wait. I‘m a woman. I can definitely tease him and make him feel the same.

The dinner goes on, nothing special besides Ginny who came in crying. Definitely have to ask her with Hermione about that later in detail.

As desert comes I look around the table, meeting Cormacs eyes. He licks of some ice cream from his fingers and wiggles his eybrows at me. Oh god I think I‘m gonna throw up.

As soon as I can I look away to Mattheo who was giving Cormac one of his death stares. Interesting.

I don‘t really know why i think it‘s a good idea but i do think it is. So I lean back a little, presenting the low cut at the front of my chest. I see Mattheo‘s eyes flicker to my chest and so do Cormac‘s but Mattheo‘s eyes switch back really fast to Cormac and give him a second glare. Really interesting.

I smile triumphal and lean a bit forwards again, pressing my boobs together this time. Instantly I get a headache but a really intense one. I hiss in pain which makes Harry look at me worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I just got an really bad headache.“ i whisper back, wondering what it caused.

Soon the dinner was over and everyone thanked Slughorn for the invitation. "I‘ll stay and try to figure out what that missing memory of Slughorn‘s is." Harry whispers to us before staying behind.

My headache got a bit better but It still didn‘t go away. As we walked trough the door I said to Hermione and Ginny "You guys go to the common room, I‘ll follow. I just wanna get some advil from Miss Pomfrey.“ They nod and tell me that they will go into Ginny‘s room to talk more privately.

It‘s already late and a bit after curfew but Professor Slughorn told us he made sure we would get in no trouble If someone sees us.

I rub my head slighty, trying to ease the pain on my way but nothing helped.

Then, out if nowhere a hand slaps over my mouth and a arm wraps around me, pressing me against a body. I scream into the hand, trying to get myself free until I see who the hand and arm belongs to.

"You didn‘t think I would let you go off that easily in that little dress of yours huh?“ Mattheo breathes against my face as it was only a few inches away from mine.

He slowly takes his hand away from my mouth, letting me speak. "What do you mean?" I ask and try the innocent act but he doesn‘t buy it.

"Oh princess, princess, princess. You can‘t fool me. I know that you wore this excuse of an dress for me. Fuck and also in my house color's? That‘s no fucking coincidence."

I gulp at his words and the fact that he knows who I wore it for. There‘s not even a single chance for me to lie. "And what If I did wore it for someone else?" Only one way and that‘s to push his last buttons. Oh how I wanted to push that buttons until –

"Someone else, yeah? Then who was it for?" "Cormac." As soon as his name left my mouth I regretted it. I see his jaw clenching and his grin fading. "Cormac yeah? So you didn‘t thought about me the whole dinner?" I slowly shake my head no, not daring to move now.

"So you‘re wet for him right now? Not me?" "What? I‘m not–" but as soon as I move my legs I feel it too. Shit. When I only look up at him his grin comes back.

"Yeah that‘s what I thought.. so why don‘t we skip this bullshit and you come with me?" Before I can even answer him, he takes my hand and pulls me trough the corridors, towards the Slytherin common room. " Mattheo I can't-" "Shut up." he hisses and whispers something under his breath so the doors to his common room would open.

"Can't fucking believe you pulled such a show in front of that stupid dick." he growled quietly before we reach his dorm. I start smiling as I see he's getting mad at the fact that Cormac saw me in that dress. "T'fuck you smiling about huh?"

As we enter his room I notice that there is only one bed which makes me wonder. "Don't you have a roommate?" "No, I have my own room." I scoff at his answer and look around his room. It has a big bed beside the window of the room and a little nightstand beside it. On the other side of the room is a big couch and a armchair.

But before I could think about it any further, he pulls me into his lap, face towards his, after he sat down on the armchair. "You know, you could have just told me If you missed me princess. Didn't need to dress all up for me." He puts his hands on my hips, grabbing them tightly.

I roll my eyes at him and act as If I didn't already enjoy his touch. "Didn't miss you." I say, looking away from him. He chuckles and pulls my face back to his with his fingers on my chin. "Are you sure?" I only nod and look into his brown eyes. They look so dark without any light in the room, that they send even more shivers down my spine than usual.

"Is your head better? Still in any pain?" he asks me grinning. "Yeah they-" wait. I never told him about my headache. Or could he hear when I told Hermione and Ginny? Or when Harry asked me at dinner?

His hands slowly wander down to my tights were my dress slowly rose up and placed them there, squeezing my flesh lightly. I felt his breath on my neck, giving me goosebumps. "It's gotten better, right?" he asks again. His lips ghosted over my skin, making me bite my lip.

"How do you know?" I ask him in a whisper. "I know everything that goes through your pretty little mind baby."

I tried to figure out what he meant by that but I couldn't concentrate with his hands on my skin and his lips almost against my neck. I need him so much.

"What baby, can't concentrate? Too much for you already?" he coos and finally kisses my neck, nibbling on the skin between his lips.

I can't believe how easy he gets under my skin with his kisses and whispers, not even doing anything. " I know you dreamed about me these last two weeks, thought about me at every chance you got. In class, in the shower, wishing it was me who touched you." he groaned against my throat.

My eyebrows squeeze together at his words. " How would you know that?" "Did you never wonder why your head always hurted at the same times?" I gasp and pull my neck away from him. " Are you reading my mind?" my eyes go wide as he just smiles at me sheepishly. Oh my god, no. This can't be. He's not allowed to know all these private thoughts.

"You don't know how hard it was for me to stay away and wait until you would come back to me but you little minx didn't and after tonight.. I couldn't just let you slip away from me again."

"Y-you can't do that Mattheo. That's not allowed. These are my thoughts." "I know baby but I couldn't help myself after that night in the shower. You were like a dream coming true so submissive and responsive to me. Fuck I'm already getting hard just thinking about it. But you understand I didn't have a chance, right? I couldn't risk you thinking about someone else then me."

He slowly pulled my dress up, exposing my tights and underwear. "God are you for real? Did you plan this?" he groans as he sees my matching set, a dark green lingerie set.

He pulls me closer to him, looking deep into my eyes.

"Ride my thigh." he commands and puts his hands back on my hips. "What?" I ask, looking at him dumbfounded. " It's my thigh or nothing. I'm not helping you getting off this time." I look at him with my mouth hanging open in shock. How could he be so cruel?

"C'mon, ride it baby I know you thought about it at dinner." My cheeks got red as he mentioned that. He dips his head towards my neck again and starts covering it in wet kisses. "Don't test my patience, love." he whispers and tightens his grip on my hips, moving them slowly. I gasp at the sudden friction.

"Feels good, right?" I only nod, closing my eyes as I start to move my hips in circles against his thigh. I feel so dirty doing this but at the same time it feels so good to finally get the friction I needed the last weeks again.

I feel my clit rubbing against my underwear, making me whimper and move my hips faster. "Fuck, look at you. I thought you were desperate back in the shower but now you're just getting yourself off on my thigh like a dirty little whore." I moaned at his words combined with his kisses on my skin. His lips went lower, first towards my collarbones, then further down to my chest.

I feel one hand of him wander to my underwear and pushing it to the side so my bare pussy rubbed against the material of his pants. I whine at the feeling, my hands grabbing his broad shoulders. " Oh my god. I'm so close Mattheo." He laughs wickedly against my chest, pushing down my dress so it hangs at the middle of my body. His mouth wanders to my bra, unclasping it with one hand behind my back.

"You're so beautiful baby, never ever am I waiting two weeks again for that." he growls and starts massaging my boobs and playing with my sensitive nipples.

I arch my back, shivers run down my spine at his touch. The grinding get's more and more intense. "Feel this?" he asks as he takes my hand and puts it on his bulge. "It's just for you." I bite my lip and look down at my hand. It looks so painful that I start massaging it through his pants. He bucks his hips up into my touch, his breathing getting heavier.

While still riding his thigh, I open his pants and push them down together with his boxershorts. His already fully hard cock slaps against his stomach before I take him into my hand. I spread the pre-cum over his tip with my thumb and start moving my hand up and down. "Shit princess.." he hisses, thrusting his hips up into my hand.

"I'm so close Mattheo.." I whine as I almost start rutting my hips against him. "Come on my leg baby, do it." he groans, lips apart.

I let go of his cock for a moment to dig my nails into his shoulders for support as I press my throbbing clit harder against him. He takes his cock into his hand and jerks himself off as he watches me panting and moaning.

With a deep twisting feeling in my stomach I come all over his thigh, riding out my orgasm.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he says and I look down at his pants, a big wet spot on them now. My legs still shake from my high and I look up at him again.

Mattheo's POV:

Fuck. I don't know what it is but I have a feeling that this girl is going to be the death of me. With hooded eyes she looks up at me and almost get's me to cum in my own hand just from her eyes looking into mine. She had such a chokehold on me, but I will never admit that to her.

I smile down at her before I speak "already fucked out again and I didn't even touched you." The same thing I told her two weeks ago after I've eaten her pussy and she came after 3 minutes.

"Fuck off." she mumbles and falls slightly against my chest. "As much as I enjoy this closeness baby.." I start, nodding towards my rock hard cock, laying against my stomach.

I push a strand of hair behind her ear and whisper into it. " Suck on it." Her eyes go wide and she looks down on me with those innocent eyes again. " Don't tell me you never sucked cock with those pretty lips." I say, looking at her plump lips, almost begging to be fucked.

She rolls her eyes at me again, making me want to choke her until she stops. " I have." Her answer makes my clench my jaw, wishing she would've just said she didn't.

I pushed her down in front of my legs. I grab a pillow from the couch beside us and put it under her knees, making her grin. " Don't tell me you suddenly care for me Matty?" Now I am the one who rolls his eyes.

I grab her pretty hair into a ponytail and push her towards my cock. She takes it into her hand and starts to lick off the pre-cum from my tip. A moment later she starts sucking on my tip, making me smile. I have a feeling this is going to be good.

I hiss as her wet lips and warm mouth take more of my cock into her mouth. I close my eyes and let my head hang backwards. " Come on y/n, show me what you got."

Suddenly she takes me all the way down her throat, my eyes almost bulging out of my head and my mouth falling open. "Oh fuck, yeah!" I groan, gritting my teeth together. I swear I could feel her smile around me.

She bobs her head up and down in a fast pace, making me moan and groan like a little bitch. Fuck, what is it with this girl?

I feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. " Oh Shit." I lift my head up to look down at her. Her eyes are teary and her hands support herself on my tights. I start grinning, wishing I could take a picture of her pretty mouth around me.

Her throat clenches around me so delicious I almost came. "Hmm baby, you know how to suck cock. Gonna give you that." I pant.

One of her hands go down to my balls, massaging them. " Oh - " I throw my head back again, feeling something in my lower stomach. My hips buck up and I hear her gag, only getting me closer to my high. "M' gonna cum down your throat and you'll swallow it, yeah?" I ask her, breathing heavy. It doesn't take me long to cum and fill her mouth. "Fuckkk.." I groan, pushing her down even harder so her nose touches my stomach.

"Swallow it. All of it." I slowly let go of her, but seeing her cough a little only fuels my desire. She opens her mouth after she swallows and shows me that she swallowed every single drop.

"That's a good girl. Now come on.. let's take a shower." I say grinning at her and helping her back up. "Mattheo I don't know If I can walk so far." she sighs as she stands on her still shaky legs.

I kiss the top of her head, something I never do but just feels right with her. " You don't have to. I have my own shower." I pick her up bridal style and carry her towards my bathroom."

Y/n's POV:

As he picks me up to carry me, I feel a few butterfly's in my stomach but I try to suppress them.

He let's me down when we stand under his shower. His clothes hit the floor. "Hot or cold?" he ask, putting his hand on the tap. "Hot." I say and watch his back. Last time I didn't noticed but he has big scars all over his back, some even on his chest. He must see my face cause he asks me "What's wrong?" I shake my head and try to smile.

"Nothing." I see it in his eyes that he doesn't buy my lie but doesn't push me either. As the warm water hits my skin, I sigh in relief. I let my hair get wet and wash off the makeup I had on. While I did so, Mattheo stands right behind me, his hands on my hips, scanning my face.

I open my eyes and see him looking. " What?" I ask grinning. " You're beautiful." I roll my eyes and look away again, trying to hide my blush. "You don't have to try to get into my pants. You already are." He turns me around and holds my face. " Hey.. I really mean it. And not just your body. Your face is prettier than the ones of angels." My eyes widen at his words, not expecting that kind of words from him.

He clears his throat and looks away for a moment himself. That's when I grab his face in both my hands and crash my lips into his. The kiss is hungry, more passionate and different than the last times. More tender.

One of his hands slide up and down my back, while the other lays on my hip. "You make me crazy, princess." he admits, mumbling against my lips. I smile into the kiss. "Don't go soft Mattheo." I say, teasing him.

He starts kissing my neck, but less soft and more aggressively now. "Remember who's in charge here baby. I would choose your words wisely." He lifts me up so I wrap my legs around his waist. "This time I wanna see your face when I fuck you."

He takes his cock into his hand and positions it at my entrance, teasing me with it. „Mattheo come on, fuck me.." i huff out frustrated. "Beg for it, wanna hear you beg again like the last time I fucked you." I roll my eyes at his ego, but still do as he tells me to. "Please, I'm already begging you to fuck me."

Ge grins down at me and slowly pushes inside me, holding eye contact the whole time. His lips part and his eyes get lazy. "Fuck, you feel just as good as the first time I fucked you stupid."

I want to bite back but only bite my lip as he starts thrusting in a fast and hard pace. "What was that? I'm going soft princess?" His grip on my hips gets tighter and he starts kissing my neck up and down. " N-no you're not.." I whimper, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back against the wall.

What was is that he had me under his control so much? Not even a single brain cell told me to not do as he says. I can't with this boy..

His lips work their way up to my ear and he whispers "I'm a man baby, a boy wouldn't fuck you like I do. " Goosebumps erupt over my body and again he's right. " Stop messing around in my head." I growl lightly, supressing a moan in my throat. "You're all mine. I don't give a shit about how you see that, cause I know your body screams for mine every night. And it will never get someone else's. Do you understand?"

He stops kissing my neck and looks at me while thrusting his hips against mine. A shiver run down my spine as I looked into his eyes, but this time not a good one. It was ice cold. I never saw him looking tat serious and cold. Possesive. "Do. You. Under. Stand." he asks me again, deep and hard thrust for every word.

"God yes, Mattheo. I understand!" I cry out as his fingers find their way towards my clit, rubbing it in circles. My nails leave marks all over his back, drawing a little blood.

He starts hissing but laughing at the same time at the pain. He's gonna be the death of me. "No, you're gonna be mine, princess. Do that again with your nails, turns me on." As I don't, he mumbles a quite "okay" and presses me harder against the shower wall, fucking me even deeper and more brutal. My nails find their way back inside his skin and I'm sure If we had been o the bed It would be broken by now.

"When are you gonna learn to not be a little brat, huh?" he asks, a smirk on his face. "I own you now, baby." I let out half a snort half a chuckle. " Do I own you then too?" I ask sarcastically. " You own every inch of me."

My face falls a little at his answer, not expecting it. Did he mean that?But as soon as my thoughts started, I forgot them as he starts to rub my clit even harder, but in a steady rhythm.

"Oh yeah look at that in pleasure twisting face, that's fucking it." he groans, his thrust becoming more erratic. One hand leaves my hip and wraps itself around my throat, squeezing it with the perfect amount of pressure. A broken scream leaves my lips with my eyes rolling back.

"Yeah scream so loud Cormac hears who‘s name you‘re moaning tonight." I press my lips together but he squeezes my throat tighter. My walls clench around him, making him lose his control, eyes rolling back a bit with a smile to it. "I love that pussy so much fuck.I bet he can't fuck you like I can, huh?"

This time my answer comes in a instant. " No- no he can't. I'm so close Mattheo, please." I moan as I feel this deep twisting feeling in my stomach. His lips meet mine, to my surprise. Unlike how he fucks, he kisses me soft and passionate. "Come around me baby.Please fucking come around me." he groans almost desperate.

And just like that I let go and let the feeling of my orgasm overflow me. "Hm shit.. can I come inside you baby?" Mattheo pants against my lips while he looks down between us. I just nod quickly, feeling him coming inside me a few seconds later. "Shit.." a whimper leaves his lips as he fills me up.

My stomach twists again at the sound so I look at him and scan his face for a moment. I think that's the hottest sound my ears ever came across. He looks fucked out too, his eyes heavy.

He slowly pulls out but still holds me. "You make me so addicted." he confesses to me, looking between my eyes and lips. I had to. " So you're going soft now again?" I tease him, out of breath.

He chuckles lowly which ends with me bent over every single surface in his room.

I don't know how long I can survive in that.

—

I just know ya‘ll hate and love me for posting this.. after weeks :) <3

There‘s gonna be a part 3, the final then. Hehe.

Taglist: @idk-simra @kindnessspreads @purplegardenwhispers @glittervame @oxi8 @lovelyygirl8 @yakosobaboba | thank you for supporting guys 🫶🏻

I created a Tag List Form if you‘re interested: Taglist Form

xoxo sarah <3

[vivwritesfics]

Hii!! Could you please write a Max verstappen x soulmate reader. Like they can speak in each other's minds and how they first met. Like fluff or angst or whatever you want . You make the call. Please 🥺🥺

LMAOOOO IM LITERALLY WRITING THIS FOR RHETT ABBOTT

Nothing, just an inchident. Fucking asshole.

Those were the first words her soulmate ever said to her, the first time she heard his voice in her head. She stopped what she was doing, looking around with wide eyes.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

And that was how it started. The two had be so fucking surprised, buy recovered quickly. They gave awkward introductions, without actually telling each other anything about themselves.

It took the two of them a moment to realise that, whatever they thought, the other person could hear.

It seemed the two of them hadn't shut up since.

She learnt pretty quickly that he loved to talk, that he loved explaining things. He was a nerd, he loved gaming. She could have listened to him go on about gaming for hours (and she often did).

She couldn't remember what she had told him. Definitely everything but her name. God, how long had it been since his voice first entered her head.

Hey, she said as she woke up.

There was usually no response as she waited for him to wake up. She'd tried to use this to work out where in the world he was, but he was always moving, always on different time zones.

A few hours later, there he was. Hello, schat, he said in her mind. A small smile crossed her face. Are you doing anything nice today?

He rarely spoke about his own day, she noticed. But it wasn't a problem. If he wanted to her know, she'd know. My dad got me tickets to see my local race with him, she replied, pausing her makeup to concentrate on talking to him.

There was a beat before he responded. You still there? She asked, pausing on her eye liner.

What race? Cars or horses?

Cars, she responded.

Again, there was a moment of silence. But then, Not the Formula One, right?

She thought back to what her father had told her. Yeah, the Formula One.

Her soulmate when quiet after that. There was a good few hours where she finished getting ready and went with her father to the race track. All that time she'd been trying to talk to her soulmate, and all that time she'd been getting nothing in return.

It was a little disheartening, thinking her soulmate didn't want to talk to her.

No, it was really disheartening.

As she and her father sat in the stands, she couldn't help but sulk. What had she done to upset him so bad he didn't want to hear from her? Of course he could hear everything she was thinking, but she didn't much care if he wasn't going to reply.

But then all twenty cars were on the track and the lights were flashing red, ready to go green.

I'm going to win this one for you.

It had been so unexpected, it nearly had her jumping out of her seat. What? Are you here?

As soon as I'm standing on that podium, you'll know it's me.

She must have realised it then, that her soulmate was down in the number on Red Bull car. She didn't take her eyes off of it for the entirety of the race (unless she was forced to). Holy shit, that was her soulmate down there.

And he did win it. Won it for her. She watched it all, him finishing first, the podium celebrations.

How do I get to you? She asked as she hopelessly looked around. Max Verstappen was her freaking soulmate!

Stay right where you are, schat. I'll come to you.

She told him where she was, apparently able to do that now she knew for sure who her soulmate was. And there she waited as he finished a debrief with the team and got changed.

But then he was striding towards her, cap pulled low. For so many years he'd been just a voice in her head. And now he was in front of her. Smiling down at her with surprise in his eyes.

"You're beautiful." Those were the first words he said to her, the first words that weren't echoing around her head.

"So are you." Wiping her hands on her jeans, she held one out and gave him her name.

Max took her hand and shook. "I'm Max," he said, wearing his usual pretty smile.

Holy fuck, Max Verstappen really was her soulmate.

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 3 | spencer reid.

Spencer wanted this date to go perfectly, he wanted to treat you like a princess and maybe even land a second date... but why is Hotch calling?

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 4

cw: fem!reader, kissing, slight angst, fluffy

a/n: kicking my feet fr

You started getting ready two hours earlier than you normally would.

Sure, you had been on dates before, but you could confidently say you’d never been this excited to go on a date before. You’d been on the odd blind date that your friend from back home set up, but they usually went as well as you’d expect a date with a misogynistic frat boy with mommy issues to go… not great. After Spencer had walked you home, and called to ask you out for dinner, you were utterly giddy. 

You barely got any sleep that night, your mind and heart racing a mile a minute thinking about the kiss you shared outside your apartment building. You spent the most of the afternoon picking out an outfit, staring at your body in the mirror while you turned side on, front on, side on again to make sure your ass looked good (it did).

You asked Spencer to tell you where he was taking you, because you really didn’t want to be underdressed or overdressed. He insisted it was nothing fancy but a man’s idea of fancy and a woman’s idea of fancy are very different things.

You picked something that felt like the best of both worlds, a semi-formal mini dress and dressed down with your favourite knitted cardigan. You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready, styling your hair, picking jewellery and shoes and doing your makeup. 

You had been excited the whole day but as 6pm got closer and closer, you started to get nervous. It had been a while since you’d gone on a date with someone you felt you really liked and wanted to impress, it was a strange feeling.

Spencer knocked on your door at exactly 6pm. You were in the middle of pulling applying your lipgloss when he knocked. You cursed quietly to yourself, thinking you had way more time than you actually did. You’d hoped he’d be at least a little bit late. He was a genius though, punctuality was kind of his thing. 

You almost tripped over your shoes running to the front door, a cleaning task you would tackle when you got home. You pulled the door open with a smile beaming across your face. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Spencer’s precious face peeking over a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Hi,” he said softly with a tight lipped smile. He held the tulips out toward you, “for you.”

“Spencer…” you pouted at the gesture, taking the tulips from his grasp. “They’re so beautiful.”

“Garcia said flowers would make a good impression,” he lied, he actually read a considerable amount of articles and first date guides all day at work. But Garcia did help him pick the flowers.

“Well, she was right. Tulips are my favourite,” you grinned, turning back into your apartment to find and fill a vase. “Come in, I won’t be a minute, I just need to put my shoes on and grab my purse.”

Spencer awkwardly stepped into your apartment, glancing around at the now fully decorated space, a far cry from what it looked like just 3 weeks ago. You quickly went to put your shoes on and put some money, your lipgloss and perfume in your purse. You closed the door to your bedroom and paused, staring at Spencer as he squatted down and rubbed Tofu’s belly.

“Made a new friend?” You asked.

Spencer smiled with utter delight, “She’s so fluffy.”

You giggled at Spencer’s response, grabbing the keys for your apartment off the kitchen counter. Spencer dusted the cat fur off his pants before spinning on his heel to face you, “ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. You stepped closer until you were just in front of him, you reached up and adjusted his tie gently. “You look very handsome.”

His cheeks felt hot, “T-thank you… You-! You look really nice too- beautiful! You look beautiful…” he stammered, exaggeratedly gesturing at your appearance.

You giggled softly, “thank you, Spence… Shall we?”

“Yes, yes, right,” he replied, quickly scurrying to the door to open it for you.

The two of you made your way down to his car and he made a point to run ahead of you when you left your apartment building to open his passenger door for you. He was intensely determined to be a gentleman, wanting to give you a good impression so maybe you’d go on another date with him, maybe even come to Rossi’s dinner party next week. But he was getting ahead of himself, he should probably focus on the road.

��...So where are you taking me?” You asked, glancing out the car window at the city speeding by. 

“It’s one of my favourite places,” he replied, hands nervously gripping the wheel. “I… hope you like it.”

“I’m just happy to spend time with you, Spencer… We could sit on the pavement outside a seven eleven and I’d be thrilled,” you grinned, folding your hands in your lap as you watched him glance at you. You watched him for a moment, chuckling to yourself whenever he would glance down at your lap then clear his throat.

Spencer was really trying to keep his eyes on the road, but your plush thighs in the corner of his eye were proving to be very distracting. He had never had a pretty girl in his passenger seat before, especially not a girl he was taking on a date. 

Spencer drove for maybe 30 minutes before he pulled into a parking lot. Once he parked, he quickly got out of the car and did a little run around the front to open your door for you, reaching to help you out of his car.

Spencer held his elbow out for you and you linked arms, your hand gently holding his upper arm. There was a long line up outside the restaurant, people talking and laughing, clearly it was a popular spot. Spencer was stiff with nervousness, his hands clammy as you leaned your temple against his shoulder.

“You okay?” You questioned gently.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, just… I’ve never been on a proper date before.”

You pouted, “well don’t be nervous. I’m only here for you, Spence. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Spencer’s phone suddenly rang in his jacket pocket. You quickly let go of his arm as he pulled it out of his pocket, staring at Hotch’s caller ID. He hesitated for a moment, knowing it was work and he would likely have to leave. Spencer looked at you with such sadness and disappointment in his eyes.

“Work?” You asked softly.

“Yeah… But I-”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you smiled sadly. “Your job’s important.”

Spencer sighed before stepping away from the line and answering the call. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but he sounded upset given his gestures and frantic running of his hand through his hair. After a minute he hung up, slipping his phone in his pocket. He looked at you sadly, opening his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you held his face softly. “You go, I’ll get a cab, okay? And when you get back you can tell me all about how you kicked ass, okay?”

Spencer breathed out a laugh and nodded timidly, “Okay.”

“Go,” you said, letting go of his face as he quickly darted away to his car. He was almost out of sight when you watched him turn back, running back to you. He quickly planted a kiss on your lips, breathing hard against you. You smiled against his lips and held his cheek in your hand. He pulled away just as fast, your lipgloss smeared along his lips. You wiped it off with your thumb, “okay, now go.”

“I’ll call you,” he breathed, kissing your cheek quickly before running off.

It killed him leaving you there. Spencer wasn’t someone who got angry that easily but he was in a bad mood about this. He charged through the bullpen that night like a bulldozer, ready to set fire to anyone who dared ask him ‘how he was’. Morgan, JJ and Emily sensed the crankiness the moment Spencer pulled his chair out and sat down with a thud, crossing his arms angrily. 

“Rough night, lover boy?” Morgan asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Wasn’t much of a night at all, really,” Spencer retorted with an attitude.

“Woah, woah, what happened?” Emily questioned, eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I had a date, okay? That girl you met last night? Y/N? I was taking her to my favourite restaurant and then Hotch called and I-” Spencer had to stop himself before he blew up. His lips formed a tight line as he stared at the table, not daring to look up.

“Aw, Spence…” JJ sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help,” Spencer mumbled. He spent the rest of their meeting in a foul mood, barely listening to JJ as she listed the details of their next case. They were never usually called in on their days off but after almost twenty bodies, the BAU had a lot cut out for them.

“We’ll leave in two hours,” Hotch dismissed. Spencer was first up, grabbing the small stack of files and pushing toward the door to go to his desk. Morgan and Emily looked at each other, sharing a look of disbelief over Spencer’s crankiness. 

Spencer sat at his desk pushing his pen around, barely touching the cup of sugar with a splash of coffee that JJ got for him. All he could think about was how you probably wouldn’t talk to him again after this, he knew this job came with sacrifices, but he just wanted one thing, one thing, to himself.

“You okay, Reid?” Penelope asked softly. 

Spencer glanced up at her, letting out a sigh, “I was on a date with Y/N before this… We didn’t even get to sit down.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped at his words, “I’m sure you’ll be able to make it up to her,” she said hopefully. 

Spencer nodded slowly, “I hope so.”

Penelope stepped away to answer a phone call and Spencer was left feeling sorry for himself at his desk for the next 30 minutes, going through his mind the different things he could say or do to make it up to you. Maybe he should call you? Text you? Drop by when he gets back? Or maybe he could buy you another cat as a peace offering-

“Is this seat taken?”

Spencer’s head shot up from his desk, coming face to face with you, your hand resting on the empty chair by his desk.

“Y/N? What are you-”

“I called Penelope,” you answered, “She told me you weren’t leaving for another hour so… I thought I’d bring dinner?”

You held out a plastic bag of take away food from the restaurant he took you to. You asked Penelope what his favourite thing on the menu was and bought some extra for yourself. Spencer looked like a kicked puppy as he stared up at you in disbelief.

He stood up and quickly hugged you, making you chuckle at the sudden affection. You felt your face heat up at all the eyes suddenly on you and Spencer. Morgan whooped from his desk, cheering loudly and obnoxiously, prompting Spencer to pull away from you.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spence,” you replied. “You love your job and it’s important,” you shrugged, placing the plastic bag on his desk.

“God, you’re so sweet it’s killing me,” Emily grumbled, walking by with a fresh cup of coffee. She pointed at Spencer, brows raised, “keep her.”

You and Spencer shared a laugh before he pulled a chair over closer to his for you. You sat down and pulled your takeaway dinner from the plastic bag, letting Spencer tell you all about the restaurant and why this specific meal was his absolute favourite. His knees brushed against yours under his desk and he just revelled in the comfort of your company.

“So, what’s your new case?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Uh, well,” he trailed off.

“You can’t tell me, huh?” You chuckled.

“Not really, sorry,” he replied. “I’m sure it’ll be on the news tomorrow.”

“Right, well. I’m sure deep down I don’t really wanna know,” you shrugged.

He nodded, “the cases we work aren’t exactly pleasant.” Spencer sighed, “I wish we could have actually had a date.”

“This is a date,” you replied. “Is it not?”

“Well… I mean, it’s just not what I wanted for our first date.”

“Like I said Spence, you could take me to a seven eleven and I’d have a blast,” you chuckled, reaching over to run a thumb across his cheek. “You can make it up to be on our second date.”

Spencer quickly looked at you, “Second date?”

“Yeah… only if you want to?”

“Yes, yeah. I want to,” he replied almost too fast. You smiled sweetly at him, a piece of your hair falling from behind your ear. Oh yeah, he’s done for.

a/n: had you in the first half, didn't i... dare i say you've pierced his heart, HAHAHAH

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r

[januaryembrs]

I CAN SEE YOU | Spencer Reid x FBI!Reader

Request: Congrats on 2k!!! Could you write something based off of ‘I can see you’ by Taylor Swift with Spencer please?

Description: Spencer may or may not have a little thing for the desk jockey on the floor below, and she may or may not have a thing for their silent elevator rides together.

Length: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff?? Season one Spencer in mind when I wrote this (my sweetest boy)

He passed through the lobby at the exact same time every day. Usually with his head dug in an obnoxiously thick book, or fiddling with the strap on his satchel bag, or flicking his long curls out of his sweet, hazelnut eyes. Sometimes with thick round glasses perched on his slender nose, sometimes nothing but a thoughtful, musing frown. 

Not that she was obsessed with him. 

But it wasn’t hard to acknowledge that whoever the guy on the sixth floor was that seemed to stick to an incredibly tight schedule had the face of a god. 

Though she supposed he could say the same about her schedule seeing as they seemed to enter the elevator at nearly the exact same time every single day, never saying a word, a brief nod of hello was about the extent of their interaction. One time he had pressed the button for her floor, number five, for her, and she hadn’t stopped smiling the rest of the day. 

Of course there were times he and his team would be away on a case, in which she wouldn’t see him for days on end, while she went to her lonely desk in forensics no matter what case had come up.

In the grand scheme of things, she was a desk jockey, inputting numbers and data and figures, organising files and sheets and loading ink into the printer. She was a nobody and he was part of the BAU. 

No one would even notice if she didn’t show up for the day. At least that was what she hoped as she sped walked out of the cab, her hair soaking down her back, her lungs puffing in a crackling wheeze, frantically tucking her tight shirt into her dogtooth pants, limping on her ankle that she’d rolled racing out her apartment building into the raging storm that had overcome Virginia in a matter of hours. 

She felt socks wet through as she squelched her way into the elevator, barely noticing the usual passenger that was tracing a bony finger down the page of Pride and Prejudice, quickly flicking over the page in a matter of five seconds. 

He looked up when she hopped in beside him, squeezing in as a handful of other people followed her. Trying desperately to even her hair out in the large mirror behind them, it was only then she realised her mascara had smudged down her cheeks entirely, making her look like she’d slept in a pile of charcoal. 

“Fuck,” She said loudly, her hand slapping over her mouth when she realise the deadly silent elevator full of federal agents turned to look at her, and she felt her cheeks heat as if her makeup condundrum hadn’t been embarrassing enough, “S-sorry,” She muttered, turning her head to the ground as she frantically wiped beneath her lids with her cardigan sleeve. 

Turning to see if he had noticed, she caught him staring right at her, and she could have sworn the heat on her face blazed even harder when she saw he was smiling into his book in amusement. 

Fuck. She repeated in her head this time, taking a small sigh of relief when the doors opened on the first floor and half the passengers trickled out onto the finance floor. 

She was still fixing her hair by the time they got to the second floor, communications, and even more people got out. By the end of the third floor, it was just the two of them left. 

“Bad morning?” He broke the silence, and it was the first time she’d ever actually heard his voice. He was even dreamier than she’d thought, in a boyish kind of way.

“Car battery died, and the bus was full,” She murmured, fiddling with the hem of her sleeves that were entirely sodden, “And then apparently someone up there hates to see pretty girls get to work looking dry and respectable,” 

He chuckled properly, and she swore it soothed the ache of the cold rain just the smallest bit. 

“Don’t we all,” He mused, though his eyes went back to his book, flicking over the words faster than she figured would be possible. 

She figured he didn’t want to be bothered by the drowned rat looking woman that had all but thrown herself into the lift beside him, interrupting his reading with her curses and pitiful glances. 

It was only when they reached the fourth floor that he quickly rooted around his bag for something, likely a bookmark since he didn’t seem the type to dog-ear a perfectly neat page. It wasn’t until a soft, moss green sweater was thrust in her face she snapped out of her self loathing daze.

Looking at him wide eyed, he nudged it towards her hands, and it was like Spencer only just realised that offering a stranger your clothes was perhaps not normal, but he didn’t feel like they were strangers.

She was the first person he’d ever met in the building besides Gideon. He remembered the two of them stepping into the elevator, the bashful woman already flicking through files, her lanyard hanging low over her chest as she chirped good morning to Gideon and he did the same, wishing her a good day when she stepped out onto floor five. 

He couldn’t help if he was so perceptive he’d clocked her name and position written on her ID, couldn’t help it if he was a huge fan of routine and repetition, that he purposely walked into the lobby at the same time every day knowing she was going to be right behind him just for an excuse to see her. 

No, they certainly weren’t strangers, Spencer tried to reason, yet he wasn’t even sure she knew his name.

“T-take it,” He stuttered, watching the doors close and the lift jolt as it ascended to her floor, “You can just bring it back tomorrow,” 

“That’s- I couldn’t,” She reasoned, her eyes fretful, “It’s yours,”

“I’m not using it, you must be freezing,” Spencer reiterated it with another nudge towards her, and he saw the longing glance she gave at the promise of warmth. 

Number five dinged above them, and the doors slid open. 

“Just take it, please,” He said, and it seemed like that was the magic word as she cautiously took it out of his hand, and melted when she realised it was softer than she’d thought, like it was made to feel like a giant hug. 

“Thankyou…” She said, heading for the doors with slow steps; she didn’t want to leave whatever moment he’d caught her in. 

“Spencer,” He replied, smiling at her with a shy cadence. 

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She said, and gave him her own name back. But he already knew it, and he realised he would sound like a complete creepy stalker if he’d said so. So he just nodded, a small wave off as she headed for her office and the doors closed behind her. 

He loved how she said his name, he thought blissfully, but he loved even more showing up to work day after to see her waiting by the elevator, his sweater washed and ironed, pressed neatly in her hands and still warm from where she’d tumble dried it. 

She handed it back to him with a sheepish smile, and he took it gracefully, catching a whiff of her fabric softener and felt fuzzy inside right there and then. 

“Good morning, Spencer,” She said sweetly, and he swore he wanted to kiss her the minute it left her lips, glossed with something rouge and shiny. 

But he didn’t, he just said it back, loving how her name rolled over his tongue. 

[elihermit]

lost in the memories

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: after the incident at work where Buck had to rescue you, you ended up in coma and relieved every moment of your relationship with Buck

word count: 2,1k

note from the writer: i’m so excited to finally share my first imagine with you! i’m taking requests 🫧

Breath in and breathe out. That’s what Buck always said when you start panicking and feel anxious. But today this panic was not over missing a deadline for your task at work, it wasn’t something you could easily fix.

You work as a psychologist who helps your patients get through the trauma of the past and find the strength to move on.

The day started as usual: morning kisses and cuddles with Buck, breakfast, I love you's, and you both went to work. But then everything is just blank, you didn't even get a chance to take your first patient or maybe you did? You can’t even remember.

You woke up at your apartment, cuddling your favorite toy, you got it when you were 9 years old and since then — it’s your lucky charm. You look at your screen to check the time — “8am”. Good, you have time to grab the breakfast at your favorite spot.

Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, put on some makeup and you’re ready to go.

“Good morning, (Y/N)! Let me guess, latte with raspberry syrup and English breakfast?” — it was Alice, the waitress in your favorite spot. You go here almost every day and you truly can say that she became your friend.

“Good morning, Alice! Yes, you know I can’t start my day without you teasing me and my favorite coffee to get through this.” — you can’t help but smile, she really knows how to highlight your day.

“Of course.” — Alice smiled. “How many patients do you have today? I think I need to make you two coffees.” — she remembered when yesterday you had 5 patients and you came back to the cafe to buy one extra coffee. You loved your job, but sometimes it was too much even for your professional head. Poor people, they don’t deserve to live with all of those traumas.

“Yes please. You’re an angel!” — you gave her a grateful look and agreed on her offer.

Now you have 30 minutes to eat your breakfast and the place was so packed, you were lucky to take the table the moment you walked into the cafe.

About halfway through enjoying your breakfast and making your schedule for tomorrow, you heard someone approaching you.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, but could I please sit with you? There’s no empty table and I think I will actually go nuts if I don’t eat.” — you raise your head and it was the most gorgeous man you have ever laid your eyes on. Pretty blue eyes, brown hair and the body of Greek God. Fuck, you stared too long, gotta answer quickly.

“Of course. I got you, this morning anger because of being hungry is not very cutesy.” — you laughed and pointed at the seat in front of you.

“Oh my god, yes! Thank you so much, my co-workers just got saved from my rudeness by…” — he sat down and didn’t finish his sentence so you could tell him your name.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. Happy to help, we don’t want to give your co-workers some traumas.” — you chuckled. God, you can’t forget about your work even when you have free time.

“That’s very true.” — he laughed. “I’m Evan, but you can call me Buck.” — the way he smiled… This image definitely won’t leave your head.

Suddenly, everything went dark. It’s like there was only one lamp that shined on your table. Buck started crying. You never heard any man cry like this. So much pain, desperation and suffering. With his head on his hands, you could see how his shoulders trembled with every cry.

He raised his head and looked into your eyes with so much sadness.

“Please, come back to me.”

Darkness. You move your finger. Why can you move ONLY your finger? What’s going on? It doesn’t feel right. You can’t see, you can’t move, you can’t speak and hear. Just darkness.

You open the door. Here he is, in all of his glory. Your partner, your love, your friend and your boyfriend in one person.

“Okay, I got every snack you like, you ready for our movie night?” — there’s a big bag of goods in front of Buck and he’s smiling like The Cheshire Cat.

You smile and pull him into the kiss. The sweetest kiss you have ever had. The best lips you have ever tasted. You already knew it would end up being Netflix & Chill.

“I missed you so much.” — you say into his lips and he gives you one more kiss before leading you to the couch.

You sat on the couch immediately getting trapped in his embrace. You didn’t mind at all. There’s no place in the world where you would rather be.

“Did you pick a movie? It’s your turn today, baby.” — you loved your tradition when at least 2-3 times a week you have movie nights. Last time you watched a movie called… You actually can’t remember, making love to each other sounded better after 15 minutes into the movie.

“Yes.” — he makes you look into his face. “Come back to me.”

Darkness. What the fuck is going on? You can feel you squeeze someone’s hand but you can’t see anything. Is that some kind of dream? More like a nightmare actually. Why are you getting pulled out of the most happiest moments of your life?

Buck. You feel so scared without him, you feel so alone. You want to scream “I’m here!”, but not a single word comes out of your mouth. That must be some kind of horrible joke.

You look into the mirror one more time and notice Buck staring at you with a smile.

“Okay, baby, first of all — you know you can stare and touch.” — you said with a smirk and Buck immediately made his way over you. He put his hands on your waist and yours gently fell on his neck. “Secondly, remind me again why we’re gathering in the middle of the week?”

You took a day off, because Buck was convincing you that no one has any other free day and only today they can all meet up together. Honestly, you loved being at Bobby’s and Athena’s house, especially when everyone was there too. Eddie with Christopher, Hen with Karen, Chim with Maddie. It’s like having a second family and you were grateful that they accepted you and loved you as much as Buck loves you.

“(Y/N), I told you it’s the only day when everyone is actually free.” — he said and kissed you. “And to be honest, I just wanted one more day off for you, you were working your ass off past weeks.”

True. For some reason you took more patients than usual and it was exhausting two weeks. Buck is always worried when you overwork yourself, so you didn’t hesitate long when he asked you to take a day off, you felt like you needed that too.

The evening was going great. Everyone is talking, laughing, dancing and eating. It was the most fun days when you all meet up together and Buck knew you loved it. So when Buck asked everyone to give him a little attention, you giggled, because usually it was the beginning of Buck doing something funny.

“Yeah, I know you all are probably expecting me to do a back flip.” — everyone laughed. “But today is a bit different. Not gonna lie, probably it was the hardest task in my life to keep everything a secret.” — you furrowed your brows, what secret?

But Buck continued.

“(Y/N), can you stand next to me, please?” — you’re confused, but you did what he asked. “My love, I know you’re confused and probably thinking that I had too many drinks. And I might be drunk, but I’m drunk in love. The moment I saw you in that cafe, I knew I couldn’t lose you. Honestly, the waitress said that there will be an empty table in 5 minutes, but I still chose to sit with you. Because how could I not?”

You started to realize. Is he… proposing? The love of your life is proposing to you?

“Buck…” — you could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Baby, I can’t imagine my life without you and can’t even remember my life before you, that’s how well you filled all the missing pieces. So…” — Buck got on one knee, pulled a pretty little velvet box out of his pocket and asked the most important question that you didn’t even know you needed to hear. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” — you froze, tears started streaming down your cheeks. All the love you had for Buck just got 10 times stronger.

“Yes!” — you smiled happily and fell on your knees to kiss Buck.

He pulled the ring out of the box, carefully placing it on your finger and looked into your eyes.

“Then please, (Y/N)… Come back to me.”

Darkness. Honestly, you’re getting tired of this. You either died or got trapped in the most fucked up dream. And knowing that you don’t really have dreams, there’s only one option left. Are you actually dying? This can’t be real, right?

In the past 3 years your life has finally fallen into the right places. You met Buck, work was going great, you’re supposed to marry the love of your life… You cannot miss that. “Till death do us apart” doesn’t mean that you have to die so soon. You need to come back!

“My love, I know you probably don’t hear me, but I can’t do it without you.” — you heard the echo in this pitch blackness. It was Buck. “We had so much ahead of us, do you remember? We wanted to buy the house, I wanted to surprise you with the best honeymoon, we wanted to start trying on our own bab-“ — his voice broke, you heard sobs.

Your breathing has become heavier. You could feel your chest rising. Can you just open your eyes? You can’t leave Buck like this, you can’t leave your new family. You need to come back, you had so much ahead of you. Wedding, kids, travels, joy, being a wife and mother.

You heard another echo.

“Please, baby, just please come back to me…”

NOW! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!

You could feel your eyes trembling. Darkness was replaced by white light. Heaven? There is definitely no smell of medicines in heaven.

Slowly, you open your eyes. So slow that it doesn't scare away reality.

The first image you see when you open your eyes and move your head to your right is Buck. He squeezes your hand with his head almost on the hospital bed. He’s still sobbing. It broke your heart into a million pieces. He didn’t deserve to go through this.

“Buck…” — you whisper. You can’t talk any louder, because your mouth is so dry. But he heard you.

Buck raised his head and met your eyes. You’re awake. You’re actually awake. One moment he was in hell, now he’s praising God for bringing you back.

“You came back…” — he smiled with his puffy eyes.

“How could I not? I heard you wanted me back at least four times.” — you chuckled tiredly, making jokes was your defense mechanism against difficulties.

“I thought I lost you, these 4 days were the hardest time of my entire life…” — he wanted to continue, but you interrupted him.

“4 days? W-what happened?” — you couldn’t believe it, you were out for 4 days.

“The building where you work collapsed. There was a mistake made when designing the building and it just fucking collapsed. I found you under the concrete slabs.”

Of course he was the one who rescued you. Your hero. On one hand you were happy that it’s him who saved you, but on the other he probably blames himself for not doing more, for not providing the proper safety. But let’s be honest, he did everything he could and you’re so grateful for that.

“Thank you for saving me.” — tears falling down your cheeks and you’re just happy to be back to him. To your lifeline.

He didn’t say anything, just got up and placed the most gentle kiss on your lips. Almost like he was afraid he could break you and you would vanish, that’s why you placed your hand on his cheek as a confirmation that you’re really here with him.

“So, what’s the best honeymoon you wanted to surprise me with?” — you said into his lips.

“You really heard everything?” — he asked confusedly, you giggled and kissed him once more.

Time to make more memories together.

[birdyisthewordyy]

HELLOOO this is my first request.. 😔

Like can you make a thing where the reader (please make it a fem reader for this one) is mascular fem reader and how the mouthwash crew will be react or be with the reader😻

if you can do this pleasee do it!! This has been just on my mind..

(I'm sorry if I couldn't describe it pretty well but I hope you understand it👅🙏)

a/n: I went ahead and combined two asks because they were pretty similar I HOPE THATS OKAY!! ANYWAY I love these askS MUSCULAR WOMEN FTW

Tulpar crew with a muscular! Fem! Reader

Curly

He can still lift you up easy peasy

Loves doing weightlifting with you

Brags on you

“My girlfriend can bench press 400!”

When you get sore he runs a hot bath for you

With rose petals and Epsom salts

Watches movies with you and gives you massages

Anything for his girl

You two have a friendly competition to see how much you can lift

The gym hates to see y’all coming

Or loves to

You kind of brighten up the atmosphere with your mushy couple junk

Y’all are matched in arm wrestling

You try every day

Never works

You just stay there with your arms shaking

Lol

He’s ecstatic to have another workout buddy though

Especially one that doesn’t take it as seriously as Jimmy

Jimmy

Speak of the devil himself

He’s jealous

Right off the bat he’s jealous of you

Because he could never achieve that physique

His metabolism is too fast

And it pisses him off

He eventually comes around

Makes underhanded comments sometimes though

Meanie

He might weightlift with you

You’re a good spotter he has to admit

Encouraging and all that

Despite how jacked you are you are pretty feminine

Which he enjoys

He likes that you dress up and do makeup and all that

And if you’re not he appreciates how…

Eugh

“Drama free” you are

One of those guys

Yikes

You love him though

Swansea

Swansea didn’t grow up in a generation where women could just pick up a weight and start growing muscle

Despite this he thinks it’s badass

He’d never say that but he does

Appreciates your commitment

Maybe even attracted to it idk

An excellent cook so he makes things for you if you’re hungry after lifting

Makes banger soups

He’s pretty strong himself

But doesn’t work out too often

Just enough and if he feels like it

He’s got a bad back so nothing crazy

Take this man to a chiropractor

If you use protein powder he doesn’t understand it

“Back in my day we had to work for what we got!”

You try to explain it’s not like steroids

But he is NOT having it

Sometimes you go overboard though

And he does worry for you

“Just…be careful, alright? Don’t want you exhausting yourself on me.”

Daisuke

Daisuke is also just a little bit jealous

He gets over it though

He buys you one of those giant water bottles that have words of encouragement on the sides

Says it’s like he’s there with you

You love this boy

Would be like

“Oh yeah? Can YOUR partner do 50 pushups? (Name), show em!”

Makes you personalized playlists

Eye of the Tiger is definitely on there

Along with Wheels on the Bus

He giggles when he hears it coming from your headphones

You just look at him like WTF

Would be your spotter

Very encouraging

“You can do it! Two more!”

Fists in the air

Tries to fist bump you

You are exhausted I fear

Would sit on your back while you do push-ups

To prove a point

What point? Idk

Anya

Anya has tried working out in the past and never really got into a routine

She’s a little bit out of shape so she’s at least happy that you know what you’re doing

Buys you sweatbands with pretty little designs on them

Also makes you protein shakes in the morning

Without you asking

May try to work out with you

Gets extremely sore though

Anya with a ponytail is cute tho

She can’t do push-ups

Like physically she just collapses

It’s not even that she’s weak

She’s actually quite strong physically

And mentally too but that’s not the point

She almost beat you once in arm wrestling

She just gets tired easily

Little chubby

Totally not projecting again

Hee hee

[kissitbttr]

a very tiny fic of frat!miguel pining on cheerleader!y/n in college. might expand, we’ll see ;)

-

fucking. frat parties, man,

you hate it. despise it even. what’s so good about them anyway other than the fact watching dumb boys in snapbacks making a fool of themselves with drinking games?

definitely not your scene, but unluckily for you—it has always been your friends favorite thing to look forward to,

“you need to cut yourself some slack babe. this party will do you good! i promise!”

rolling your eyes, you slip on one of your favorite heels before glaring at her. “doubt it but thanks for the positivity”

“maybe todd will be there and you guys will catch up?”

“like hell we will” you scoff, walking towards the dressing table to pamper yourself,

“that shit is history, he’s a fucking dead man”

a certified douche bag, that’s what todd is. dated him in sophomore year and the relationship went for about six months before calling it quits because he had his tongue down some other girl’s throat and he had the nerve to blame it on you,

you were pretty much done with men at that point,

“she’s right” one of your friends, gloria points out. “you guys forgot what that asshole did to her, hm?”

“but” one girl steps in. “people change, right?”

you and gloria exchange looks, biting back a mocking smile at how innocent and naive the girl sounds. however, you shake your head at gloria, telling her to hold it in.

“yeah, sure” you shrug at her question, busying yourself with makeups as the other girls from behind you continue with their chatting,

“what about miguel? that tall sexy one”

your hand freezes at the name, as a collective of ooh’s and dreamy sighs fall upon your ears. yet you dismiss it anyway,

“and what about him?”

lyla, the pixie haired cut girl chimes in. “wasn’t he the one who blew you a kiss during the football game? you know, when you were cheering”

it was the championship game, one after finals had ended. you and your cheerleading team were on the sidelines doing the stunts. one of the duties of being one was to cheer for your home team. being extra perky and all smiley,

he scored another touchdown within the last ten seconds, in which the crowd had erupted into loud cheers. this man sure got some speed on his feet,

you clapped your poms poms together, jumping in excitement while yelling out his jersey number. the rest of the girls are doing the same thing, some even louder than others. leading the crowd to loudly chant his last name,

miguel took his helmet off, smiling proudly at the full audience while bumping his chest with his fist. then his eyes landed on you, smile going wider as he watched you cheer for his team,

then he did it. blew you a kiss as he waved. mouthing a ‘that one’s for you’ before winking, in which you only rolled your eyes at the respond. you truly had no time entertaining another heartbreaker on campus.

that man maybe devilishly handsome and charming, but he also shared some highly disturbing amounts of girls in his dorm,

or so you have heard.

his friend jogged towards him, clasping his hand around miguel’s shoulder,

“new girlfriend, o’hara? or looking for a quick fuck?”

if it was any other circumstances, he’d punch him for saying that about you. but he was far too entranced by your beauty to actually give a shit. instead he smiled, eyes refused sto leave yours as he watched your body move.

“girlfriend. working on it, compá”

his voice is confident. almost like he’s sure that you’ll be his. and you will

miguel finds you to be far more intriguing than the rest. beautiful, top of the class, fucking funny too. ever since he had exchanged a couple words with you during one the class you both shared, you pretty much occupy his mind from there.

and he had watched you punch one of the guys at his party one time so safe to say you’re the reason why his dick is hard for the rest of the night

“not only that. he touched down and said it was for you, didn’t he?! ugh! i am so freaking jealous!”

it’s almost funny how hopeless romantic most of your friends are. i mean sure, you are too, who isn’t? but you would argue that if it wasn’t coming from miguel, those girls probably won’t be swooning like right now,

“you both are overreacting. he was just in the heat of the moment.”

“nuh uh” gloria shakes her head in disagreement, scoffing with a small smirk. “she’s right, that boy wants you. he wants you bad. like ‘24/7 deep dick inside your pussy and won’t let you walk straight after fucking’ wants you”

“a very… vivid detail, gloria…” you widen your eyes with a laugh while the other girls agree. “but okay”

“how do you even know that?”

“beck said so” she shrugs, making you look at her with a deadpan expression. “what? me and him went back to fucking, don’t judge me!”

a snort escapes your lips, tugging the lipgloss back out of your makeup pouch before unscrewing the tube,

“he’s like a total player, no? i don’t think i could get together with a man who sticks his dick into any hole”

“that’s not true. they’re just rumors”

“yeah, wasn’t dana the only girl he had ever dated?”

“no that was xina. dana fucked his brother”

“what?!”

“isn’t it the other way around?”

“i’ve never seen him with girls that often. your opinion could be wrong y/n”

you brush it off and let the girls gossip in the back. whether it’s true or not, staying away would probably better. after todd, you don’t think you can afford another heartbreak.

fucking. men

-

the party had started a few hours ago, and it’s packed. a lot of students come and start filling up the house, the sound of asap rocky’s ‘frat rules’ booming through the speakers.

it’s not even close to midnight but miguel already spot a few kids getting drunk and throwing up in the backyard making him winces in disgust. he has told a few of his friends to keep an eye for broken furnitures but he doubts any of them listen,

they’re far too busy exchanging saliva with some of the girls from the sorority,

“yo o’hara! beer pong later! you’re on my team!”

peter, one of his frat brothers yells. miguel looks over his shoulder to see him standing by the pong table with the others, he has his arm around a red haired girl’s shoulder.

miguel flashes a smile, head shaking as he fixes himself a beer from the keg. “count me out, parker. go find other team player”

“oh boo! you’re no fun these days, o’hara! don’t tell me you’re standing by to see if she’s coming?”

“wait, miguel’s crushing on someone?” the red haired asks

“i told you babe, it’s the girl from cheerleading team”

miguel doesn’t respond, because peter is right. he has been scanning over the room, pacing back to back to see if you’re here yet. a disappointment sigh leaves his mouth each time he fails to find you,

his frat brothers think he’s gone crazy. because why would he get himself so worked up over one girl when there’s dozens of others lining up to get dicked down by him? pretty ones even,

but that’s the thing, miguel doesn’t find hooking up to be something that needs to be praised for. why would he pat himself on the back for screwing half of the sorority sisters? or bet on who gets to be the lucky bastard to get into the quiet girl’s panties?

gross. that’s for sure. but it seems that his brothers think otherwise. he has no say in that, obviously. to each their own.

“she’s coming, dude. chill. you’ve been eyeing the goddamn door non-stop” beck chuckles, sipping on his beer can

he ignores him, clicking the tongue against his teeth. “you told gloria, right? to bring her here?”

“i did. so stop worrying. enjoy for a bit”

beck leaves him with that, not before bumping miguel’s shoulder lightly with his fist, leaving miguel with his brows furrowed and lip in a small pout,

‘where are you?’ he thinks,

“hey miguel”

a feminine voice pulls him out of the trance, in which he quirks an eyebrow and notices a short haired girl appears by his side, dragging her long manicured nails down his bicep,

“not interested” he shoots her a quick glare before averting his gaze back towards the door,

the girl pouts, taking the bold move by resting her temple against his shoulder in which he shakes her off causing her to gasp,

“the fuck o’hara?!”

“i told you. not interested. beat it” he downs his red solo cup before scrunching it, licking his lips. “go find another guy to bang”

she huffs at that, stomping her feet like a child like her parents refuses to give her candy,

“i mean it. move, i am not—“

“y/n! gloria! you two made it!”

that does it for him. soon as he hears your name falls from beck’s mouth, his gaze never moves quicker. seeing his frat brother by the entrance, greeting gloria with a kiss and you’re standing by gloria’s side with a small smile,

oh god, you.

who looks absolutely breathtaking tonight. adorned in a pretty pink dress that hugs your curves in the right way, your makeup is light and he’s thankful for that. long thick hair fall against your back, leaving your shoulders exposed,

simple yet look so expensive,

miguel pays no mind to the girl besides him, simply just walking away. he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the people who congratulates him on the win as he strides closer to you,

“y/n y/l/n… what a sight for sore eyes it is to see you, muñeca”

a familiar voice saying your name makes your head turn, seeing who it is. the head of fraternity. miguel o’hara,

he has his arms crossed, causing his biceps to bulge a bit, making him look bigger than he already is. you eye the outfit he has on. a black muscle tank and grey sweatpants. chocolate hair tucked into a bright red snapback that he props on backwards,

he shoots you a flirty smirk, walking a little bit closer just enough to create a small gap between the two of you,

“miguel o’hara” you speak his name, faking a smile. “surprised to see you still sticking around here. i thought you’d be by your room already, pleasuring another girl”

he winces playfully, hand over his heart pretending to be hurt. “ouch, muñeca” a small chuckles leaves his mouth as he watches you roll your eyes, “always with the horrible assumptions. care to play nice this time?”

you glance at him with a scoff. “we both know that’s a fact. you always leave with a girl, don’t you?” you question, eyebrows furrowing as you tilt your head to the side,

he hums, scanning the room before looking back at you. “false. but i’ll let you believe what you want to believe, muñeca.”

you try to guess if he’s being sarcastic with it or actually telling the truth, and you swear it’s the latter. however, you refuse to fall for it,

“what do you want, o’hara?” you sigh, sipping on the beer gloria had offered earlier,

with a chuckle, he leans against the nearest wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. “is it a crime for me to talk to a pretty girl i have a crush on? is there any written policies about that?”

your heart flutters when he calls you pretty. not to mention, a crush?

yeah okay, you do find him extremely attractive and sexy. like, really really sexy. guilty as charged. but who doesn’t think so? his dashing smile and seemingly soft hair do make you a little bit crazy. he’s a total heartthrob on campus.

not only is he the vice captain of the football team but he’s one smart student. passes every class, rarely get a score below B’s. no wonder why teachers are chasing his ass for him to tutor some of the students.

and if that’s not enough, you know how much he loves to spend his time volunteering at local organizations, doing food kits for donations even providing a cost-free child care around the community,

he’s almost—too good to be true.

“i’m flattered, truly. but flirting won’t get you anywhere, mr.” you wag your finger side to side,

“seriously?”

“seriously”

“wow” he breathes out a sigh, faking a disappointment. “i got to try harder than that then”

a giggle leaves your mouth, head shaking. “my advice? stop trying, o’hara”

“i can’t do that, muñeca”

you tilt your head to the side,. “and why’s that?”

“i just told you”

“hm. surely there are other girls out there, o’hara”

“i don’t want them”

“persistent aren’t you?”

“kind of” he casually shrugs. “why, you don’t like it?”

“quite the opposite”

“and why is that entertaining to you?” he asks with a smirk,

“i like seeing men desperate. i like seeing them beg for something they know they can’t have” you bite down onto your lower lip. your respond is not meant to be flirty, but more of like a playful statement.

yet somehow, it triggers something in him. something good.

his eyes flicker down to your mouth, puffing out a deep breath. “shit, you’re making it harder for me now” he mumbles, tongue sticking out to wet down his lip,

“harder to what exactly?”

“to not want you” he replies bluntly, tone changes into a serious one. but it doesn’t come off as a lust or desperation,

your smile falters a little when you realize how serious he becomes. swallowing a lump on your throat, fingers digging into the skin of your arms. eyes are now onto his, and you don’t quite get why it feels so difficult to just look away,

“miguel i—“

“shit, i ruined it, didn’t i? eres un idiota” he curses himself with a grunt shaking his head. hands on his hips “sorry, i’m just— fuck you look so good right now muñeca and there’s like a million things going through my mind when i look at you—“

“miguel—“

“obviously i’m not going to tell you because it’s pg-13 all up in here” he points at his head. “and i don’t want to scare you—“

“miguel—“

“but i went past puberty so i’m not some kind of horny teenager that—“

“miguel! jesus, shut up!” you finally exclaim, and that does it for him. his movements stop when he hears you yell out his name,

clearing your throat, you regain your posture before setting the beer down on the nearest table,

“listen i—i just don’t know what to say after that” you begin with a nervous laugh, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “you have a crush on me?”

his bushy brows dip into a frown. “didn’t i make it clear these past few weeks?”

“huh?”

“i brought you lunch, let you borrowed my favorite pen during class, i even asked your number through gloria but she didn’t want to give it to me” his shoulders slouch in disappointment. “i’ve had a crush on you since— I don’t know, too long. you’re a tough woman to please, muñeca. i give you that”

“that’s only one time! how am i supposed to know that you weren’t just looking to hook up?”

“ay dios mio! if i wanted to just have sex with you, i would try to get closer with you during a party! which is… technically what i’m doing right now but— that’s not the point!” he groans, rubbing his hands all over his face in frustrations,

“you seriously didn’t notice the signs?!”

“those weren’t fucking signs, dumbass. try to do more than being subtle, why don’t you?!”

“well it’s hard when you keep dodging me and rolling your eyes everytime i talk to you!”

“how can i?! when you slept with like half of the sorority girls on campus?!”

“how many times do i have to tell you that what you hear is not true? i don’t know where you got that from but i can assure you that i haven’t fucked anyone in months! and the idea of hooking up with random girls doesn’t sound appealing to me! want some prove? ask my brothers about that, go on! or ask beck, he’ll tell you the truth. that man is prone to never lying”

you go quiet. face softening a little,

“wait… then what about the girls i saw you walking with after a party?”

“to walk them safely to their cars or their dorm room. that’s it” he explains, watching the surprised look on your face.

“now.. how do you see me?”

you feel terrible for believing all those rumors first before actually knowing it’s confirmed or not. you are taught to never ever judge a book by its cover and you just did,

fuck you’re a terrible person,

“oh..” you mutter softly. “shit—i’m so sorry miguel, I didn’t know”

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it”

“what? no! i was acting like a complete bitch! ugh fuuuuck” you whine, stomping your heel on the ground as miguel watches in amusement,

‘you’re adorable’ he wanted to say,

“i feel terrible—no, i am actually” you grumble, “how can i make it up to you?”

a bright smile spreads across his face. “allow me to get to know you throughout the night? no funny business i promise”

his eyes are glinting with hope when he looks at you, feeling nervous that you might reject him but he’s not letting you see that,

you mirror his expression, feeling your cheeks warm by his question. “miguel—i’d love to but… no offense, i kinda didn’t want to go to your party in the first place, i only went because gloria asked me to and uhm.. i don’t know if i wanted to stay, actually—it’s not because of you but mainly because my social battery had died even before i got here”

“we don’t have to stay—we can go out. we’ll pick a place and go or you can pick, i’m down with whatever”

with wide eyes, you reply “what?”

“yeah. there’s a good diner i always go to when i’m craving for a good burger or a shawarma truck down the street. they don’t have tables and everything but we can order and eat in my car.”

“unless you have better options, it’s cool” he adds

you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach but it’s hard not to when he’s being extremely… attentive?

my god, is this actually miguel o’hara? the man who’s painted to be heartless and a player?

“mig- this is your party. you can’t just leave” you softly laugh. “we can catch up another time, i hate to be—“

“it’s fine, muñeca. this party is good as it can be without me. besides” he reaches into his pocket to grab his keys,

“i’d like to spend time with you.. is that… okay?”

he’s being careful with his words, because he doesn’t want to scare you off or come off desperate. the last thing he needed was to have you feel repulsed by him,

you give him with a soft smile, looking up at his ruby eyes with your pretty doe ones and from then on, miguel is absolutely sure that he’s in. so fucking in that he knows there is no way out,

it’s not like he wants it any other way

“that’s okay”

-

i was going to make her super mean and bitchy but i figured i’d use that for some other time,

also please tell me this doesn’t sucked. i hate for this one to flop because i might start to fall in love with these pairings

feel free to send your ideas and thoughts about these two

(i might actually write one where they both meet the first time)

[cyberseong]

after hours.

pairing: seonghwa x f!reader

genre: smut/pwp, established relationship, idol au.

warnings/topics: there’s quite a bit of plot before it gets to the actual smut, seonghwa is pissed in the beginning, somnophilia, but everything is consensual, slight dacryphilia, dry humping, unprotected sex, plot twist(?) at the end ig.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi! this fic is slightly proofread but there’s still a possibility that there might be minor errors, but regardless, enjoy!!

seonghwa quickly exited the dressing room and back into the waiting room backstage; y/n was not present, so he began to check other locations such as the makeup and hair rooms and the small kitchenette.

he eventually concluded that she was simply not in the building.

seonghwa dialed her number over 10 times, each going directly to voicemail. anger was bubbling up in his throat; what reason would y/n have to leave the venue, especially after that was the only thing she promised not to do?

“hey, i know you guys don’t plan on leaving right away— but i’m tired, and… y/n is waiting for me at the hotel. so i’ll be leaving early. everyone did great and i’m so proud of all of you, but we’ll speak more tomorrow!” seonghwa tried to sound the kindest he possibly could, knowing the circuits in his mind were about to overheat and spark with fury and betrayal. he definitely didn’t want the rest of ateez to see him like that.

he ran out of the side door, immediately rushing to their van where their manager was waiting. “hey, could you take me back to our hotel early? i– i’m really not feeling well,” seonghwa’s words came out fast and nearly incomprehensible. the manager looked at him with worry, but he quickly nodded and started driving. their hotel was only 3 minutes away by car, so it didn’t take long for them to appear in front of the building. to seonghwa, however, it felt like ages until they reached their destination— he had no idea what y/n was doing right now, or even exactly where she was, and that thought alone was killing him.

as soon as the vehicle went into park, seonghwa jumped out of the van, quickly thanking their manager before rushing into the lobby. he entered the elevator, which, thankfully, was completely empty. he was way too distracted for fan interactions at that moment. his sole objective right now was to see his girlfriend.

slowly, the elevator approached the hotel's highest floor, and as soon as that ‘ding’ was sounded, seonghwa bolted out through the elevator doors and into the hallway. he found his way to room 1117, where he tapped his keycard against the door and opened it once he heard the lock click.

the room was dark, but he noted that the shoes y/n wore to the show earlier were the first thing he saw when he walked in. that was a dead giveaway that y/n was in this room.

“y/n. care to explain to me why you left the venue mid-concert? i’ve been looking everywhere for you, i mean you could’ve left a text, or a note, or someth– oh.” seonghwa’s confronting words quickly came to a stop when he realized y/n wasn’t listening; she was sleeping peacefully on the king mattress that swallowed the entire room. she wore one of seonghwa’s oversized animal crossing shirts and, from the dark out line of her hips and thighs, what seemed to be nothing but underwear on the bottom half of her body.

seonghwa’s entire being shivered at the sight— even imagining y/n coming back to their hotel room to wait for him like this sparked arousal within him. he took a deep breath before quickly kicking off his shoes, trying to get into the bed with the least movement and noise possible.

as his eyes had gotten a chance to adjust to the room's darkness, seonghwa could fully take in the view before him. the shirt had bunched up around y/n’s waist, presumably from moving around in her sleep. she wore a white lace thong that didn’t even try to cover her ass— seonghwa whimpered at the glimpse alone, his pants getting tighter with each thought that formed in his mind about y/n and he just knew he had to do something other than whine quietly like a bitch in heat.

seonghwa held his hips close to y/n's, thrusting up slightly in hopes of feeling any form of friction he could get against his dick. one hand of his rested on your hip as to hold it in place; the other remained over his mouth to block any of the sounds he was making from the oversensitivity. it’s not like an effort to keep quiet would work anyway— seonghwa’s lips were only a few inches from y/n’s ear, and they both knew seonghwa was rather vocal whenever he was worked up. the soft yet violent bucking of his hips against y/n’s soft skin caused her to move in her sleep a little, but seonghwa was too far gone that he couldn’t get his body to stop. tears began to drip from his eyes as his eyebrows furrowed, not being able to handle the feeling of his clothes against his overstimulated cock anymore.

his whimpers were no longer even given an effort to be held back anymore as he pushed his pants and boxers down his legs, using precum as lube before sliding carefully into y/n’s pussy in hopes that it wouldn’t wake her from her slumber. seonghwa couldn’t hold his moans in any longer as he bottomed out— his mind was overwhelmed in such an amorous haze, feeling as if nothing he was doing could help him reach his release. he couldn’t even thrust properly, which led to his hips randomly bucking harshly against y/n’s cervix. he was subconsciously holding a strong grip on y/n’s hips to the point where he was almost sure there would be bruises in the form of handprints in the morning. he placed is face against the crook of y/n’s neck in attempt to muffle the noises that proceeded to slip from his lips, causing vibrations to spread through y/n’s body. seonghwa felt y/n push back against him slightly— the unexpected movement caused him to snap as he immediately felt his body reach it’s climax. he thrusted deeply a few more times before pulling out, immediately painting his cum across y/n’s ass. his frame twitched violenty from overstimulation as he laid on his back, attempting to catch his breath and come down from his climax.

after a few seconds of silence, y/n turned onto her other side to face seonghwa. propping her head up with her arm, she confronted seonghwa. “you could’ve woken me up, you know i wouldn’t have minded.”

seonghwa jumped at the words— he had been way too fucked out to realize that y/n was awake. “what? wait, how long have you-”

“how long have i been awake?” y/n giggled slightly, placing a soft kiss onto seonghwa’s lips before she continued speaking, “since you came through the door, hwa.”

[jyoongim]

Based on ep 5 

ALASTOR

ALASTOR

BARKK BARK AOOOGAAA

Love a caring, defensive, sadistic, cannibilistic daddy demon

Title: Acts of service

Themes: slight submissive y/n, protective, blood, demon form, fluff, relationship dynamic, implied married couple, human life mentioned

Alastor can take a lot of shit…but even he has a breaking point….

(hehehehehehe)

Charlie’s hotel was not making the progress she wanted and so one day she shocked everyone with four words;

“My dad is coming”

The hotel was in a state of frenzy.

Everyone seemed excited to meet the King of Hell.

For once everyone was on one page and getting the place in tip top shape.

You had finally calmed Charlie down from her nth breakdown and had started primping yourself for the big man’s visit.

“Honestly its about time Luci showed his bright ass around here” you said as you patted some blush on.

Alastor was standing in the corner of your bedroom; oozing darkness menacingly.

He had been rather quiet and for once not making a fuss.

You almost smirked, whether or not he admits it

He adored Charlie 

And HATED being bested in anything.

“Youre glowering dear” you say as you finish applying your flawless makeup.

“I just dont see what all the hoopla is about. So what if the Morningstar is coming…its just charlie’s dad” Alastor grumbled in a rant.

You giggled “Yea but this is important to Charlie so no funny business mister”

His big smile tightened and his eyes narrowed “no promises”

You and Charlie greeted Lucifer

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

He damned near choked Charlie in a bear hug before turning to you

“Long time no see Sis” you hummed and gave him a big squeeze, but not before hissing lowly in his ear “do not fuck this up Luci”

He swallowed and you grinned before walking to stand by Alastor.

You nudged him towards Lucifer and reluctantly he introduced himself.

“Alastor sir pleasure to put a face to the name”

Lucifer shot you a look before eyeing Alastor suspiciously

“Uuuhh and you are?”

Alastor eye twitched “i’m the host of the hotel…you might know me from my radio broadcast hmm?”

Lucifer shrugged “nope guess thats why Charlie named it the HAZbin hotel”

You facepalmed and charlie was visibly getting nervous as you could literally see Alastor’s ego flare

“HA HA HA actually i came up with that”

“Ha Ha Ha well it wasnt very clever!”

They were in each other faces now

Alastor growled “ha ha HA fuck you”

You interjected, getting between the two, mostly Alastor

 “Boys Boys reign it in PLEASE” you threw a look at Alastor, who straightened his suit.

You sighed and turned your attention to Charlie 

“Dear why dont you tell your dad the whole point of your hotel” you gave a tense smile.

“Y/n is right dad! Alastor here has been tremendous help with the hotel…i wouldnt have made it this far without him” lucifer made a face.

You could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head

He was up to no good.

“Yeeeeessss we are all very proud of Charlie. I am honored to fulfill any wish this lovely young lady has” 

He hugged Charlie and it took all of your willpower to not laugh at Lucifer’s annoyed look.

You giggled as he completely ignored Alastor and in turn to the others.

Charlie introduced her girlfriend and you could literally see his shoulders ease.

“OH thank Hell youre a lesbian! Cool cool i totally approve of THIS!”

Lucifer went on to give luxurious suggestions to Charlie, which Alastor shot down.

You sighed lovingly at Alastor’s antics.

He might have been the big bad Radio Demon, but he really was a softie when he wanted to be.

Definitely would have made a great dad…

You blushed at the thought.

Lucifer and Alastor were currently bickering with each other about who was the better father figure.

When suddenly the door flew open and a short, voluptuous, 1920 styled woman bursted in.

Your eyes widened “Mimzy?”

She squealed and embraced you in a tight hug, you kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting

“Ooooh y/n darling how you’ve been? Its been too long” she asked.

You grinned and gave a shrug “ooh it hasnt been that long has it?”

She greeted Alastor and gave you an astonished look “Y/n darling you still with dollface here?” you felt everyone eyes shift to you and you felt your eye twitch a bit but said nothing.

She begged to have you chat with her but you told her youll catch up her later, as you were helping Charlie and Alastor with Lucifer.

Not many people knew what your relationship with Alastor, hell not many people knew about Alastor life in general.

And you kind of liked to keep it that way but Mimzy was a talker if you ever saw one.

But Mimzy was not was one to just show up just out of nowhere…

She wanted something

You and Alaster were trailing behind Charlie as she explained the purpose of the hotel when Husker appeared to the two of you, addressing Alastor

“Boss a word with you” you quirked a brow when Alastor kindly shooed you off to have his discussion. You walked a bit aways before morphing into the wall and listened in on their conversation

“What is it?”

“You and I both know that Mimzy only pops her ass up when she needs somethin, that bitch is trouble and who knows what kind of shit she got into to come running to you”

True. 

“Dont worry so much Husker, its nothing i cant handle, besides who in their right mind would cross me?” 

“I mean…youve been gone a while and it aint like no one knows why-”

He was cut off

“And they dont need to know” that sharp smile was tight

Alastor patted Husker’s head condescendingly; like a pet.

Husker shoved his hand away angrily.

“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash”

You saw Alastor glitch, eyes turning to black and glowing dials

Uh oh.

“What did you say?”

Your eyes widened as contract chains shot out at Husker, wrapping around his neck

Alastor was menacingly toying with the chain as he growled

“If you ever say that again i will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every disrespectful wretch WHO DARES TO QUESTION ME!”

Husker was shaking like a leaf and you were stunned; Alastor rarely ever lost his composure.

When Alastor disappeared down the hall you morphed to Husker to ease his nerves

“Oh Husker are you ok?” you asked as you tried soothed his nerves.

He shook it off (not really) and grumbled “fucking asshole”

You headed back to the lobby with Husker when a loud BAM was heard.

What the fuck?

“Mimizy you skank c’mon out here!”

You see Mimzy hide behind the bar and raise a eyebrow.

You frown, going to heave her over the counter

“Mimzy care to enlighten me about what the actual fuck is that” 

She sweatdropped “i-i may or may not have borrowed some money from a loan shark”

Your frown deepened “how. Much. money?”

“O-o fifty…grand”

You hissed.

The hotel was shaking and was being heavily damaged

You pulled charlie out of the way as some debris fell from the ceiling and hissed at Lucifer “arent you gonna do something!?”

He was trying to make this a life lesson and now was NOT the time.

You growled and went to march right outside to give those goons a piece of your mind when a clawed hand settled on your shoulder.

“Dont worry dear ill handle this”

“But Alastor…”

His smile turned wild “its about time i reminded everyone why i am here…a reminder to not fuck with the Radio Demon!”

He transformed. Antlers out and black tentacles flaring.

You watch him grow big in size and rip the gangsters apart, eating a few.

You smiled wickedy, hells he was hot

After he had his fun he shrunk back to normal and you launched yourself at him

Lovingly you purred into his neck “you ok now?”

He grinned, nuzzling you “i missed blowing off some steam”

Mimzy approached the two of you and you frowned, opening your mouth to say something but Alastor beat you to it

“I think you should go Mimzy. Now”

She was shocked. Usually Alastor let her off the hook and it was you who normally told people off.

“Y-you cant be serious…”

His eyes narrowed “I mean it. You brought danger to this place just for me to clean up your mess. I wont allow that here”

He was putting his foot down. You leaned into him, happy.

You flashed her a sharp grin “i agree Mimzy, you should go”

She blinked “you backing up your hubby over ya own friend? y/n!”

She hissed at Alastor “you think i dont know you? You cant really give a shit about this place”

You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look, hissing as you felt your eyes glow in anger “leave Mimzy. While i’m the one being nice”

She huffed and turned to leave, but not before flipping you both off.

You relaxed and turned to Alastor, who was looking smug.

Tugging on his bowtie you craned his neck to your level, purring

 “Bedroom now dear”

His ears perked and his smile grew wider “feeling big emotions doll?”

“Ooh you have no idea”

With a flick of your hand the hotel was restored and you were whisking the lanky red demon upstairs to blow off some steam of your own

….

extra:

"what y/n and Alastor are married?!"

charlie blinked "yea i thought you guys knew that"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"