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lukesaprince · 6 months ago

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Rich Part 23

Summary: Harry and y/n deal with the aftermath of y/n's panic attack and do some retail therapy to prepare for their trip.

Warning: Smut, public bj & masturbation, exhibitionism, daddy!kink. Mention of panic attacks, Ethan and illegal dealings.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: This chapter isn't as long as I hoped it would be and I wasn't able to get a lot of the Pleasing scene complete. I haven't been in a good writing space recently and I really want to make sure it's all planned out properly but I wanted to post something in the mean time for you! Enjoyy

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Harry’s stomach was in knots. It had been twisted since the moment he let you walk away from him at his office. His head was in a constant state of nausea and the very thought of you being so far from him had his body aching. Your trip was coming up so quickly, two weeks exactly now and things had taken such a sudden switch he was dizzy.

He hadn’t seen you for a couple of days, or spoken to you properly either. For anyone else that would be normal. Seeing your partner every day wasn’t a prerequisite to having a happy relationship, but to Harry it was torture. Other than your text message when you got home Wednesday, you hadn’t spoken to him. He sent his usual good morning text Thursday morning and was only met with silence. He worked through his lunch that day so he couldn’t call you like usual, but if that ever happened he expected you to call him first. You never did.

He tried to call you that night, then again Friday morning but you ignored him both times. He was starting to panic, starting to fear that you were seriously not okay or that he had done something to fuck everything up even if he didn’t realise it. He knew you two could communicate if that was the case, that your relationship was strong enough for you to speak to him if he did something wrong. After everything you two had been through, your foundation was strong. At least Harry believed so.

But knowing it could be the former option and you could be at home in an unstable mental state was far worse than the possibility of him doing something that warranted you ignoring him. Harry didn’t want to push you, but he also couldn’t handle the unknown.

He was meant to spend Saturday with you. You were going to meet him in the city to get as much shopping done for your trip as possible then he would spend the night. It was your last free day before locking down for studying and Harry wanted to make it something stress-free and enjoyable to give you a mental break. You only had a couple of free days after your exams before you both flew out so there wasn’t a lot of time to get the key essentials once your semester was over. Mostly you just wanted new clothes and wanted to pick things out for Harry as well. He was happy to oblige.

But now… he didn’t even know if you two were okay.

So he decided that he needed to see you. You could turn him away and tell him that you needed space or hated him or preferably that you loved him. Whatever you wanted. Harry didn’t care what you said, as long as he found you alive and okay.

Early Saturday morning Harry was driving to your place with a bouquet of fresh lilies, a large oat latte and a croissant from your favourite local bakery. He didn’t have your keycard anymore so he couldn’t let himself in… but Harry was creative. It felt a bit reckless and immature actually, calling your best friend to let him in like it was some plot for forgiveness, especially when he was just checking up on you. But Harry didn’t want to risk you coming downstairs and turning away without seeing him or worse, just plain ignoring him.

“Hey, Harry.” Maeve greeted, smiling at the man as she held open the entrance door for him. It was especially cold outside now, so he was quick to rush inside and let the door close before he hugged her quickly as a hello.

“Hey, Maeve. Thanks for doing this.”

“It’s fine. You’re lucky I like you.” She teased, bumping his shoulder while they walked towards the elevator.

Harry was fortunate enough to spend more time with your friends. As were you to spend more time with Niall and Jed. Since Harry was mostly spending time at your place, he had spent time with Maeve and Jay, even Dakari. Usually, it was just your neighbour and coworker, but there was a double date situation where Harry became aware of the ‘older guy’ Maeve was dating.

Dakari and Harry knew each other through golf and Pleasing. They weren’t exceptionally close, but they got on well enough to treat their beautiful girlfriends to an expensive dinner in the city. Dakari was actually interested in investing in Pleasing, but Harry didn’t particularly like the way he conducted business and would’ve rather owned a third of the club than share a sixth with a man he didn’t want to associate with. Harry was glad for that decision now, since his once silent investment turned into him having a say in business decisions and provided perks that he loved to use.

He hadn’t really used them since he met you but he hoped one day he would. With you.

“Yeah, well, I appreciate it… Have you seen her? I haven’t spoken to her since Wednesday and I’m really fucking worried.” Harry admitted, holding the door of the elevator open for Maeve.

“Yeah, I have.” She nodded, “she told me what happened... It’s pretty fucked up. I hope you’ve dealt with that asshole.”

Harry assumed that meant everything.

“I have. I mean, I will.” That still didn’t mean he was going to elaborate. The plan he had set in place to deal with Ethan was one for the inner circle only. The original, small, tightly-knit circle. It was illegal after all. To frame a man for stealing $250,000. “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay… I think she just needed space, that’s all. I wouldn’t take it personally, Harry. She loves you.”

“I know and I don’t. Well, I’m trying not to, anyway.”

The rest of the ride was full of polite small talk. Maeve complimented the flowers and the croissant, but Harry didn’t need her approval to know you loved them. He knew you would because he knew everything about you. Everything except how you were feeling right now.

Harry made sure Maeve went back to her apartment before he knocked on your door. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie, but he was hoping that you two could talk about your panic attack and hopefully end up having a nice day together. He just wanted to hold you and see you smile.

The door swung open barely ten seconds after Harry knocked and there you were. And you looked… okay. Thank God, you looked okay. He could see the tiredness in your eyes and body by the droop of your shoulders and bags under your eyes. You hadn’t changed out of your plaid pyjamas yet but that was normal. Aside from your clear exhaustion, you looked well.

“Hi…” Harry breathed, smiling softly. “I wanted to check up on you. You haven’t answered my calls or texts…”

Your eyes softened and it took a moment before you said or did anything. Without saying anything, you pulled him inside by his nice vest and wrapped your arms around his body, pressing yourself against him. He reciprocated the best he could with his hands full and loosely wrapped his arms around your shoulders, breathing out a huge sigh of relief.

There was a flood of instant relief through Harry just at your tight hug. Like a heavy weight dropped from his shoulders the moment you buried your face into the light blue checks of his vest. God was he fucking ecstatic. Just having your body in his arms was euphoric and there was no feeling quite like the comfortable intimacy of a hug.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

He could barely understand you with how your face was pressed against him, but he made out the words and was immediately taken aback.

“What? Baby, why are you sorry?” He soothed, now desperate to free his hands so he could take care of you properly.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you, I was just…” you sighed and pressed your cheek to him instead, sliding your hands beneath his vest and shirt to feel his warm skin. It was like a clutch for normalcy, a tie to feeling okay again. The last few days had been so murky and unsettling. All you wanted was to feel safe again. Harry never failed to make you feel safe and yet you pushed him away. It wasn’t fair to him and it went against everything you two tried so hard to build. “The panic attack freaked me out and I needed time to sort my feelings out… I shouldn’t have ignored you, H. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t spologise baby, please…” Harry paused, “just-let me put these down, okay? Then we can talk properly?”

You pulled back and looked up at him, reluctantly releasing him from the hug. It was barely a minute before he was on you again. All he did was set the three items on your little table before he wrapped his arms around you properly and squeezed you tight against his body, rocking you slightly from side to side. You gladly inhaled his masculine scent, finding comfort in the rich, sexiness. It was unfair that he always smelt so good. Even after the gym he still smelt like a sexy, clean wealthy man.

“You don’t need to apologise, y/n. I know it freaked you out.” Harry soothed, pressing his lips against the crown of your head, “I was just really fucking worried. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know. I just wasn’t expecting it to happen at all and once it did I just kept thinking and thinking and I was just so angry and exhausted. It was a lot.”

“I know. Trust me I get it. They can be the most debilitating thing in the entire world…” Harry soothed, pulling back from you. “Do you want to go sit down and talk about it?”

With a nod, Harry guided you to sit down on your bed with him. It was still unmade, but Harry didn’t care. You took it a step further and crawled back towards your pillows to lie down on it instead before patting the spot beside you so Harry would join you. He shoved his shoes off then shuffled in beside you, adjusting himself so you were cuddled into his chest.

It was all done in comfortable silence and once you were settled in, Harry decided to speak first.

“They can be traumatic.” Harry murmured, “I spent nearly five hours in the gym after one of my panic attacks.” At his words, you untucked your face from his chest and looked up at him to watch him speak. He smiled down at you, stroking his fingers across your cheek like his words weren’t deeply personal and from a dark period of his life. “I worked my body so hard and wrecked myself because I was trying to deal with my emotions. Or trying not to deal, more like it. I definitely paid for it afterwards but at the time it was the only thing I knew would get my mind off it.”

“I came home Wednesday and cried,” You whispered, watching his eyes sadden. It killed him that he wasn’t there to help you. “Then I went and bought Red Bulls and chips and pulled an all-nighter to finish off an assignment like it was nothing. I was so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I was angry, yeah, but I was also so far out of my head that I just wanted to distract myself.”

“We all do unhealthy things to cope sometimes, y/n. There’s no one way to deal with things. Pulling an all nighter might not be the best way but you were doing the best you could to cope.”

“It didn’t help.” You frowned, tracing the checks on his vest with your nail.

“I can’t imagine it did.” He chuckled softly, sighing when you didn’t look up at him. “Don’t beat yourself up for it, baby... Maeve told me you spoke to her about it. Did that help?”

So that’s how he got in. You couldn’t really be upset by it. Maeve wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t want to see him. You were just… a bit nervous to make the first move.

“It did. It was good to rant about it with someone who didn’t really know anyone involved.”

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Harry hoped you would. After hearing nothing for days he just wanted an insight into your head.

“You don’t have to.” He continued softly, prompting you to look up at him, “I’m happy to just be here with you if that’s what you need.” He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “I would’ve been here when it happened too. I hope you know that. You don’t have to go through these things alone if you don’t want to.”

“I know but I was just so overstimulated I think and… I didn’t want to say anything I regretted,” an unreadable look flashed through Harry’s eyes, like he wasn’t exactly sure how to take what you were saying. You sighed, looking back down at the same quad of checks you had been tracing with your finger during this entire conversation, “I don’t think I ever really processed what happened with Ethan and… your part in it, I guess. There’s been so much going on that I just kept ignoring it and ignoring his existence completely. Seeing him really triggered me and the more I thought about it…” you sighed again, “the more I was angry at you too, not just Ethan.”

“You were?”

“I know you’ve only done what you thought the right thing to do was. But I just don’t get how you can work with him every day. He hurt me so fucking badly Harry…” you could feel your throat starting to get scratchy and your eyes prickling with tears. The stinging forced you to turn from him and close your eyes momentarily, but it did nothing to conceal how you were feeling. The sight practically broke Harry’s heart. “I don’t get how you can even be in the same building as him. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“I feel sick every day I have to see him, y/n. I’ve done everything I can to make sure we never cross paths but sometimes it’s inevitable. He was never meant to be on my floor on Wednesday and I never would’ve let him come anywhere near you if I knew.”

“But you still work with him, Harry!” You sat up abruptly, looking down at him. “It doesn’t make sense. He’s getting no consequences for what he put us through. I get you couldn’t go to the police because there was no evidence, I get it. But I need to do something. I need you to do something.”

“I am.” He didn’t want to get frustrated at you, not when you were hurting but he was hurting too. This wasn’t fucking easy for him and if the law meant nothing he would’ve gone after Ethan himself and made sure he never bothered you or anyone else again. But he couldn’t exactly do that, could he? He sat up as well, nudging backwards until his back was against your headboard. “Y/n I’ve been dealing with him at work the last couple of months because I had to for my plan to work. I couldn’t do anything out of the ordinary because I didn’t want to bring any attention to myself, but I have a plan. It’s just one of those things you have to wait for.”

“What is it? This plan?” You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at him expectantly.

“I can’t tell you.” Harry almost seemed reluctant to say the words, but it wasn’t because he was apprehensive about his decision to keep it a secret from you, it was because he wasn’t sure how you’d react. He didn’t want you to be mad at him, but at the same time he wasn’t going to compromise your safety and your future.

Because that’s what it came down to. If everything went to shit and you knew even one single detail about it, you were done.

He wasn’t going to let that happen but he also wasn’t going to sit here and lie and pretend that nothing was going on behind the scenes. That’s something he would’ve done at the beginning of your relationship, but he knew that this was just as much your fight as his and lying wasn’t the right thing to do. He could be honest and keep you safe at the same time.

“What do you mean? Why?”

You were immediately jumping to many conclusions, all Harry wanted to settle. He just wasn’t sure how.

“Because it’s not exactly legal, y/n and while it’s pretty fucking foolproof I can’t risk anything. If the whole thing comes crashing down I don’t want you knowing a single bit of it.”

“But that’s-”

“You will find out. I promise.” He interrupted, “just not until it’s over. I’m not budging on this.”

As much as you wanted Ethan to pay, you didn’t want it like this. You always knew he covered his tracks well but you hoped that by now there’d be some loose thread. Someone with hard evidence to be able to get him punished and that clearly wasn’t the case. But that didn’t mean you wanted Harry risking everything, either. It was exactly how you felt when you first met Niall and Jed and learnt about how they were blackmailing Ethan into handing over the photos. It was reckless and a huge fucking crime. You prayed that it wasn’t the same plan because nothing on this fucking planet was worth Harry going to jail and you losing him. You couldn’t even bare the thought.

“I don’t want you doing anything illegal Harry. It’s stupid!” Your voice broke in your distress, shooting Harry right in the heart like a goddamn bullet. “I’d rather him get away with everything than have you risk yourself. What if you go to jail or what if it doesn’t work? I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me.” His eyes softened and he reached forward to cup your cheek, “You won’t.” his thumb traced over your cheek and he couldn’t help but kiss you gently before pressing his forehead against yours. “I understand you’re scared, y/n but I have to do this not only for you but for me too… I have no choice but to go down this route because he left nothing for me to work with. Fucking nothing. If there was another way, I would do it. But this is it.”

“And you can’t tell me?” you whispered, wishing you could pry the whole truth from his mouth.

“No.” He shook his head, leaning back just a tad so he could see your whole face at once. “But I’ve done all my due diligence, baby, I promise and I’m as far removed from it as I possibly can be. So please, just, let this one go. For now.”

“I’ll try…” you settled on, unable to promise anything more. “How long am I letting this go though? A couple of weeks? A month?”

Harry sighed and leaned back against your headboard, “I don’t know. Could be while we’re on holiday, could be in a couple months. When I know, you know.”

“And in the meantime you’re just going to keep working with him? That doesn’t seem fair” You didn’t particularly like that idea. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t want him stepping foot into that office again while that asshole was walking around free and triggering panic attacks left right and centre.

“Well…” His lip quirked up in a smile, “I was hoping we’d enjoy our holiday together and then who knows… maybe I won’t go back to work once we’re home. I haven’t decided yet but I’ve wanted to do something different for a while now. Just not sure what.”

“I didn't know you were thinking of changing jobs.”

He shrugged, tracing random patterns on your back through your pyjama shirt. “I haven’t been planning anything per say, but I’m a bit bored. Seeing that asshole around doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t seem worth it anymore, not when I can do anything else and be happier for it.”

“A career change at your ripe age? That’s ballsy.” You mused, squealing and jumping slightly when he pinched your ass.

“Well I haven’t decided anything yet, just considering my options. At my ripe age I’ve done quite well for myself so I wouldn’t mind a bit of time off. Maybe be a stay at home boyfriend while you study your pretty little ass off in your final semester.” He reached up to fiddle with the ends of your hair, twirling a strand around his finger.

“A stay at home boyfriend?” You scoffed, laughing loudly. “Stop.”

“What?” He laughed, amusement laced in his widened eyes, “we’ve got a son and two households to run, someone has to be around to cook and take care of the place.”

A son. There was something so heartwarming about Archie being referred to as your son, especially when Harry was being so casual about it. Like it was normal. Put the son reference and conjoining your two houses as one and well… that was about as committed as you could be without moving in together. Not that you were anywhere near that stage yet.

“One of those households has a maid, a gardener and a dog walker, I’m sure it’s just fine.” You rolled your eyes, “But if you want to take care of this place and feed me I won’t complain.”

“I’d be more than happy to feed you and fulfill any other needs you have.” He announced proudly, squeezing your hip before reaching in to peck you quickly. “Which reminds me-” he got out of bed, going to your table where your coffee and sweet treat were still waiting for you. “I got you these.” You shuffled up into a cross legged position, happily grabbing the two items when Harry sat back down on your bed.

“Thank you.” You sipped your drink, loving the sweet taste of it. “And thank you for driving all the way down here. It means a lot.” You tore open the paper bag, ripping off a small piece of the croissant and offering it to Harry.

“No no. It’s yours.” He declined, happy when you didn’t argue and at the piece. “And you don’t need to thank me. I love you, y/n and I wanted to see you. I always do” He smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I love you too.” You pressed your hand on his knee and reached in to kiss him quickly, loving the way his hand returned to your back to trace random shapes over it. “I love this by the way. I never thought I’d find a vest sexy but you look really good.” You traced over the v-neck of his checkered vest with your clean hand, looking up at him. You really missed him.

“Thanks darling. It’s vintage.” He smirked, wrapping his arm around your hip to drag you back to sit properly beside him. You felt a little dirty compared to him in his nice outfit, especially since you had been wearing the same clothes for days and desperately needed to wash your hair. Harry didn’t seem to care though and you really appreciated that. Washing your hair was a mission by itself. Add a panic attack and assignment stress and you couldn’t think of anything worse, even if the thought of a long hot shower did sound quite nice.

“I like it.” You took a big bite of your croissant this time, moaning at the taste of the chocolate filling. You slumped against Harry, happily chewing it while he rubbed your hip and kissed your head.

“Good?” He mused, sliding his hand just underneath your pyjama top to feel your soft skin.

“So good.” You nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m glad.” He laughed. A comfortable silence fell over you two, with small comments and conversation here and there. It was nice to just spend time with Harry, even if you weren’t doing much of anything. “Would you still be interested in going shopping?”

“Today?” You sat up properly and looked at him, both your coffee and croisssnt long gone and in your stomach.

“If you’re up for it. We did plan for today but there’s no pressure. I’m more than happy to change into comfortable clothes and watch Netflix all day. Truly.”

“No no. I could go shopping. We need to get ready for our trip, right?” You grinned, getting excited at the thought of a day walking around the shops and buying so many cute outfits for your trip. Secretly though, you liked the idea of Harry going with you more than the shopping itself.

“We do. Yes.” He smiled, happy that you had a bit more energy. Harry hated seeing you down. Any emotion except pleasure and happiness had him determined to fix whatever the issue was. “Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yep.” You climbed over him to get out of bed, stopping when you were straddling him. His hands found your hips immediately, unable to keep them off you. “I need to wash my hair though, so can you wait an hour? I’ll try and be quick.”

An hour. By that calculation you were doing your ‘everything shower’ and a full face of makeup. Harry now knew what that meant, but he was happy to sit around and keep himself occupied if that meant you were taking care of yourself. The concept wasn’t as relaxing as he thought it would be. It was more of a frustrating marathon of events where each one presented its own challenge. He made the mistake of wanting to join you for one of them, thinking it would be fun and you ended up kicking him out because you didn’t have enough space to shave the back of your leg.

If there was one shower he let you have alone, it was that one.

Harry chuckled and nodded, squeezing your hips then helping you climb the rest of the way off the bed. “Take your time, y/n. We’ve got all day.”

You managed to get everything done in just over an hour and then you and Harry were on your way to the city. You grabbed another coffee as soon as you made it into the shopping centre, then the shop-to-shop walking began. There were a few items you had on your list that you were aiming to buy, but for the most part you just wanted to try a bunch of stuff on and see what you liked. Harry of course was happy to offer his suggestions and his wallet which only seemed to get him more excited to pick things out for you.

“I was thinking…”

“Mh?” You hummed, buckling up the buckle on a pair of baby pink suede platform heels. They definitely weren’t Europe-appropriate, but you got a little sidetracked and with Harry encouraging you to try on everything you so much as looked at, it was easy to get distracted by anything that looked pretty.

“After your assignment is submitted Friday, why don’t we pack up your place and you can stay with me until we leave for our trip?”

“Harry I still have to study for two exams. As much as I love that idea, you don’t want me taking over your house.” You responded, standing up from the couch to test the comfort of the shoes. You stepped around them a little, walking to the closest mirror to have a look at them properly. “And I’m sure my parents would hate that I’m spending a week at yours instead of going home.”

“But you weren’t meant to go home at all, remember? Not until your exams were finished.” Harry coaxed, standing up from the couch to step behind you in the mirror and wrap his arms around your waist. You shivered slightly against him, still focusing on looking at the heels on your feet. “This time you’re close to home, close to Archie…” He hummed, sliding his nose up the side of your neck. This time you really shivered and your focus was taken completely away from your shoes. Not that you were thinking of buying them anyway. They were way too expensive but the allure of trying on Prada shoes alongside a man who already put aside a pair of sunglasses and a belt for himself was way too strong. “Close to me…” this time his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail right underneath your ear.

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, making Harry smirk at you in the mirror. Oh he had you now. Your body was becoming more pliant in his arms and you were leaning against him more and more with every passing second.

“You could study during the day and have Archie keep you company then at night I could feed you and help you… relax,” his hand flattened against your belly, causing the bold rings on his fingers to twinkle in the lighting. You had a sudden craving for those fingers to be in your mouth or further down south where he actually could make you relax.

“I’ll be studying all the time, Harry.” You weren’t sure why you were protesting it so much, not when the thought of a quick orgasm as your 15-minute study break sounded so delicious.

“And I’ll be right there beside you, working or reading or providing you with a quick… study break. Whatever you need, hm.” He drawled, kissing your cheek. All you could do was nod because you were so fucking dazed and way too horny in the middle of a store you couldn’t afford. “Do you like the shoes?”

“What?”

You didn’t even hear what he said.

“The shoes.” He tapped your belly, looking down at your feet. “Are they comfortable?”

“Oh…” You tried to snap out of it and stepped a little in place, feeling the shoes mould perfectly to your feet. God, why did you have to love something so expensive? “Yeah, they’re comfy but I don’t need them.”

“Nonsense. They’re baby pink, your favourite colour.” Harry grinned, pulling back to step in front of you instead. The fact that he called it ‘baby pink’ and not ‘light pink’ had you screaming on the inside. He grabbed onto one of your hands, holding it out between you. “Do a spin.”

You did as told and did a 360 spin for him, liking how your heights were a bit more even with the tall heel. Without saying anything more to you, he turned to the sales associate who was waiting patiently beside the couch Harry was just sitting on. “Do you have a matching bag to these? In a baby pink?”

“Yes, sir. We have a cross body and a shoulder bag.”

“Perfect. Bring them both, please.” Harry turned back to you, then suddenly whipped his head around to the woman before she could step away, “Oh, and please bring some sunglasses too. Anything you think might suit her. Thanks, love.”

“Harry, what are you doing?” You hissed, “I’m not buying anything.”

“No, I am. I like you in pink. Besides, isn’t a shoulder bag and sunglasses a necessity for a holiday?” He mused, squeezing your hips. “Let me spoil you, darling. For doing so well on your exams.”

“I haven’t even done them yet.” You blushed, protesting slightly while threading your fingers behind his neck. “You don’t have to buy me such expensive things, H. You’ve already gotten me so much today.”

“And? You deserve it.” Harry assured you, reaching forward to kiss you gently. The lipstick you applied before you left was almost gone by now. Harry could barely keep his hands off you and you didn’t really want him to. These quick, casual pecks and signs of affection meant so much more to you than anything he could buy.

“Thank you.” You whispered, threading your fingers softly into the hair at the nape of his neck to kiss him again. “Really. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, baby.” He kissed you again and then sealed it with another quick peck before using his grip on your hips to turn you back towards the mirror. “Now tell me you don’t love the shoes. I know you can’t.”

It was store after store of shopping. You tried to keep things concise to the list you brought of things you wanted to get, but just like the Prada shoes… and bag… and sunglasses, you were both easily distracted. You had more fun dressing Harry up more than anything. Seeing him try on complete outfits you picked out for him just hit the spot for you. You loved it.

And it had nothing to do with him looking absolutely delicious in every fucking thing. You picked out a bit of a joke outfit in one of the ‘younger’ stores as Harry liked to call it, styling him in something more skater boy than his usual refined, delicious European style and he still looked hot as anything.

Harry hated it of course, but he did like the graphic t-shirt and managed to style it in his own way with the pair of dress pants he had on. God, he was just so fucking hot. By the third men's store you brought him into, you were sweating. You couldn’t explain why it was such a turn-on to watch him open and close a curtain and show off different outfits or why a linen button-up much like everything else he has riled you up until you were clenching your thighs, but it just did.

You finally truly understood why he liked buying you things so much.

“Alright, last one then I need food. It’s practically dinner time and there’s a sushi train near here. I could demolish like twenty of those little plates.” Harry chuckled to himself and opened the door of the fitting room he was in. Upon revealing himself, your mouth properly dropped.

It was another button-up style top but this time it was entirely made out of white crochet squares. The design was fine and perfect beyond perfect and had so many little holes throughout the design, that you could see slivers of skin everywhere. Then there was the obvious sliver of skin. The top three undone buttons that Harry had purposefully left open to expose his cross necklace and littered chest hairs. The tails of his swallows were peaking past the edges and with particular movements, the moth became more visible.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Not sure about this one, love. ‘Dunno why.” Harry ran his hands down the fabric, looking at his shirt until he realised you hadn’t said anything. “Y/n?”

Seeing the look at your face, Harry could see exactly what your opinion was on his shirt.

“I love it.” You finally said, walking towards him so you could feel the soft lace across his chest. He smirked and placed his hands on your waist. “It’s soft.”

Just the feeling of the soft lace against his warm body was driving you crazy. His body heat was radiating against your hands and you suddenly craved it against your body. All this talk about ‘study breaks’ and being in the same house as him for an entire week had your head in a spin. You couldn’t stop thinking about having constant sex and how tempting it would be to have so much privacy for so long.

And this was before you two were going to have an entire month together. God, the thought of that… your vagina would never be the same, you knew that for sure.

“Mh. Comfy too.” He commented, shivering when you dug your nails through the lace holes to scratch at his chest. “So y’like it?” Harry’s head cocked a little as the attraction in your eyes quickly started to reflect in his own.

“Uhuh.”

You peeked around quickly to make sure you were alone and when the coast was clear you made the quick decision to walk him backwards back into the fitting room. Harry was happy to follow along with you, barely being able to ask what you were doing before you locked the door behind you and grabbed onto his face to kiss him.

Harry squeezed your waist and chuckled into your mouth, sighing softly against your lips while he kissed back. His arms started to wrap tightly around you and he was trying so hard to not moan at how eager you were pressing yourself against him and nibbling on his lip and tugging on his hair and fucking hell he was going dizzy.

You weren’t one to start things like this and Harry was enjoying every fucking moment.

“What are you doing, darling? Hm?” Harry mused, eyes fluttering shut as you tugged his head back by his hair to gain easier access to his neck. His fingers dug deeper into the small of your back in an attempt to ground himself. He had to be quiet.

“I need your cock in my mouth,” You whispered against his skin while sliding your hand down his chest towards his dress pants. Harry tensed immediately beneath you, nearly groaning loudly when your hand landed on his cock. “Please, Daddy.”

You started to palm over his half-hard cock which was very quickly hardening properly beneath your hand. Harry’s head tipped back against the wall and his jaw went slack. He could barely fucking believe what was happening right now.

What you were doing was reckless. Inappropriate and very much illegal. Giving head on a yacht in the open ocean didn’t exactly compare to giving head in a small enclosed fitting room where there were many more people around and any small noise would give you away.

To be honest though, you didn’t really give a fuck. You could tell Harry liked that.

You pulled back from his skin and made eye contact with him while squeezing him through his pants hard enough to make his eyes flutter. Reaching forward, you kissed him softly and spoke through soft kisses until he verbally agreed to have you on your knees before him. “Let me say thank you… please… I need it so bad, Daddy.”

Harry breathed heavily against your mouth and threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck to tighten them in an almost warning way. “You’ve got to be quick, y/n. Unless you want to be caught.”

Something told you Harry wouldn’t have any issues being caught with his cock in your mouth.

With a quick nod from Harry, you began the descent onto your knees. But before they even bent, he stopped you. “Wait.” He murmured, grabbing his expensive vest that was hanging on the back of the door and then folding it in half so it was thicker. “For your knees.”

“I thought you liked it when they bruised.” You grinned, taking the vest nonetheless and putting it on the carpet in front of his feet. You slowly got down on your knees, looking back at the lock for a second just to double-check it was actually locked. It was thrilling to be in such a compromising position, but that didn’t mean you actually wanted someone to walk in on you two.

“Only when I can take care of you after.” Harry sighed, the sight of you before him enough to make him breathless. He tried to relax against the wall separating your fitting room from the one next door. It thankfully went floor to ceiling, so you hoped that would muffle most of the noise. As much as you could try to keep quiet, Harry was quite terrible at it and it was hard to give a proper satisfying blowjob without making some sort of noise.

Hopefully, the store’s music would cover it.

“You always take care of me. Now it’s my turn.” You looked up at him with a smile, sliding your hands over his thighs. He looked down at you, sliding his hand through your hair to push it back from your face so he could watch your facial expressions and every move you made.

“You look so hot in this” You complimented, pushing his button-up top up his stomach to expose his belly button and below. “You better buy it.” you leaned forward and licked a stripe from the button of his pants to his belly button, making sure to do it once more while you undid his pants.

“I will…” Harry assured, sighing out like a pretty angel just at the feeling of your mouth on his lower belly. “You like it so I have to buy it.”

“Mhmm. Y’gonna look so good, Daddy…”

Harry’s pants easily fell to his ankles once the button came undone. They were straight-legged and with his tight briefs pressing his cock down, they slid right down. Of course, the briefs didn’t last very long either and they soon joined Harry’s pants at his ankles.

You had no time to tease or kiss every inch of exposed skin like you wanted to. This had to be quick which was a shame when he looked so fucking hot standing there naked aside from the pretty lace button-up you wanted to keep on him. It was like sexy lingerie and it messed with your head much more than you would’ve liked.

“I only look good for you, darling. You’re the only one I want to… shit…”

Harry couldn’t even finish his words, not when you spat on your hand, wrapped it around him and brought him to your mouth without any fucking warning. You jerked him slowly with your hand, focusing on the base while you slid his head against your tongue. His hips bucked against your mouth at the feeling, causing you to choke a little on his cock and force yourself to pull back from him.

“You’ve got to relax.” You licked your tongue slowly against his slit, savouring the taste of his precum. You made a show of it too and closed your eyes to hum gently once it collected on your tongue. “As much as I love choking on your cock, it’s too loud.”

You were almost scolding him, reprimanding him for not being good and staying pressed against the wall. It was reminiscent of the first time you figured out you loved him, not that Harry knew it like that. Harry remembered the first shower blowjob he got from you as a bold move, not the craving for control that you desperately wanted at the time.

Now… you’d give up any and all control to Harry, knowing that you were really the one in charge. That’s how you two worked. You both had your limits and while Harry hadn’t really pushed them to the limits very often, he had the power to do so because you gave it to him.

And how he was putty in your hands.

“Don’t think I won’t get you back for this…” he shuddered, fisting your hair tighter when you brought him back into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him perfectly. All you did was smile around his cock while pressing the vein underneath his length back and forth on your tongue.

You were looking forward to the payback.

The longer you had him in your mouth, the less you started to care about how loud you were being. Harry was doing well to keep still, albeit practically trembling against you, but his hands were tugging on your hair roughly and he couldn’t stop the string of curses in place of loud moans he wanted make for you.

There was just nothing like the sound of male pleasure. Deep, guttural groans and whimpers, hushed lines of praise and degradation and pleads of your name. A loud curse when you clenched around him or a whimpered one when you swallowed around him like you were doing now.

Your hand was still wrapped around his base, fingers reached further back to press against his frenulum and apply pressure to his balls at the same time. You kept moving your mouth quickly and sloppily over his tip, swirling your tongue around his head where he was most sensitive.

“Jesus fucking Christ, y/n. God… your mouth.”

It was borderline blasphemy the way he used God’s name. The way he cursed and moaned it out because you were giving him one of the most insane blowjobs of his entire life. There was pleasure in all types of blowjob, but there was nothing quite toe-curling like having his tip sucked and flicked at so fucking harshly. Harry almost felt like he needed to squeal like a little girl.

And you were eating it up. Literally.

Sucking Harry off just turned you on to level 100. There was something about the shape of his cock… the weight of it on your tongue… his scent and soft skin, the way he was so incredibly hard for you and yet so sensitive and dainty at the same time. All of it. Add the dirty talk and the hair pulling and his nails scratching at your head like he wanted to force your head closer so you’d choke on him and you were practically a puddle in your jeans.

You wanted to touch yourself. To just dip your fingers in your underwear and touch the pain away. Just a little.

“Can I touch myself, Daddy? I’ll be quick, I promise.” You whispered, pulling off him to speak and catch your breath while you continued jerking him off.

Even on your knees with all the power in this situation, you still asked permission to touch yourself. Harry had to force his mind elsewhere to not prematurely cum all over your nice outfit.

“Do it. Make yourself cum f’me, baby. You’ve been sucking me so fucking good.” He praised, rubbing his thumb over your messy mouth. Your once perfect lipliner was all smudged now, leaving behind your pretty swollen lips for Harry to trace. He had a sudden craving to kiss you silly, but with your manicured fingers wrapped around him, his cock’s craving was stronger. Hungrier.

You nodded, bringing his cock to your mouth and bopping against it while you undid your jeans so you could slide your hand into your underwear. It was like instant relief the moment your fingers met your clit. You were soaked and slippery and so fucking horny you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to finish yourself off.

Harry was close too. You could tell by his heavier breathing and the slight twitching in his cock. You kept your lips wrapped around his tip and focused your attention there while you used one hand on his balls and the other to touch yourself.

The closer both of you got to finishing, the louder your noises became. You tried so hard to hide it, to keep your noises reduced to a sigh especially when you could hear people talking all around you, but it was pretty damn hard. Your one saving grace was the music echoing through the speakers, but you were getting so lost in the pleasure you didn’t know or care whether it was loud enough to cover what you two were doing.

“Shit, y/n. ‘M close. ‘M getting so close…”

Keeping your lips wrapped around him, you took his warning as a sign to jerk him faster and time your own circles on your clit with every movement you made on his cock. And it wasn’t long after his warning when you felt his whole body tremble against you. His thighs tensed and his abs clenched, his fingers stilled in your hair.

Harry had to bite down on his own fist to try and muffle the noise he let out when he finally came in your mouth, letting ribbons and ribbons of cum fill your throat until you had to swallow to make more room. He wanted to watch you take all of it and make yourself finish, but he could barely stand up straight let alone keep his eyes open to see the way you shook and squeezed your eyes shut when your own orgasm rushed over you.

When he nudged your head away due to sensitivity, you both seemed to collapse in your own positions to try and calm down from your highs. Your head tilted against his thigh and you just sat there for a moment collecting yourself before deciding to redress Harry. You two had been in the dressing room for way too long now and the post-orgasm clarity was starting to make you freak out about what you had just done.

You only got his button done up before Harry was picking you up off the floor and drawing you in for a heated kiss.

“God I fucking love you.” He murmured, kissing you over and over again while you giggled into his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, poking his chest. “We should do that again sometime.” You breathed through a laugh while zipping up his pants for him. You were a little in disbelief at what just happened.

“We should,” Harry smirked, reaching between you to zip up your jeans and do the button for you. “Though next time it’ll be you trying to keep quiet and we both know you have a harder time keeping your noises to yourself.”

“That’s so not true!” you scoffed, turning to the mirror so you could fix your hair. “I can keep completely silent thank you very much,” you couldn’t, not when you were with Harry anyway.

“You’re such a liar.” He laughed, shaking his head while taking the lace shirt off so he could put his own clothes back on. You watched him through the mirror, still overly horny and unsatisfied. Seeing his bare chest just made you want his cock in your mouth again. Or better and far more satisfying, inside you. “I can very easily prove you wrong though, I hope you know that.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes and then without any warning felt Harry press his chest into your back while he wrapped his hand around your neck. Your eyes widened and you felt your head go dizzy when he applied pressure just in the right spots.

“I’ve been very generous to you today, baby, and while having my cock in y’mouth is a very nice thank you, I don’t think it warrants attitude, does it?” he murmured, making eye contact with you in the mirror while running his nose up the length of your neck.

Fuck me.

God, you wished he would.

You swallowed thickly, a little overwhelmed at how dominant he became in a flash. You had almost forgotten what it was like to have him so in control and so powerful. Since you got together he had been so soft and loving. The parts of him that would correct you and reprimand you when you broke eye contact or showed a hint of attitude had significantly softened. They hadn’t disappeared altogether, your sex and your life together was still playful and Harry was most definitely in charge, but with your lives being so busy and having so many things to work through, it was clear to both of you that things had changed.

You just hadn’t really spoken about it.

But you didn’t want to forget. You didn’t want Harry to think that he couldn’t push boundaries anymore or be rough with you just because you two were in a relationship. In the beginning you knew he didn’t want to overstep because things were so emotionally raw still, but now that things were good between you two…

You put it down to not having time, which was a big part of the problem. Still, you missed it.

“N-no…” You breathed, sliding your hand to cover the one he had around your neck, “No, it doesn’t.”

“Exactly. So?” He prompted with a raised brow, caressing his fingers up and down the sides of your neck with little pressure.

“‘M sorry, Daddy.”

The title slipped out easily, naturally. It was never going to be part of your lives 24/7 because that wasn’t your dynamic, but you two were clearly still playing and you were still in the high of sucking him off. It was just so easy to let go of all thoughts and issues when he took control like this.

“Good girl, angel.” He smiled, manoeuvring your face to the side so he could kiss you and look at you directly. You savoured the kiss, craving that closeness even when he pulled away to run his thumb over your lips. “Are you still hungry?”

You nodded. “Very.”

“Good.” His eyes softened and he couldn’t resist kissing you again. “Wait outside then, okay? I’ll get dressed then we’ll drop our bags to the car and go get dinner.”

“Okay.” You nodded again, wanting nothing more than to just cling to him and never let you go. Still, you did what he asked and cautiously slipped out of the room, thankful that the one person standing out there paid no attention to you or even Harry when he exited his fitting room a minute later.

It was decided during your dinner together that you’d go back with Harry to his house. After spending such a nice day together, you didn’t really want to go home. You knew you should’ve, especially since you still had one assignment to go before you could focus on studying for your exams, but you knew that you wouldn’t get anything done after the week you’ve had whether you were with Harry or without him.

And you’d much rather be with him.

When you got to his home, you wanted to try everything on again just to make sure you liked what you got in case you changed your mind. Fitting room mirrors can give you the best or worst confidence in the world and you always need to see things in your own house (or Harry’s in this case) to make a final decision. While Harry didn’t quite understand your logic, he was happy to sit in his nice armchair and watch you try everything on for him.

Harry found it quite adorable the way you analysed yourself. The look of concentration and slight furrow in your brow as you observed yourself from every angle. Harry liked everything on you of course, but he quickly learnt you still needed to hear it from him at least three times before you believed it.

“Okay, last one.” You declared, emerging from his walk-in closet where you just looked at the dress for a solid three minutes before wanting Harry’s opinion.

“It’s gorgeous. I love the colour on you.” Harry beamed, fingers laced together with his elbows resting on his parted knees. He scanned your body, thinking that this one was possibly his favourite dress of the day. “Makes your bum look great.”

“Stop.” You scoffed, laughing while looking back in the mirror. You were able to see it from the doorway of his walk-in robe, which was handy. “Seriously, though. You don’t think it washes me out?”

“No. I think it suits you perfectly. It’s different from other dresses you have too.”

You didn’t quite understand how Harry had the patience to sit through a haul like this. Your dad never did, even when you forced him to at least pretend to be interested and yet Harry acted like every outfit was the newest, greatest thing he had ever seen. If it were even possible, you loved him more for it.

“That’s what I was thinking. I wanted a few things that are a bit more unique, y’know? Even though I’ll probably end up wearing the same things all the time anyway.” You laughed to yourself, eyes focused on the dress. You tilted your body side to side, watching how the fabric flowed around you. “So you definitely like it?”

Barely a minute after his second assurance and you needed another. Harry would happily tell you how beautiful you are a million times if that made you happy.

“Yes.” Harry nodded, “1000%”

“1000% huh?” You grinned at him. He nodded with an equally happy smile. “Okay then. I’m satisfied with my purchases now and I feel justified.” You announced it like you were proud of the outcome, even though you didn’t buy a single item of anything that you tried on for Harry. He fucking loved it though. If you ordered him to buy you a new car or a $20,000 bag he’d do so in a heartbeat then need to fuck you because of how much it turned him on.

“Good.” Harry laughed, sitting back in his chair. “C’mere, baby.” He motioned you over to him, letting you step between his parted before he wrapped his arms around your hips. You smiled down at him, slinging your arms around his neck.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled, hugging you closer to him. “Are you feeling better after this morning?”

Your smile faltered and suddenly the happiness you got from your little shopping spree disappeared into thin air. It was nothing but a quick distraction, easily ruined by a reality check. You couldn’t blame Harry though. All he did was check in on you.

You nodded and started twirling the hair at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “Yeah… it was nice to have the distraction. There’s just been so much shit going on at the moment and I feel like I haven’t breathed properly for weeks. I just want to have a clear head for once, y’know? Just not think about anything.” you sighed, looking down for a moment.

“I can help with that,” Harry said softly, tilting your head up with his index finger so you were forced to look at him. “You know that right, y/n? I can give you anything you want…” his voice dropped an octave and you were instantly aware that he wasn’t offering a listening ear. Your breath hitched and your body completely tensed up in his arms, “...anything you need.”

“I know…” you whispered, unable to look anywhere except right into his darkening gaze.

“So let me…” he urged, “Do you want me to clear your head for you?...” he scanned your face, sliding the tip of his index finger from your chin down to trace along your neck. It was a trail of fire. Just the path of his fingertip was making you need to claw out of your own skin and he had barely touched you. It felt like he hadn’t properly touched you for weeks. “To take away all your stress and your thoughts… let you be completely relaxed?”

You were practically trembling in his touch. One hand was squeezing your waist and the other was trailing patterns over your neck and your collarbones, down to the modest neckline of your dress. You were dying.

“I can take full control if you want me to, y/n. You just have to say the word.” He flattened his palm against your neck, making you flutter your eyes closed as he enclosed his hand around it. He applied no pressure, just a loose hold to show you what he could do to you. For you. “I can be Harry or Daddy… whatever you need. Anything you need.”

The way his mouth moved at the two clear syllables of ‘Daddy’ had you sweating. He was giving you every choice, every option so that he knew exactly what you needed and wanted. So that he could take the reigns and let you sink into your submissive bliss.

You needed that more than anything else in the entire world.

“I…” your words faltered, even as you forced yourself to look at him. “I need you, Daddy. Please.”

Harry nodded, scanning your face once more as the side of his mouth lifted ever so slightly in the softest smile he could muster. “I love you and I’m so proud of you for everything you’re achieving, y/n. It takes a lot of strength and endurance to be as strong as you have been.” Now it was your heart that was trembling. “Now let me do it for you. You’re gonna be a good girl for me, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes-yes, thank you.” You nodded eagerly, wanting to sink into his arms so he could take the weight off your feet for you. If he could walk for you, you would’ve let him.

“Good. I want to take you back to Pleasing.”

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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ginnsbaker · 8 months ago

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (10/?)

Part Summary: “Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you again.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.200+ | Warnings: UST, fluff, very light angst | Author's note: I think the summary should tell you what to expect *winks*.

Despite going to bed very late, getting up in the morning isn't hard for you. Though it’s mainly because you barely had any rest at all. The real reason you couldn't sleep wasn’t the couch’s fault—it was the soft, irregular snores drifting in from the bedroom and the new, quiet awareness of someone else in your apartment. Every so often, Leigh would make a sound or shift in her sleep, and you would clench your fist hard against the blanket, resisting the urge to go check on her.

The stillness of the early dawn settles around you, and Leigh’s words come back to you like a quiet sail. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone’s house and not have sex?” she had said once, during one of your long, winding confrontations about Matt. It was a statement that had deeply affected you then, and even more so now, with her just a room away. You remember recoiling when she nearly spat the words at you. You wonder if Leigh also remembers, especially considering last night.

You rise from the couch before your alarm has a chance to ring, padding softly into the kitchen.

Cooking breakfast has become a kind of ritual, an act of service between the two of you. Smiling at this thought, you crack eggs into a bowl, add milk and vanilla, and start whisking. You soak slices of bread in the mixture, heat up the pan, and place them down to cook. French toast is on the menu today, and you hope Leigh likes it.

You set the table quietly, arranging the plates and cutlery, pouring orange juice into glasses. As you lay down the last slice of French toast on the plates, you add a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few slices of fresh strawberries for a pop of color and sweetness. With everything prepared, you sit down at the dining table to wait for Leigh to wake up.

After a while you glance at the clock and see it's 6:30 AM. You need to be at the clinic in an hour. With a sigh, you cover Leigh's plate with a napkin to keep it warm and start eating alone, just as you've done since moving here.

Finishing your breakfast, you wash the dishes and put everything away, your movements mechanical. You know you should get in the shower soon, but everything you'll need to prepare is in the bedroom. Pushing the door open just a crack, you peek inside to see Leigh sleeping peacefully, her face so different from its usual, more troubled visage when awake. She’s lying on her back with her mouth slightly open. The sheets have slipped past her hips, and her shirt has ridden up, exposing her stomach to the cool air. You tiptoe into the room and carefully pull the covers back up over her, tucking them around her gently.

Afterward, you crouch by the bed for a minute, simply observing her steady breathing. You feel a surge of affection as you watch her, wondering if she feels safe here, with you. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, is the very same one that Matt woke up to every day of his life for the past decade until he left this world. You think to yourself what a privilege it was for him, to have shared so many mornings with her, to have been woven into her waking thoughts and dreams.

While you’re cautiously sweeping a few strands of hair from her face, Leigh’s lips suddenly move in her sleep. They part slightly as if she's talking, but no sound escapes. Her forehead creases into a frown—she's clearly dreaming. It's a serious, focused expression that makes her look like she’s deep in conversation with someone in her dream world, and you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

Realizing you've lingered longer than intended, you force yourself to stand. You quietly retrieve a towel and some clothes, deciding to take your shower in the living room bathroom. As you lather soap over your torso, the image of Leigh’s exposed skin haunts your thoughts—the small, soft patch of her stomach you saw earlier. Your fingers inadvertently brush over your own nipples, and you can't help but compare the sensation to what touching Leigh's skin might feel like, if the rest of her body feels just as smooth and supple as it looks. The thought sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming despite the warm water. Your fingers wander lower almost of their own accord. A gasp escapes your lips when the tip of your forefinger brushes against your clit, the touch sparking an unexpected surge of arousal. Shocked by your own reaction, you quickly turn the shower knob, the water temperature dropping to a chill that snaps you out of your fantasies.

Get a grip, you mutter to yourself, feeling a combination of embarrassment and frustration. Leigh is just in the next room, trusting you, and here you are getting carried away. Shivering a bit under the cold spray, you finish up quickly, wrap yourself in a towel, and get dressed.

You take one last look at Leigh before you leave. She’s still sprawled out in the same comfy position, deep in sleep. Waking her doesn't feel right—not just to say a quick goodbye before you rush off to work. Instead, you jot down a note on a piece of your prescription pad. It’s a quick message letting her know breakfast is ready on the table, she should feel at home, and you’ve left an extra set of keys for her. You apologize for the early exit and sign your name with a flourish. You tuck the note under her plate of French toast, placing the keys beside it. Then, remembering the night might have left her with a bit of a hangover, you put a glass of water and an aspirin by her bed. You're trying to think of everything she might need to start her day off right.

“Bye, Leigh,” you whisper as you give the room one final glance. You step out into the morning, locking up but leaving a part of your mind behind, picturing her waking up comfortable and cared for. It’s ironic that just when you decided to keep your distance, you start running into situations that make you fall even harder for her. It's as if fate is constantly nudging you in her direction.

And frankly, you don't mind it at all.

Leigh stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open to a room that isn't hers. For a brief, groggy moment, she thinks she’s in Danny’s bed, but the scent is all wrong. Where Danny’s sheets carried a distinct note of sandalwood, they smell of lavender and something more… feminine. The soft difference in fragrance tugs at the edges of her memory, pulling forward the events of the previous day.

She blinks slowly, her mind piecing together the snapshots: the sharp words exchanged with Danny that morning, the solo trip out on Halloween, finding herself unexpectedly in Matt’s favorite restaurant. That’s when you came into the picture, dressed up for a date that never showed, and Leigh stepped in. You both shared a beer on the hood of your car, surrounded by glimmering, dreamlike sights, but all she could focus on was how the streetlights played over your face, making you look almost magical as you laughed, a half-empty box of donuts on your lap. You looked so... pretty, she thinks, the image stubbornly etched in her mind.

The night didn’t end there. She took you to a party. It was loud, crowded, but when you danced, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She remembers drawing you to the dance floor, guiding your hands to her hips as she swayed. She recalls gazing at your lips, wondering how they would feel against hers.

Leigh buries her face into your pillow, her cheeks burning as she reminisces how close you were, your lips barely an inch apart. She tries to laugh it off, but it’s hollow, and her face grows hotter as she recalls you pulling away, the almost-kiss dissolving into nothing. The last-second rejection stings, but what really makes her squirm is the heat flooding her body just from thinking about it. In an attempt to distract herself, Leigh snuggles deeper into your bed, but it backfires. One deep breath and she’s engulfed by the scent you left on the pillow. It feels as if you’re right there beside her, the illusion so convincing that it briefly soothes the ache of your actual absence.

And it's in this moment, surrounded by traces of you, that Leigh finally allows herself to fully acknowledge the attraction she’s been trying to ignore. It's been a slow, maddening realization, an interest that has compounded until it could no longer be overlooked. It’s ridiculous, really, because it sort of feels like she’s proving Matt right, wanting you just like he did. She sits up, clutching the sheets close, her heart racing as she turns over everything in her mind. It feels contradictory yet somehow... inexorable, as if it were always meant to happen.

But Leigh pushes back against the idea that anything in her life is fated, especially when it comes to who she might fall for. She's always believed in steering her own ship, picking her paths, her battles, her loves. Not just going with the flow of something because it feels like the universe is pushing her that way. She wraps the sheets tighter around her, needing to feel safeguarded, needing to remind herself that she calls the shots.

She climbs out of bed and starts pacing restlessly like a mad woman. Yes, there's something about you that pulls at her, but that doesn’t mean she has to lose herself to it. For all she knows, it’s just a silly crush, perhaps amplified by the thought that you might have liked her first. It's probably just that—reciprocal attraction—nothing more.

A sudden noise from the living room jerks Leigh out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she frantically whips her head towards the door. It’s been so loud inside her head, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that you might be out there—in your own apartment. Leigh stops pacing and strains to hear more.

There’s another sound. Thud. Thud.

With a shaky breath, she calls out, “Y/N?”

When no answer comes, Leigh edges out of the bedroom tentatively, as if stepping into her own trial. Her nerves are strung tight with anticipation of confronting you, the newly-minted object of her affection. However, as she rounds the corner, she finds only an empty living room. The quiet is almost startling. Another thud makes her jump—a dull, persistent noise. Turning towards it, she sees only pigeons at the living room window, poking their beaks against the glass, and Leigh exhales a long sigh of relief.

Intrigued, Leigh approaches the window to observe the pigeons. They remain undisturbed as she draws closer, diligently pecking at seeds scattered on the windowsill. So, you’ve been feeding them. It’s a small, charming detail about you that she hadn’t known, and it warms her heart to see this caring, tender side of you. Much like the way you took care of her last night, she feels like one of those pigeons.

Leigh leans against the wall next to the window, watching the pigeons bob their heads and shuffle around. Her eyes then drift to the dining table and land on a plate, invitingly covered, with a piece of paper peeking out beneath it. She walks over and lifts the cover to reveal a hearty serving of French toast, artfully arranged and topped with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

The sight of the breakfast makes her mouth water, and without thinking, she reaches out with her hands and takes a bite. It's still slightly warm, a sign that you haven't been gone long. Comforted by this thought, she pulls out a dining chair and settles in, making herself comfortable. Then, picking up the note, she unfolds it to read while she enjoys her breakfast.

Hope you enjoy the French toast. I had to head out early, but I wanted to make sure you had a warm start to your day. Please make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you need, and here’s some extra keys to the apartment just in case. Sorry to miss saying goodbye this morning. I hope we can catch up later when I'm back - Y/N

Leigh bites her lip, staring down at the note and the keys beside it. It feels so... domestic. Almost too familiar, but too quickly. She can't help but recall the countless times she left similar notes for Matt, scribbled in haste before dashing off to her early morning classes at the Beautiful Beast. Her trips to Danny's apartment never felt quite like this. It had always felt more like a love nest, designed for pleasure, not partnership. It was somewhere to escape to, not a space she could ever see herself belonging in, being her own. But here, with these keys in front of her, it's different. This feels like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit the same way anymore.

Leigh hesitates, unsure if this is a good thing. If you are a good thing. With Danny, everything was safe, predictable. He wants her more than she wants him, and in a twisted way, that imbalance has become an assurance. It’s easier, requiring less vulnerability on her part. But with you, the balance feels equal, perhaps even tipping in a way that makes Leigh unsure of where she stands, unsure of her control over the situation.

That terrifies her. And she hasn't felt this scared since Matt left.

As if on cue, a loud ringing blares through the apartment. Leigh blinks, pulled abruptly back to the present, and realizes she has no idea where she left her phone. She scrambles to her feet, her search for the phone turning into a clumsy dance as she trips over herself in the process. After a brief, frantic search that feels longer than it probably is, she traces her steps back to your bedroom. There, beside the bed where she'd woken up, her phone is vibrating against the hardwood floor. The screen lights up with the name “Jules”. Leigh swipes to answer, holding the phone a bit shakily to her ear.

“Danny’s here.”

Shit, shit shit.

“Just get rid of him, Jules. I'll call him later,” Leigh says.

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

“Where are you, anyway?” Jules asks.

Leigh glances around, fiddling with the phone in her hand before answering, “I’m at a friend’s place.”

“Oh,” Jules lets out a low whistle. “Anyone I know?”

Leigh takes a deep breath. “Y/N.”

Jules falls silent, her breath the only sound coming through the phone. Leigh can almost visualize her sister on the other end, puzzling over why Leigh spent the night at your apartment and wondering if something happened between you two. She anticipates the barrage of questions that will greet her when she gets home.

“Leigh, I—” Jules starts to say.

“Don't. I'm leaving soon. Please make sure Danny's not there when I arrive. Please,” Leigh says.

“Okay,” Jules says simply, and then the line goes dead.

Leigh leaves the keys where you left them and takes your note with her.

As the day wears on, your phone remains dishearteningly quiet. You keep checking, hoping for a simple message from Leigh—a thank you for the bed, a comment on the breakfast, or just a note to say she’s left your apartment. But nothing comes through. Each passing hour stretches your patience thinner and makes you question every detail of last night.

Her lack of reaction leaves you with too much time to think. After the debacle with Sara and the no-show date you met from a dating app, you had felt a surge of disillusionment. So much so that last night, after Leigh left your car and walked into the party, you found yourself uninstalling the dating app from your phone in a moment of clarity. You decide it's time to focus on what feels more real, on what your heart has been screaming all along.

Leigh.

You want Leigh, and you’re going to go after her. Forget about Danny. You won't let Leigh spend another Halloween alone, or Christmas, or New Year’s. You're resolved to be there for all the important dates—and, if you're lucky, every day in between.

Hey Leigh, just checking in to see how you’re doing. Hope your day was good, you type and hit send. You won’t wait anymore for her to reach out when you can just let her know you’ve been thinking of her. You toss your phone down and rub your hands on your face. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if she feels the same.

Leigh postpones meeting with Danny until later that evening, having spent the day lounging in bed and replaying the songs you had on in your car the previous night. She received your text, but she hasn’t even opened it yet. It's silly, but she feels that if she starts talking to you, a dam will burst—and she's not ready for that. Instead, she reaches out to Danny, asking him over so they can talk.

When Danny arrives, she doesn't invite him inside. Since Jules and her mom are home, they walk to the front steps and sit side by side, maintaining a slight distance between them.

It’s Danny who breaks the silence first. “Leigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Look, I just think it's a great opportunity for us—or for me, at least. And since you’re not tied down to the Beautiful Beast anymore, and your writing and part-time job are flexible, I thought... Why not?”

Leigh's expression hardens at the mention of her old job, at Danny's reasoning, and his diligent insistence. She didn’t call him over to rehash the fight they just had yesterday.

“Just because I can work from anywhere doesn't mean I want to leave,” she says. “And if we're going to have the same argument again, then you should just go.”

When Danny told Leigh he had landed a job as a retail associate at a high-end hotel in Vegas, he expected she’d be happy for him. She was, but when he suggested they move there for a fresh start, her response was an unflinching no, leaving him feeling wounded.

“But what's really keeping you here, Leigh? I mean, besides your family. Is there something else?” he asks.

At the question, Leigh feels the past and present colliding. First, she sees Matt's face, always Matt's face—his smile, the comfort of his presence that used to fill her days. Then her mind flickers to the times she found herself passing your clinic after long, aimless drives meant to clear her head. Your face starts to overlap with her memories of Matt, not replacing but somehow intertwining.

“Matt,” Leigh forces herself to say, forces herself to believe. “If I leave this place, it's like... it's like I'm leaving him for good. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how it feels.”

“Matt's been gone for a long time. You think he'd want you to just stop living your life? Waiting for what? For a ghost?” Danny argues, his voice rising just a little. He looks away, down the shadowy street. His hands ball into fists and then relax. Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, it’s as if Matt’s shadow stretches beside him, a long, imposing figure that Danny can never seem to escape.

“Leigh, I’m just trying to help us move forward, that’s all,” he continues, softer, more defeated. Leigh catches the tightness of his expression, the effort it takes him to stay calm. She reaches out, her fingertips lightly touching his knuckles. Danny grabs this small sign of affection, quickly cradling Leigh’s face in his hands and drawing her into a fervent kiss. Leigh doesn’t respond immediately, but then she melts into its familiarity, allowing her lips to be pliable to his.

Danny breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he searches Leigh's eyes. “Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave Matt for good,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “I-I don't know, Danny—”

“Leigh, I love you.”

It's the first time either of them has said it. Leigh had imagined fireworks or something clicking into place when it happened. She expected the grand declaration to sweep her off her feet, but instead, she finds herself still teetering on the brink, not quite ready to leap. But what she cannot ignore is the sincerity in his words. Danny has loved her through her worst—in his own way. It's not easy to dismiss or reject such devotion.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Danny says quickly. He's afraid of hearing her say no again. Silence would be better; he could let himself believe that maybe she felt the same way. Silence could mean ‘yes’, right? he thinks, grasping at straws.

“Leigh, I’m taking that job, and I’m leaving after Thanksgiving. That gives us about a month,” he says, cradling her face now with both hands pleadingly. “Please, just think about it. Think about coming with me.”

Despite her reservations, Leigh ends up saying, “Okay, I'll think about it.”

Danny’s face breaks into a smile. He kisses her again, a soft, reaffirming kiss that seems to thank her for even considering his request.

The next second, Jules interrupts the moment, opening the door unceremoniously. Leigh throws her a sharp look, which her sister disregards with a shrug.

“Logan's been barking at the door for some time now, in case you didn't hear,” Jules drawls, cradling a bowl of cereal—her dinner.

At her words, Logan bursts through the opening and makes a beeline for Leigh. He leaps straight into Leigh's lap, settling in with a decisive huff, his eyes darting possessively from Leigh to Danny. It's as if he's laying claim to her, telling Danny without words that Leigh has roots here too deep to simply pull up, saying, she’s mine, you’re not going to take her away from me.

Leigh pulls Logan closer, thinking about how much you’ll miss him if she decides to go with Danny.

You get home from work just after nine, tossing your keys on the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. A quick check of your phone confirms what you'd been dreading all day: Leigh still hasn't read your message from the afternoon. That sinking feeling of disappointment hits you again—harder this time. It’s like a pattern with her: warm and engaging one day, distant and cold the next. You can't deny that this inconsistency is starting to wear on you. It's bordering on cruel.

What are you doing wrong? Why can’t you figure out what makes her switch off like this?

And then, unable to help it, you send another text.

[9:10 PM] You: Is everything okay?

Dinner is a microwave affair tonight, not that you're really tasting any of it. You sit down to eat, your phone still within sight. That message never gets read either.

Leigh has always been unpredictable, but she has never actively avoided you like this before. She knows what she's doing, leaving your messages unread for the past three days. Just when you declare to the universe that you'd pursue her, she shuts you out completely. You can't even feel sorry for yourself; somehow, you brought this on, right?

When the day rolls around for Logan's next vaccine appointment, you catch yourself nervously checking the time more often than usual. But when the appointment time comes, a different Shaw brings him in. Jules holds onto Logan's leash as he excitedly sniffs every corner of the waiting room, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

“Hey,” Jules greets you, a bit out of breath from handling Logan's forceful tugs. “Leigh had some things to take care of, so I'm on Logan duty today.”

“Of course, no problem at all. How’s he been?” You try to keep your tone light as you kneel down to give Logan some attention, scratching behind his ears the way you know he likes.

“He’s been great, a real bundle of energy,” Jules replies, watching you with Logan. She hesitates before adding, “And Leigh’s been... well, you know Leigh.”

Actually, you think, you don't know Leigh—not as well as you thought. “Yeah,” you respond, looking up at Jules with a forced smile. “I know.”

After you administer the vaccine, the appointment passes with small talk, mostly about Logan’s antics and not much else. Jules is friendly but doesn’t venture into whatever might be happening with Leigh.

Just as you’re seeing Jules off, the clinic door swings open again. And you’re completely unprepared for the person who steps in.

“Hi,” Sara smiles at you, and then lifts the kitten in her hands. “Think you can help me with her, doctor?”

In a moment of unpreparedness, you cough awkwardly to cover your reaction, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Hi, Sara,” you say, a bit flustered as you usher her inside. “What do we have here?”

“It's a rescue. Found her all alone by the roadside,” Sara explains, handing the tiny kitten to you with a concerned frown.

Jules catches the interaction, her eyes narrowing slightly—not missing how your entire demeanor changes around Sara—who is undeniably beautiful.

“Right this way,” you tell the blonde, leading her to the examination table. “Let's see what we can do for her.”

As soon as you and Sara are out of earshot, Suzie muses aloud, “They'd make a lovely pair, don't you think? If only Y/N wasn't so hung up on a widow…”

Jules stiffens slightly, her voice cool as she says, “And you are?”

“Suzie,” Suzie responds cheerfully, extending a hand to Jules with a bright smile. “Y/N’s assistant and friend. Nice to meet you.”

Jules shakes her hand, her smile polite but reserved. “Jules,” she responds tersely, omitting her connection as Leigh's sister. “So, what about Sara and Y/N?”

Well, Suzie can’t resist a juicy bit of gossip now, can she?

You don't usually pour yourself a glass of wine on a weeknight, but after today, you've cracked open a bottle that's been gathering dust for a year. Sara’s surprise visit at the clinic left you rattled. She had called you out for being distant after the two of you ran into Leigh one morning, and it embarrassed you how right she was. You hadn't been upfront about your emotional availability—or lack thereof—because of your feelings for Leigh.

When you finally admitted to Sara that you were in love with someone else, you braced for a fallout. But instead, Sara laughed, a light, carefree sound that took you by surprise. “I don't mind if you're emotionally unavailable,” she had said with a shrug. “I'm just looking for something casual.”

For a split second, her proposition—friends with benefits—was like candy being dangled in front of you: appetizing and readily available. But that conversation was at work, in the middle of your clinic, and the timing felt all sorts of wrong.

You let the moment pass without responding, and Sara backtracked a little with a noncommittal, “Well, you have my number. I really like you, Y/N. We can be friends, and if you ever need to…unwind, well, I can be your best friend.”

You're midway through your glass of wine when you decide to check your phone again, automatically opening the chat window with Leigh. It's almost become a habit, expecting your messages to remain unread. But this time, Leigh's avatar is right there under the last text you sent. She's read them. Today.

Why now?

Before you can dedicate the rest of your evening into that question, a knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. It's late, and you don’t remember ordering food delivery. You set your glass down and head over to see who it is.

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a downcast brunette. She looks nervous, clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline.

“Leigh?”

“Hi,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet yours, searching your face for a reaction. As confused as you are, your heart kicks up a notch simply because she’s there, so close you could reach out and touch her. For a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if the alcohol is taking effect and conjuring up your desires right before you.

You notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s standing—a bit too rigid, like she’s bracing for something tough.

Clearing your throat, you start to ask, “Would you like to come—”

“Is she here?” Leigh interrupts abruptly.

You blink in surprise.

“Who?”

“Sara,” Leigh replies, her chin jutting forward. She attempts to peer past you, as if she might find the answer somewhere inside your apartment.

“No, she's not,” you say slowly, puzzled and a bit annoyed by her tone. “Why would she be?”

You can't hide your surprise at her directness, or the discomfort it stirs in you. It's a bit ridiculous, even rude, how Leigh has been avoiding you, leaving your messages unread, and now she's here, asking you about another girl without a preamble. Leigh doesn't wait for an invitation; she brushes past you and steps further into your apartment, her eyes searching every corner of the room.

“I thought you said it didn't work out with Sara,” she says, almost accusingly, turning to face you again. The way she's acting—like she has any right to demand answers about your personal life after days of silence—is starting to grate on your nerves.

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath to quell your rising irritation.

“It didn’t. She brought a kitten to the clinic today, that’s all. We're not seeing each other, Leigh,” you tell her. Although she did tell me she’s interested in sleeping with me, you nearly say aloud.

Leigh’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Then why did Jules…” she trails off, her expression falling as it finally clicks.

Jules lied to her.

“Jules…?” you echo incredulously. “What did she tell you?”

Leigh's confidence wavers even further as she says, “She... she said she met Sara at your clinic. Called her your girlfriend.”

You shake your head, exasperation seeping through your features. “Sara is not my girlfriend,” you repeat firmly. The situation is quickly becoming absurd, and you decide to push a bit, to get to the heart of what's really bothering her. “But what does it matter to you if she was?”

“It doesn’t,” Leigh replies in a flat, unconvincing tone.

“Then what are you doing here?” you ask gently, as if addressing a child mid-tantrum.

Leigh doesn't answer right away, her cheeks glowing red as she looks anywhere but you. She's clearly embarrassed by the entire ordeal, and you find yourself struggling not to smile at the implications of her visit. She's bothered by the idea of you with Sara because—

“Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you once more.

“No, I... maybe. I don't know,” she stammers, then sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she finally meets your gaze. “Yes, I guess I am. I don't like thinking of you with someone else. Is that answer enough?”

As you take another step forward, Leigh instinctively moves back, and this dance continues until she finds herself against a wall. You're close now, close enough to feel the tension radiating from her. Her back is pressed against the concrete, your body just inches from hers, effectively trapping her in the corner.

Leigh doesn’t know at which point she’s closed her eyes. Was it when she felt your breath whisper across her upper lip as you sighed, clearly as affected by the proximity as she was? Or was it when her back met the cool wall, the hard reality telling her she had nowhere else to go? Perhaps it was simply the anticipation, the tightening expectation of your lips meeting hers, the thought of surrendering to this—whatever this is becoming between you.

But then, two seconds pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

The anticipated kiss doesn’t come.

When she finally opens her eyes, the question in yours is unmistakable. You’re near enough, she could just lean in, but you’re giving her a choice, asking without words if this is what she wants. And that’s when she remembers how she ended up at your doorstep. Leigh's mind reels, darting back to Jules' little lie. She's struck by the realization that Jules probably felt compelled to lie because Leigh had been inadvertently pushing you away, leaving a door open for someone else to step in. And if she keeps this up, it might be Sara who ends up here, against your wall, in your arms. The image stabs at her heart, jealousy tightening her chest.

No, she can’t let that happen.

Summoning a courage she didn’t know she had left, Leigh reaches out and gently takes your hand. She brings it to her face, pressing her lips against your palm in a kiss so tender it steals your breath. It’s a silent plea. A tender claim.

It's just a small kiss, simple and soft, but it rushes through you like wildfire, stirring feelings deeper and more intense than any long, drawn-out foreplay ever did. You realize just how much you've been holding back, shielding yourself from potential pain. But now, as Leigh's kiss sears into your palm, all those defenses seem pointless. With a fervor driven by weeks of restrainment, you close the distance entirely.

Your kiss lands on Leigh's lips with everything you have, as if this moment, this single kiss, might be your only chance. Yet, even in your urgency, there's a tenderness, a reverence in the way your lips carefully slot between hers. As you kiss, there's a meticulous attention to the details—the softness of her lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours, the gentle give when you press a little harder. It’s as if you’re trying to memorize her through this kiss.

Leigh matches your ardor, her fingers weaving into your hair, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. You react instinctively, your hands sliding from her hips to her waist, lifting her shirt just enough to feel her skin beneath your fingertips. The slight pressure of your nails makes Leigh gasp, a sound that breaks the seal of your lips just enough for you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past her defenses. The act draws a guttural moan from her—a sound that vibrates through your core, sending ripples of desire pulsating through your body.

It shouldn’t be this perfect the first time, but it is.

The kiss grows wetter, more urgent. It's selfish, a relentless chase of sensation where both of you are simultaneously taking and giving everything you have, until it feels like there's nothing left to offer. While Leigh’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth, her hands find their way to either side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your skin, sending tingles straight down your spine. Your own hands aren't idle. They roam up her back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin under your fingertips. As you slide your hands upward, you discover something that emits a low groan from you—she’s not wearing a bra. A part of you, the rational part that's still functioning, slowly begins to recognize the gravity of what’s unfolding. It's too easy to get lost in Leigh, in the rush and the heat, but something stops you. You want this—more than anything in the moment—but it has to mean something. Because once you cross this line with Leigh, there's no going back to the uninhibited, distant longing you've managed until now.

Just as the thought crystallizes, Leigh breaks the kiss with a wet pop. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, lazily. Her gaze is unfocused at first, pupils dilated, the vibrant green of her irises almost swallowed by the black. Oh, she definitely wants you too.

“Why did you stop?” you murmur, your voice unmistakably laden with desire as you rest your forehead against hers.

A grin tugs at Leigh’s lips as replies softly, “I just wanted to see you.”

Your smile widens as her fingers absentmindedly play with the little hairs at the nape of your neck. She seems mesmerized by your eyes, now darkened with lust, and without thinking, she blurts out, “You really do have espresso eyes.”

Her words make you freeze in her arms. That nickname—it's the same one you use anonymously for your submissions to your favorite advice column. Maybe it's just a coincidence, right?

But Leigh's reaction a moment later suggests otherwise. Her face blanches, eyes widening in a sudden flare of panic as she realizes what she's just said.

“Y/N—” Leigh starts but you cut her off by stepping out of her embrace, your stance becoming guarded.

The warmth vanishes from your eyes. “What did you just say?”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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7seas-of-ryy · 4 months ago

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Not an Early Riser

Author’s Note: Lucien needed some love!! I think he would be such a gentle partner <3 Enjoy this little blurb!

Summary: You never wake up early enough to get a croissant :(

Pairing: Lucien x Reader

Warnings: None, let me know if I need to add any :)

---

Your favorite bakery had been out of croissants for three weeks now. Every time you visited the shop and saw there were none left, you walked out feeling blue. The problem was the store sold out of them so fast in the morning and you were not an early riser.

One late morning you were walking home grumbling about life being unfair when Lucien saw you and stopped you.

"What's wrong?" He spoke with a gentle laugh. He thought your pouting was adorable.

"I never get up early enough to get a croissant from the bakery." You mumbled to the male and kept on walking to your home.

A grin grew on his face and a plan started to form in his mind.

---

The next morning you went to the bakery and instead of hearing bad news, you got the best news ever.

"We have three croissants saved for you." The baker told you, "They've already been paid for as well. Have a nice day!"

Your eyes grew wide with joy and you took the pastries. There was only one person who knew about your misfortune and you knew you had to thank him.

A little while later you were sitting in the library researching when Lucien entered. You saw him and your whole face lit up, remembering what he did for you.

"Oh my, what have I done to deserve such a beautiful smile?" Lucien pondered.

"I know it was you. Thank you, it made my entire week so much better." You exclaimed!

"I'll make sure you have fresh goods every morning if it means your smile will be directed at me." He purred.

A blush took over your face and you looked down, flustered. You cleared your throat and looked back up at the red-haired male.

"Well, I have to get back to my work but I wanted my appreciation known." You said gently.

He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment and you stood on your toes. Before you could stop yourself, you placed a kiss on his cheek. It was Lucien's turn to blush and become flustered now.

You went back to your seat in the library and Lucien was still standing there, fingers touching where your lips met his skin. If he wasn't madly in love with you before, he definitely was now.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

@darkbloodsly @xtreme-shipper @rcarbo1 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @anna-reader-blog

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@iluvyewman-blog @mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @secret-sheee @mariahoedt

@lilah-asteria @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @sinfully-yoursss @hellohauntedturnstudent @acourtofbatboydreams

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#acotar #acotar imagine #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien #lucien fluff #lucien imagine #lucien blurb #lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien x y/n

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burningred1989 · 13 days ago

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A BUDDING CONNECTION

A/N: Harry Styles, charming heartthrob of One Direction, and Y/N, a rising star in the music industry, were thrown together under the orchestrated guidance of Simon Cowell. A PR relationship to generate buzz and keep the tabloids talking—nothing more, nothing less.

MASTERLIST

<<<<<

The morning sun bathed New York City in a crisp, golden glow, and the chaos of Times Square buzzed outside the Good Morning America studio. Inside, One Direction had just wrapped up their electric performance, the screams of fans still echoing in their ears as they were ushered backstage. Harry Styles, with his signature smirk and unruly curls, was buzzing with energy, his green eyes glinting with excitement.

Simon Cowell stood waiting in the hallway, his posture exuding authority. Beside him was a young woman who looked like she had rolled out of bed five minutes ago. Y/N was dressed casually in a slightly oversized sweatshirt and joggers, her hair in a messy bun, and her face fresh without makeup. She held a coffee cup like it was her lifeline, her tired eyes betraying her lack of enthusiasm.

“Ah, there you are!” Simon greeted the boys as they approached. He gestured toward Y/N. “Boys, I want you to meet Y/N. She’s an up-and-coming artist, and I have a feeling she’s going to be the next big thing.”

Y/N glanced up from her coffee and offered a small, tired wave. “Hi,” she said simply, her voice hoarse from what sounded like a late night.

Louis was the first to break the silence. “Bit early for you, is it?” he teased, earning a few chuckles from the group.

“Something like that,” Y/N replied dryly, taking a long sip from her coffee.

Simon stepped in. “Harry, Y/N—this is a perfect opportunity for both of you. We’re setting you two up as a PR couple. Publicity for Y/N, and a bit of buzz for you and the band.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, but he quickly masked his surprise with a charming smile. “Is that so?” he asked, his gaze sliding to Y/N.

Simon nodded. “Yes, that��s so. I want you two to spend time together, be seen together, and let the media pick it up from there. Simple as that.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Right. And I don’t have a say in this?”

Simon gave her a tight smile. “It’s in your contract, love.”

Harry leaned closer to her, his voice low but playful. “Don’t worry. I’m not that bad to hang out with.”

Y/N snorted softly, her initial annoyance softening slightly. “We’ll see about that.”

<<<<<

As the group dispersed, Harry found himself gravitating toward Y/N. Her casual demeanor and unimpressed attitude intrigued him—it was refreshing compared to the usual fawning he encountered.

“So,” he started, falling into step beside her as they walked toward the exit, “is this your usual look, or did you just lose a battle with your alarm clock?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile. “I didn’t know I was meeting royalty today. Otherwise, I’d have rolled out the red carpet.”

“Touché,” Harry said, his grin widening. He liked her quick wit.

She took another sip of her coffee, clearly unimpressed by his charm—or at least pretending to be. “Do you always flirt with your contractual obligations, or am I special?”

Harry chuckled, leaning casually against the wall as they waited for their cars. “Only the special ones. You should feel honored.”

Y/N shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her lips despite herself.

<<<<<

Over the next few days, Simon arranged for them to be seen together—lunches, rehearsals, and even a few staged “casual” outings. The first paparazzi pictures surfaced within a week, showing Harry holding the door open for Y/N as she exited a café, her messy bun now a signature look among fans.

Social media exploded.

- “Who’s this girl with Harry? She’s so real, I love her vibe!”

- “Are Harry and Y/N dating?! She’s gorgeous!”

- “Simon is definitely behind this, but I’m lowkey obsessed with them already.”

Behind the scenes, Harry and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm. Despite the initial awkwardness, they discovered they actually got along well. Harry’s natural charm began to wear her down, and Y/N’s sharp humor kept him on his toes.

One evening, during a particularly long photoshoot for a tabloid spread, Harry leaned in and whispered, "If we're going to keep this up, you might as well admit you're having fun."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Don't push your luck, Styles."

"I'm just saying," he replied with a wink, "you don't seem like you hate me anymore.”

"Yet," she shot back, making him laugh.

PART 2: THE SHIFT

120 notes · View notes

silverstar70 · 2 months ago

Text

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: During a case, Hotch and Y/N let the passion win.

Warnings: 🔞‼️ new relationship, smut, shower sex, friends to lovers, hot, vaginal sex, lots of kisses, cute moments.

Words count: 6,770k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Something new pt.3

Read part 1 and part 2 here.

Behind closed doors

For months now, they’ve been seeing each other, balancing the job and the secret relationship. Not that they didn’t want to tell the team about it, but they just wanted to enjoy whatever they had quietly, without gossip or questions about it.

They managed to keep the team’s prying eyes away, opting for quiet dinners at home instead of restaurants, and stolen moments between cases. Each time they parted ways, the ache of their separation only grew, and each reunion felt like a breath of fresh air.

At first, it had been easy to keep their relationship hidden. Y/N was careful, meticulous about avoiding suspicion. Hotch, too, was guarded; he was used to compartmentalizing his life, separating the personal from the professional. But the longer they were together, the more difficult it became to maintain that distance, especially as the connection between them deepened.

The secrecy, though thrilling in the beginning, was starting to feel like a weight pressing down on them both but in the quiet of his house, when it was just the two of them, it was easy to forget all that.

His bedroom was filled with the warmth of early morning sunlight streaming through the windows.

Y/N was still nestled in his arms, her head resting comfortably against his chest. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments they cherished when the rest of the world seemed far away.

“Morning, Lieutenant,” he murmured, his hand gently running up and down her back.

She smiled, lifting her head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Good morning, Agent Hotchner.”

They stood like that for quite a while, just enjoying each other’s presence knowing that soon they would’ve to go separate ways as their respective jobs were waiting for them. They reluctantly left the bed and headed to the kitchen.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen as Hotch and Y/N sat together, enjoying breakfast. The moment felt perfect—just the two of them, away from the world for a little while. Y/N reached across the table, giving Hotch’s hand a gentle squeeze as they shared a look filled with warmth and familiarity.

But the peacefulness shattered when they heard a sudden knock at the front door. Hotch froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

Y/N frowned. “What is it?”

“Morgan. I was supposed to give him a ride to work today.” His voice was laced with regret, his expression a mix of panic and frustration.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You forgot?”

“Completely,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the room, cataloging the evidence of her presence—her heels left haphazardly near the couch, her jacket draped over the back of a chair, and two coffee mugs sitting beside each other on the table. “We need to hide this. Now.”

They sprang into action, working quickly and quietly. Y/N grabbed her mug and hurried to the sink, rinsing it out while Hotch snatched her jacket, tossing it behind the couch. She rushed to collect her heels, but a second knock echoed through the house, louder and more insistent.

“Hotch, you in there?” Morgan’s voice was muffled but clear.

Hotch shot Y/N a quick, apologetic look. “I’ll handle this.”

“I’ll stay in the bedroom,” she whispered, retreating to the bedroom and flashing him a supportive smile. “Good luck.”

With one last sweep of the room, Hotch opened the door. Morgan stood there, his grin easy but his eyes as sharp as ever. “Morning, Hotch. You ready?”

“Yeah, come in for a minute. I just need to change,” Hotch said, stepping aside and trying to keep his tone casual.

As Morgan entered, his gaze swept the living room. He was always observant, it was part of his nature, and there was no hiding anything from him. Hotch felt a knot tighten in his chest as Morgan’s eyes lingered on the two coffee mugs on the table. His lips twitched into a curious smile, but he didn’t say anything yet.

Hotch made his way toward the bedroom, hoping to avoid any questions, but Morgan’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “You had company, Hotch?”

Hotch paused his back to Morgan, taking a moment before turning around, his expression neutral. “Just me. Jack is with Jessica,” he said, hoping the lie sounded convincing.

Morgan’s eyes were sharp, and his grin grew a little wider. “Right,” he drawled, his gaze drifting to the heels half-hidden behind the couch.

Hotch followed his line of sight and cursed inwardly, realizing he hadn’t fully hidden the heels. He fought to keep his expression composed. “I’ll go change.”

Hotch turned quickly and slipped into the bedroom, where Y/N was standing by the closet, already pulling on her shirt. “He saw the mugs,” Hotch whispered as he grabbed his suit from the hanger. “And your heels. And I need to change fast.”

He slipped off his pajama shirt, and Y/N stood there for a moment, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his back. “Guess I’ll stay hidden until you’re out of here.”

Hotch paused, giving her a grateful smile. “Thanks for being patient.”

“Just part of the job,” she teased, leaning in for a quick kiss before he pulled on his shirt and tie. “Try not to let him figure out all your secrets.”

Hotch smiled at her again, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment before he finished getting dressed. “I’ll be quick.”

He returned to the living room with Morgan, who was lounging on the couch, clearly waiting with a bit of curiosity. “All set?” Morgan asked, eyes sharp as he watched Hotch emerge, fully suited now.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Hotch said, feeling a small wave of relief as he led Morgan out the door. But as they walked to the car, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Morgan’s curious glances weren’t just casual—he knew something was up.

As the door shut behind them, Y/N leaned against the bedroom wall as she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they’d dodged the bullet—at least for now.

After arriving with Morgan, Hotch made his way to his office, his mind still processing the close call they had at home. He shut the door behind him, needing a moment to collect his thoughts, unaware of the storm brewing just outside.

The team was now hanging out in the small kitchen area, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Morgan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, wearing an almost mischievous grin.

“You guys won’t believe what I found out this morning,” he started, his tone conspiratorial.

“What now?” Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

“Hotch is dating someone,” Morgan announced, his voice low but filled with excitement.

Emily nearly choked on her drink. “Wait, seriously? Hotch?”

Morgan nodded, clearly enjoying the dramatic effect. “I swear! I saw some heels lying around his living room.”

“You’re kidding, right?” JJ asked, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Nope,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “So, unless Hotch wears heels, yeah, he’s definitely dating someone. But who could it be?”

Emily raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her features. “You really think Hotch is actually dating someone? He’s so… Hotch.”

“Exactly!” Morgan replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s what makes this whole thing so juicy. Who could possibly get through that wall of his?”

JJ leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the desk as she considered the possibilities. “Maybe it’s someone from outside the Bureau? You know how he is, he’s always so guarded. It could be someone he met at a case.”

Garcia, who had just entered the room, chimed in with her usual flair, her hair bouncing as she spoke. “Or maybe it’s someone from one of our past cases! I mean, he does have that whole brooding, mysterious vibe. Some people are drawn to that, right?”

“Good point, Garcia. But Hotch usually keeps that stuff close to his chest,” Reid interjected, adjusting his glasses as he joined the conversation. “It’s not like he’s the type to broadcast his personal life.”

“True,” Emily agreed, crossing her arms.

Rossi, who had been quietly listening, finally chimed in. “You all have to remember, Hotch is a private guy. If he’s dating someone, it’s probably someone who understands that about him.”

“I bet he’s trying to keep it under wraps for a reason,” Morgan said, glancing around. “But I have a feeling you know more than you’re letting on. You’ve been awfully quiet, Rossi.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. “I’m not in the loop on this one, believe me. If Hotch wants to keep his personal life private, that’s his choice.”

“Come on, Rossi! You know him better than any of us,” Morgan pressed, trying to get a reaction. “You’ve got to know something!”

“Honestly, I don’t,” Rossi replied, chuckling. “I’m as clueless as the rest of you. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he was seeing someone. He deserves a little happiness.”

Just then, Y/N entered the office, catching the tail end of the conversation. She felt a flutter of nerves, knowing how close they were to uncovering her secret with Hotch. She took a deep breath, trying to project an air of calm as she approached the group. “What are you two gossiping about?”

Emily’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Hotch is dating someone,” she said, her tone playful.

Y/N’s heart raced as cold shivers ran down her spine. Panic surged within her, but she quickly masked it with a bright smile, knowing she had to join the speculation to keep the team from growing suspicious. “Oh really? That’s interesting. Any ideas who it could be?” she asked, forcing casualness into her tone.

Morgan leaned in, an exaggerated expression of seriousness on his face. “We were just discussing how it’s probably someone who has to get through that cold, stoic exterior of his.”

Garcia giggled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’d love to do a background check on whoever it is. I need to see if they’re worthy of our Hotch!”

“But what if he’s dating someone we already know?” JJ mused, her brow furrowing in thought. “What if it’s someone from the team’s past? Like a colleague we’ve worked with?”

Garcia’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that would be scandalous! Can you imagine? I mean, think of the stories we could tell. Hotch and a mysterious agent—like a secret spy romance! It’s practically a movie plot!”

Y/N laughed along, though her heart was racing. “Well, he does seem a little different lately. More…relaxed. So, whoever she is, she’s good for him.”

The buzz of conversation filled the bullpen, the team lost in their theories about Hotch’s mysterious love life. Just as Y/N began to relax, hoping their secret would remain intact, the door to Hotch’s office swung open. He stepped out walking towards the team, his expression unreadable, cutting through the chatter with a sense of urgency.

“We have a case,” he announced, his tone low and firm.

For a long moment, no one moved, all eyes were on him, eager for answers.

“What?” Hotch asked, sensing the collective gaze and the charged silence that filled the room.

Garcia, always the boldest, couldn’t resist the opportunity. “Are you dating someone?” she asked, her voice laced with playful curiosity.

Hotch hesitated, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, but it quickly turned to resignation. He glanced around at the expectant faces, the playful smirks, and the knowing looks that practically shouted.

“I—” he began, his mind racing for a way to deflect the question, but the words caught in his throat. There was no way out. The truth hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

“Yes,” he finally confirmed, his voice steady but devoid of details. He saw the surprise ripple through the team, and the spark of gossip ignited instantly. “But I’m not discussing it.”

Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief, while JJ leaned forward, clearly eager for more details. “You’re really dating someone? Hotch, we need names!”

Hotch held up a hand, a firm but gentle reminder to reign in their enthusiasm. “I said I’m not discussing it,” he repeated, a touch of warning in his voice, and walked up the stairs to the conference room leaving the team buzzing with questions.

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “You can’t just drop that bombshell and walk away, Hotch! You have to give us something!”

Y/N was the first to move, walking right behind him and taking the chance for the way out. He felt her presence beside him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered trying to be as sneaky as possible.

Y/N glanced at him, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t be. They’re profilers after all.”

The team had been working on the case for nearly twenty-two hours straight. The suspect remained elusive, and each lead seemed to evaporate, leaving them chasing shadows. Exhaustion weighed heavily on everyone as they entered the hotel lobby.

Hotch approached the desk, his expression professional but strained, while the team waited behind him. As the clerk typed away, a look of mild concern crossed her face.

“There weren’t enough rooms for each of you to have one, but we’ve saved four rooms for you,” she explained apologetically. “We’re fully booked due to a local festival. You’ll have to double up.”

Hotch nodded; his mouth set in a firm line. "That’s fine. We’ll make it work."

Morgan smirked as he exchanged a look with Reid, who gave a small shrug. "Guess it’s one of those nights," Morgan said with a grin, his tone light despite the fatigue weighing on them.

Hotch returned to the group with the keys in hand.

Rossi smirked promptly taking one of the keys. “I’m too old to share the room.”

Morgan rolled his eyes at the older man. “Guess I’m with Reid, then.”

That left Emily and JJ in one room and Hotch and Y/N in another. They exchanged a quick look, a flicker of amusement passing between them, but they kept their expressions neutral.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Lieutenant,” Hotch said with a small, professional smile. He handed her the keycard.

Morgan grinned as he grabbed his key from Hotch’s hand. “You sure about that, Hotch? Hope your girlfriend isn’t the jealous type.”

The comment earned a few smirks and playful glances from the others. Hotch’s expression remained neutral, though his eyes briefly flicked over to Y/N. “It’ll be fine,” he replied calmly, brushing off the remark.

Y/N maintained a neutral expression, nodding as if it were just another professional arrangement. In truth, her heart skipped a beat, and a thrill of anticipation coursed through her.

Having a relationship was a line neither of them had intended to cross, but their bond had grown, and no matter how much they tried to resist, they were drawn to one another. They were careful—very careful. But moments like these, when they were thrown together by circumstance, made it difficult to keep their feelings entirely hidden.

In the hotel room, Y/N set her overnight bag on the side of the bed furthest from the door while Hotch did the same with his. The room was modest, with one queen-sized bed, a desk, and a bathroom tucked into the corner. They fell into their usual routine, maintaining the air of professionalism they wore like armor when around the others. But when they were alone, it was almost impossible to ignore the tension between them.

Y/N felt Hotch’s eyes on her as she opened her bag, retrieving her toiletries and sleepwear. A mischievous grin tugged at her lips as an idea formed in her mind. She could feel the weight of his gaze, a steady, familiar warmth that she had come to know well. Deciding to play into it, she pulled off her blazer slowly, folding it neatly on the bed.

"The shower’s yours," Hotch said, his voice low, his fatigue evident as he loosened his tie. The movement was automatic, yet to Y/N, it felt intimate.

"Or..." Y/N let the word linger, a playful glint in her eyes as she approached him. "We could save water." She watched as the corner of his mouth twitched—he was trying not to smile, but she knew him too well. Before he got the chance to answer, Y/N was already working on her shirt, unbuttoning it one button at a time, taking her time.

His eyes fell on her cleavage, getting a glimpse of the bra she was wearing. Her scent filled his nose, driving him crazy. As much as he was trying to fight the urge to lean closer and kiss her, he needed to stay professional for both their sake.

She slowly walked backward, never losing his gaze while unbuttoning the last few buttons of her shirt. She let it fall on the floor, revealing the black lacy bra she was wearing. Hotch suppressed a groan at the sigh, but his eyes betrayed him; they darkened with lust and desire. She bit her lip at the effect she had on him.

She turned her back to him for one last show. Y/N pulled down her pants, letting them slide down her legs agonizing slowly before stepping out of them. She knew Hotch was still watching and could practically feel the intensity of his gaze that made her skin burn with desire.

“Y/N…” he growled as she stood before his eyes in matching underwear and bra, teasing him. “Stop.”

“Make me, Hotchner.” She chuckled flashing him with a provocative smile before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of the water running in the shower was the only noise that could be heard. In a matter of seconds, her bra flew across the room straight on the bed, quickly followed by her underwear.

As she stepped into the shower, the hot water felt heavenly against her skin, washing away the tension from the long day. She sighed, tilting her head back as the water cascaded down her body. She allowed herself a moment to relax, feeling the soothing warmth.

There was a moment of silence before she heard the rustle of fabric as he discarded his clothes. Her pulse quickened, and she felt the familiar thrill of anticipation. The glass door slid open, and Hotch stepped in, steam rising around them. His eyes, darkened with desire, locked onto hers.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered as he moved closer, water dripping down his bare chest.

She felt his presence behind her, the heat of his body mixing with the steam that surrounded them. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes tracing over his form.

Hotch’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes locked onto hers. Droplets of water clung to his hair and lashes, making him look impossibly handsome, and she felt her heart race. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and so close, was something she never tired of. She reached up, her fingers skimming the droplets off his cheek.

“Are you?” he whispered, his voice husky and quiet, the words almost lost in the sound of the water.

Her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. “Am I what?”

“Jealous,” he clarified, his eyes not leaving hers. There was a flicker of amusement in them, a challenge he knew she couldn’t resist.

Y/N’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. She ran her hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath her fingers, and leaned closer. “No,” she whispered, her voice low and intimate. “Because while everyone else gets to see you in only your suit...” Her fingers traced a lower path, just above his waist, where his abs tightened under her touch. “I get that and this.”

Her eyes roamed over his body, taking in every inch of him, water glistening over the defined muscles of his shoulders, his chest, the smooth planes of his abdomen. “This is just for me,” she said, her voice filled with possessive pride. Her fingers lingered as if to claim him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her touch.

His eyes darkened at her words, the intensity in them heating even further. “Just for you,” he echoed, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver through her.

Hotch’s lips hovered above hers, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with the steam. The anticipation hung heavy between them, and Y/N’s heart pounded. She felt the electricity in the air, a pull that she knew they would both give into.

His lips brushed against hers, featherlight, teasing as he let the words sink in. But as the tension snapped, his mouth captured hers in a searing kiss. It was intense, filled with the hunger and passion they had been holding back all day. His hands moved up her back, pulling her flush against him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as the water poured down over them.

Every touch felt electric. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his wet hair as she pressed closer, feeling the heat of his body melding with hers. Hotch’s hands roamed, memorizing every curve as he gripped her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The kiss was desperate and unrestrained, each moment a reminder of how hard they worked to keep their connection hidden. Here, in the privacy of the shower, they could let their guard down, and Y/N reveled in it.

The steam swirled around them, adding to the intensity of the moment. The droplets ran down their intertwined bodies, leaving trails on their skin as the hot water cascaded over them. Y/N felt Hotch’s fingers slide down her back, tracing the length of her spine before resting on her hips, grounding them in this moment.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against his. “I love it when you let go,” she whispered, her voice a soft murmur against his lips. “When you’re just... mine.”

He chuckled a low sound that sent another shiver through her. “I’m always yours,” he whispered, his hands tightening on her hips, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her knees weak.

Y/N’s lips curled into a smile as she met his gaze, feeling the truth in his words. “Good,” she breathed, before pressing another lingering kiss to his lips.

The kiss grew deeper, more desperate, and as their bodies pressed together under the steady spray of water, the heat between them only intensified.

Y/N’s fingers trailed down Hotch’s chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath her fingertips, the steady rhythm of his breathing quickening as she explored. Every touch was electric, and the air between them buzzed with tension.

Hotch's hand gripped her waist, the strength in his hold making her shiver. As their kiss deepened, Y/N felt his need—his desire—matched by her own. She responded, her hands threading through his damp hair, pulling him even closer. He groaned softly against her lips, the sound vibrating through her, and she arched into him, reveling in the way his body reacted to her touch.

“Y/N…” he breathed against her mouth, his voice husky, the sound barely audible above the rush of the water. His lips trailed along her jaw, down the side of her neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin, eliciting soft whimpers of pleasure from her.

“Hotch,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as her head tilted back, giving him more access. The feel of his lips and the scrape of his stubble against her skin sent shivers coursing through her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, the firm muscle beneath her touch grounding her in the moment.

Hotch’s hands roamed over her skin, exploring every curve and dip, each caress igniting her senses. He slipped his hands under her wet hair, tilting her head back slightly to give him better access to her neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along her collarbone.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against her skin, the heat of his breath sending shivers coursing through her. The worshipful tone in his voice made her feel cherished and desired in a way that sent her heart racing.

“Just for you,” she replied breathlessly, the words spilling from her lips as she leaned into him, craving more of his touch.

The heat between them was almost unbearable, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken. His mouth hovered just above hers, their breaths mingling as they paused, both of them caught up in the anticipation of what came next.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low, filled with a mix of caution and desire. Even in their most passionate moments, he always put her comfort first, a gesture that made her heart swell.

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “More than okay,” she whispered, pulling him closer, her fingers trailing down his back. “It’s perfect.”

He captured her lips again, this time with an intensity that took her breath away. His hands roamed over her body, claiming every inch as his own. “You always do this to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, filled with a mix of frustration and desire. “You push me, and then I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smirk, her chest rising and falling quickly as she caught her breath. “I like it when you lose control,” she whispered, her voice a soft challenge.

He groaned, his forehead resting against hers as his hands moved down her sides, the heat of his touch like fire against her skin. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he breathed, and she felt his lips graze the side of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made her head spin.

She arched her back, pressing into him as his mouth moved lower, tasting the droplets of water that ran along her skin. “Anything you want,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as his hands gripped her hips with more force.

His eyes met hers again, and she saw the flicker of restraint he was trying to hold onto. But when she pulled him closer, she felt the shiver that ran through him. “Aaron...” she breathed; her voice filled with need.

That was all it took. He pushed her harder against the wall, and she felt the cool tiles press into her back, heightening every sensation as the heat of his body enveloped her. His lips met hers in a searing kiss, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped as his hands traveled lower, gripping her thighs and pulling her closer.

She moaned softly into the kiss, the sound echoing off the walls of the small shower. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of his touch, and Y/N felt as if she were melting under the weight of it all.

As the kiss deepened, Hotch’s body pressed against hers, the firm muscles of his chest against her softer curves. The sensation made her heart race, and she arched into him, feeling the intensity of his desire mirroring her own. Her hands explored the length of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, and she knew he was holding himself back.

“Don’t,” she whispered against his lips. “Don’t hold back.”

Her words seemed to ignite something in him, and he groaned softly, the sound deep and raw. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her while keeping her back pressed against the wall.

“Aaron!” Y/N gasped, surprised by the suddenness of the move, but she quickly melted against him and wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the strength in his hold as he anchored her there. The closeness of their bodies, the heat of his skin against hers, made her shiver.

The pressure of his erection against her core sent a thrill of desire racing through her, making her squirm with need. She could feel his muscles tense beneath her palms as she gripped his shoulders, drawing him even closer.

He breathed, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto hers, and she felt a thrill run through her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She grinned, brushing her lips against his in a teasing kiss. “Oh, I think I do.” Her hands moved, cupping his face, her thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw. “And I love it.”

The kiss that followed was searing, full of the passion they had been holding back. Hotch’s grip tightened, and she felt the urgency in his touch as if he couldn’t get enough. His lips moved down her neck, sucking and biting gently, and she moaned, her fingers threading through his hair.

“Hotch,” she gasped as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear. He nipped at her skin, and she shuddered, the pleasure mixing with the intensity of the moment. The feel of his body pressed against hers, the way he moved with her, made her feel like every nerve in her body was on fire.

The water continued to pour down over them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths. His hands moved to his erection as he entered her slowly. The sensations were overwhelming, and she leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as she let herself get lost in the moment.

He groaned against her skin, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers through her. His hands gripped her tighter, and she felt the strength of his hold, the way he cradled her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“God, Y/N…” he murmured, his voice rough and breathless. His eyes bore into hers, the depth of his feelings clear even in the haze of passion. “You drive me crazy.”

She grinned, feeling the powerful muscles flex under her touch. “Good,” she whispered, her voice low and teasing.

He kissed her again, and this time, it was deeper, more intense. He began to move, slowly at first creating a tantalizing rhythm that made her heart race. The friction between them felt divine, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Y/N let out a soft moan, her head falling back against the wall as she savored the sensation of his body pressing against hers. “Yes, just like that,” she encouraged, urging him on.

Hotch picked up the pace, their bodies moving in a feverish dance beneath the warm spray of the shower. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure radiating through her, building a heat that coiled tightly within her. She could feel the tension building, her body responding eagerly to each movement, every thrust sending her closer to the edge.

“Oh God, Aaron.” She moaned softly as her finger tangled in his hair.

Time seemed to blur as they continued, the intensity building with every touch, every kiss. Hotch’s hands gripped her hips tighter, his movements becoming more urgent, fingers digging into her skin as he held her tightly.

Y/N loved the way he took control, the way he could make her feel so wanted, so alive. She met his movements with equal fervor, grinding her hips against him, eager for more. The sensations were overwhelming and all-consuming.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice thick with need as he pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the humid air. “You feel incredible.”

She gasped at his words, the way he spoke them as if they were a secret only meant for her. “So do you,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch.

The tension between them reached a boiling point, their breaths quickening, the world outside fading completely as they lost themselves in each other. Every movement felt electric, each touch igniting a fire within her that she had never experienced before.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he urged, his voice low and raw, urging her to give voice to her desires.

“I want you,” she gasped, the urgency in her voice matching the frantic rhythm of their bodies. “I want to feel you... all of you.”

Hotch groaned at her words, his desire evident as he captured her mouth again, kissing her with an intensity that made her toes curl. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the slickness of the water heightening every sensation, every touch.

“Just like that,” he murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her thighs tighter, pulling her closer as he drove deeper. The rhythm of their bodies intensified a primal connection that made her feel utterly alive.

Y/N felt the tension coiling tighter inside her, the heat building to an almost unbearable level as they continued to lose themselves in each other. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge, her body responding eagerly to every movement.

“Please, don’t stop,” she urged her voice a breathy whisper filled with need.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice thick with desire. “I want you to feel everything.”

With that, he picked up the pace, their bodies moving in a heated rhythm that felt incredible. The sound of water splashing around them mixed with their soft groans, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed in the small space.

Y/N felt her breath hitch as the tension in her core built to an unbearable level, each thrust sending her spiraling closer to release. “Aaron…”

Hotch’s lips found her neck again, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin, making her gasp with pleasure. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her skin, his words igniting a spark of pride within her.

“Just for you,” she managed to gasp, the words barely escaping her lips as the pleasure coursed through her, making her feel dizzy.

Their bodies moved together with an urgency that felt all-consuming, and Y/N could feel herself teetering on the edge. Every thrust brought her closer, each kiss igniting a new wave of desire that made her feel alive.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his grip tightening on her thighs as he moved faster, the intensity of their connection driving them both wild. “You’re incredible.”

The heat between them was overwhelming, every touch, every kiss, setting her ablaze. Y/N felt her body responding to him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as the pleasure reached a fever pitch. “I’m so close,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

“Let go,” he urged, his breath hot against her ear. “I’m right here with you.”

With those words, Y/N felt the dam break. The pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave, pulling her under as she surrendered to the sensation. “Aaron!” she cried out, her body trembling as she let go completely, every nerve ending alive with pleasure.

Hotch groaned her name, the sound sending another wave of ecstasy through her as he followed her over the edge, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, caught in the aftermath of their passion.

Y/N felt the world around them dissolve, the warmth of the water cascading over their bodies as they clung to each other, riding the waves of pleasure together. The intensity of the moment left her breathless, her heart racing as they both slowly came down from the high.

They held each other tightly, their bodies entwined beneath the warm spray of the shower, the world outside forgotten. The heat and steam swirled around them, cocooning them in their private paradise.

“That was…” Hotch started, his voice rough and low. He trailed off, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Perfect,” she finished for him, her voice filled with satisfaction and affection.

“Just for you,” Hotch whispered again, his voice low and sincere, as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, grounding her in the moment, his hands lingering on her hips as he steadied her.

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. “Always just for you,” she replied, wrapping her arms around him as the water continued to flow, washing away the remnants of their passionate encounter.

As the last remnants of steam dissipated in the air, Y/N and Hotch reluctantly stepped out of the shower, water dripping from their bodies as they exchanged playful glances. The bathroom floor was slick beneath their feet, but they hardly noticed, their minds still lost in the aftermath of their heated encounter.

Hotch wrapped a towel around his waist, the fabric clinging to his hips, accentuating his muscular frame. Y/N couldn’t help but admire him, a satisfied smile creeping onto her lips as she caught his eye.

“Now that was a shower to remember,” he remarked, his voice teasing yet sincere, as he tossed her a towel.

She caught it deftly, wrapping it around herself, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. “Definitely,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

He stepped closer, their bodies mere inches apart, the warmth of his presence making her heart race. “I think we should have more ‘rememberable’ moments like that,” he said, his voice low and rich, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down her spine.

“Agreed,” she responded, a smirk dancing on her lips as she took a step back, leading him toward the bedroom. The allure of the bed was almost magnetic, and Y/N felt her heart flutter in anticipation.

As they entered the dimly lit room, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her. The bed was inviting, the sheets crisp and cool, contrasting with the heat that still lingered between them. She climbed onto the bed, the soft fabric enveloping her as she settled against the pillows, her heart racing at the thought of what was to come.

Hotch followed her, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness as he joined her. They sank into the mattress, the weight of their bodies creating a comfortable indentation, a perfect spot for them to unwind.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the intensity of their earlier encounter still swirling in the air around them. Hotch propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze studying her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“Do you think anyone suspects anything?” he asked, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice.

Y/N laughed softly, her fingers brushing against his chest, tracing the outline of his muscles. “I don’t think they have a clue,” she replied. “But they know you’re seeing someone so it’s only a matter of time.”

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “I hope they don’t figure it out too soon. I’m not ready for that conversation yet.”

“Neither am I,” she admitted, her expression turning serious for a moment. “But I wouldn’t change anything about tonight.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. It was different from the urgency of their earlier passion; this kiss was slow and deliberate, a silent promise exchanged between them.

Y/N melted into him, savoring the warmth of his body against hers. As they pulled away, she felt a sense of peace settle within her, knowing that this was where she belonged.

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked softly.

“Just how perfect this feels,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.”

He turned his head slightly to meet her gaze, his eyes searching hers. “Me neither,” he admitted, his expression sincere. “This is…different.”

“Good different?” she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Definitely good different,” he replied, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

Y/N leaned in to press her lips against his once more, in a soft and lingering kiss. As they broke the kiss, Y/N nestled her head against Hotch’s chest, feeling the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

The warmth of his body surrounded her, and the soft rise and fall of his breathing lulled her into a sense of calm. His arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her close as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

Y/N let out a contented sigh, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. She felt safe, cherished, and completely at ease. “Goodnight, Aaron,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as sleep began to tug at her.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Sweet dreams.”

With that, they settled into the quiet of the night, the warmth of their bodies entwined as they drifted into a peaceful sleep, secure in each other’s arms. In that moment, everything felt right.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch #aaron hotchner fic #ssa aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #criminal minds

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woongisi · 13 days ago

Text

Bite Me, Bite You // Park Sunghoon

vers!vampire!Park Sunghoon (sub heavy) x vers!fem!Reader // SMUT

WC// 5.4k

Synopsis// Your hot neighbor in your new town is a vampire. You each have a lot to learn, about both each other and the world around you.

Warnings// smut obviously, bloodplay, blood drinking, biting, usage of "good boy" and "ma'am", intoxication (outside of intercourse), piv intercourse with no protection (pls wrap it before you tap it y'all)

Authors Note// It's MY vampire mythos and i can do what I want with it!!! No but fr I hope this is decent. I'm worried the quality went down as i wrote.... anyways, I am back.

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About 3 years ago, you decided to move to the historic district of a nearby city. You lived in a big city before that and eventually, the noise and danger of living somewhere so urban got to you. The historic district was quiet and charming—every building comprised of brick and mortar, boasting an ornate gothic revival style architecture. Every time you stepped outside you felt like you'd been transported back in time, walking down the cobblestone roads that had tripped you time and time again. You never did get sick of it. How could you? The narrow streets and wafting scents of fresh pastries always soothed you. You were never a morning person, and yet you found yourself waking up early many days just so you could watch the golden sunlight wash over the towering roof and steeple of the church just down the way. On some autumn mornings, you were lucky enough to catch the borderline unearthly fog that hung heavy on the town.

At some point over the years, you came to accept that your neighbor, Sunghoon, was a vampire. The day you moved in he had helped you move your furniture in, bracing it high so that he wouldn't mar the original hardwood floors of your home. You had a suspicion he'd been yelled at one too many times for doing exactly that. When all was said and done you invited him to sit on the porch with you for a while. You asked him how long he'd lived in these parts to which he claimed it was longer than you can imagine. You made a quick quip about how it couldn't possibly be that long, he looked far too young. He only chuckled a bit in response, flashing a toothy smile. A toothy smile that possessed some exceptionally sharp canine teeth.

The night you found out Sunghoon was an honest-to-god vampire, you'd stayed out far too late. You were a bit too drunk, and he was your designated guardian on such nights. He never drank alcohol, and now that you'd thought about it, you'd never seen him drink anything unless it was in an opaque water bottle containing what he claimed was a secret. Stumbling through your doorway, you threw yourself on the couch with a groan. Sunghoon followed shortly after, taking a detour to the fridge to get you a cold glass of water. He helped you sit up, handing you the water. Noticing that you were really struggling with getting it to your mouth, Sunghoon had taken your chin between his pointer and thumb, using his other hand to take your own and bring the glass to your lips.

“Slow.” He murmured. “If you keep trying to chug it like that, you'll make yourself nauseous.”

“Are you flirting with me!?” You slurred, alluding to the somewhat sensual grasp he had on you.

“Do you want me to be?” He cocked his head to the side with a smirk.

You thought about it for a moment but lost your train of thought before you could reply. You gestured for Sunghoon to take the water away from you.

“Hey! I know what you are.” You whisper-yelled. “You're a vampire. I know it!”

“Are we in Twilight or something?” His face twisted in faux disgust. Ah, here goes nothing. “You aren't wrong though.”

You shouted in triumph, smacking his shoulder playfully. That was until your face dropped. A… vampire…? You spent the next hour interrogating him.

“Is that why you never eat?”

“Mhm.”

“Ok, well… why can I see your reflection?”

“Modern mirrors aren't backed with silver anymore.”

“Then why have we been going out in the sun for the last year!?”

“That whole thing is just a myth. We’re more sensitive to the sun, but it won't kill us.”

“Hm.”

You made Sunghoon promise he wouldn't try to feed on you, which he complied easily. He asserted that you could discuss this whole thing in the morning when you weren't so wasted. You nodded wearily, yawning dramatically. With that, he helped you to your bed, telling you to keep laying on your side lest you throw up and drown yourself. In no more than a couple of minutes from the moment your head hit the pillow, your consciousness faded and lulled you to sleep.

Come the present day, you found yourself curled up in your bed with Sunghoon at your side. It was supposed to simply be platonic, watching movies and hanging out, but that line has become blurred at some point. You hadn't kissed or anything of that sort, but things had certainly progressed ambiguously. Neither of you cared much to work out what you were to each other. You only knew you loved the feeling of his cold skin against yours, which was comparatively blazing. You did seem to get suspiciously warmer when he was around.

At some point or another, he'd practically moved in with you. You weren't sure when only that he didn't seem to go home anymore. You didn't mind. Oftentimes he slept on your couch, or more like rested. He didn't actually need to sleep. Sometimes, though, you let him in your bed. More often than not you'd wake up to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house, or the scent of fresh puff pastries from down the road. You figured Sunghoon’s unexpected cooking prowess came from his many many years of life experience. It was nice to spend your days and nights with him.

Lately, you had taken note of how Sunghoon’s eyes seemed to linger on you more than usual. Frankly, it made you nervous. Even if you ignored the whole vampire situation. Sunghoon was undeniably attractive, and he was right next to you. Even when you weren't looking at him, you could sense him boring a hole into the side of your head. His eyes were always dark. The deep brown color of his irises bordered on black, glossy and reflecting everything he looked at. You tried to avoid maintaining eye contact with him most of the time, knowing you could get lost in his intoxicating gaze. You'd studied the fine sculpt of his face many times before. His nose was rather large, with a remarkably straight bridge that never failed to impress you. The tip of it pointed upward so very slightly, you wouldn't have noticed it if he were simply some stranger passing you on the street. Your favorite thing about him had to be his moles. He had 6 that you knew of. The most prominent ones rested under his right eye and on the leftmost side of the bridge of his nose. One was above his left nostril, another by his lip, and the faintest of all was just above the left portion of his upper lip. The only one you know of that wasn't on his face was about halfway down his neck.

Truthfully, you wanted nothing more than to pounce on him. Months of flirty remarks and fleeting touches were beginning to build up. This particular day you were both making subtle moves. His hand inching ever so slightly toward your inner thigh. Your hand gradually sliding up his chest. You couldn't forget to acknowledge the silky smooth muttering in your ear. That was it. You couldn't wait any longer.

“Sunghoon…” You took your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sunghoon turned his head to look at you, though he was blatantly staring at your lips.

“If you say no, pretend this didn't happen. Can… Can I kiss you?”

His thick brows turned upward in surprise. The shock soon morphed into a devious grin.

“I thought you'd never ask. You may.”

Without so much as another word, you shifted to straddle his hips, ensuring you had him stuck in place against the headboard. Your eyes flitted between Sunghoon’s dark eyes and plush lips briefly before you cupped the side of his face and took his lips into your own. The kiss was hungry, desperate from months of tension. Sunghoon’s hands came to rest on your hips with a harsh grip.

His hands roamed the shape of your body at his discretion, eagerly as if he was trying to memorize every part of you. Sunghoon peppered kisses from your forehead down to your ankles which landed him on the floor, kneeling. He grasped your wrist, turning it over so he could kiss your pulse point.

“I know when you first found out about me, you made me promise not to feed… Of course, you can say no but please, please can I bite you?”

Your lips pursed in a small frown but admittedly the idea didn't scare you so badly as it once did.

“It doesn't hurt that badly. I swear. It… yeah. It doesn't hurt that badly.”

His eyes had begun to well up with tears. He was desperate, truly. It was hard for you to process how badly he seemed to want you. Ever since you met him he'd wondered about the taste of your warm blood.

“Please? Just your wrist?” Sunghoon whimpered. “Just need to taste you.”

You hesitated for a minute, staring into his wet pleading eyes. Fuck it.

“Fine. But if I tell you to stop then you better.”

“I will, I promise. You trust me, don't you?”

You nodded, letting Sunghoon grasp your hand. He remained on the floor with his legs folded neatly underneath him. Soft, slow kisses peppered the inner side of your wrist. Sunghoon whispered a thank-you against your skin before opening his mouth wide and sinking his fangs into your wrist, right into a prominent vein.

“Ow, shit!” You winced and resisted your instinct to pull your arm out of his grasp. The pain was sharp, nearing an icy cold, but it didn't last long before a red-hot warmth began to spread outward, originating from the point of his bite.

Sunghoon looked undeniably hot like this. Eyes squinted to the point of almost being closed. Upon releasing his teeth from you, he whispered small words of gratitude between laps of the flowing blood. This was quite interesting, you thought, given you spent your life thinking vampires would suck blood up through their teeth like straws. This was… sexier. The way he had to nip and suck at your already bruising skin in order to drink.

“Sunghoon,” You called softly. “Enough.”

He swiveled his head to look up at you, ceasing his ministrations in an instant and pressing firmly on your puncture wounds with his thumb to stop the bleeding. The way he looked at you like you were the most divine meal known to humanity made your stomach twist, especially with the way your blood stained his lips and dribbled down the form of his chin. Motioning to get off his knees and onto the bed instead, you were shocking yourself with your own decisions.

“Kiss me.”

Sunghoon paused.

“Don't you want me to, you know, rinse my mouth out?”

“Hmm… No.”

“Oh, shit.”

At that, Sunghoon wasted no time in positioning himself back on the bed. Much like you were in the beginning, you settled your legs on either side of his hips. There was a new spark in his eyes, increasingly desperate and intrigued. A chill ran down your spine with the metallic tang that quickly overtook your taste buds once you pulled Sunghoon back into a kiss. This, you thought, had to be the most taboo thing you'd ever done.

“You're something special, you know that?” Sunghoon growled between kisses. This he meant. He had been intimate with humans before, provided how long he'd been around it would be odd if he hadn't. However, many of them never let him get even close to this point. Being with you now had his mind growing foggy and heavy with lust. The curiosity of how much more he could get away with rattled through his thoughts.

The coiling sensation of need in the pit of your stomach was starting to become too intense for you to ignore much longer. Experimentally, you took the initiative to rock your hips back and forth just a bit. Sunghoon tensed up beneath you with a barely audible noise of surprise. The toothy smirk that followed felt like it was about enough to make you pass out on the spot. You felt a thrill of pleasure and power over him upon increasing the pace, your hips rolling in circles. His breathing quickened and his hands moved to grip your hips, his grip tight and unyielding. You knew just based on how pliant he'd become that he was at your mercy, and you were absolutely thriving.

“I never took you as the submissive type, Sunghoon.”

“Ah, the more you know. I- I never took myself as it either.”

The initially jarring flavor of your blood against your tongue had started to become less disconcerting. Something about the moral implications of what you were engaging in set a churning fire in your stomach. Much to Sunghoon’s dismay, you ceased your movements though his disappointment didn’t last long.

“Want you to touch me,” You muttered against his lips. He hesitated for a moment, surprised by the sudden request, before happily agreeing. His hands roamed your body shakily, exploring every contour. You felt a warmth spread through you at his touch, despite his skin being so cold. Sunghoon’s hands came to grasp at your chest, absentmindedly rubbing gentle circles around your nipples with his thumbs. You hadn't bothered to wear a bra tonight, your blouse being the only enduring barrier between him and your bare chest. Your hands came to rest with one tangling into his jet-black locks of hair and the other on the small of his back. Sunghoon tucked his head into the space between your head and shoulder, nipping at your neck lightly. Just enough to cause a pleasurable yet painful sensation.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts whilst Sunghoon continued his musings. As dazed as you were starting to feel, you felt some semblance of peace. The man you'd been lusting over for so long was here with you, with the last slivers of fading sunlight illuminating your forms. His body felt so right against yours. His innate coldness melding with your burning heat created the perfect temperature balance. You came back to your senses at a particularly high whine from Sunghoon and a tug at the hem of your shorts.

“Yes, Hoon?”

“May I touch you here, too?”

His fingertips ghosted over your groin. You nodded. Now, with his glossy eyes staring at you hazily, you could take proper note of the dribbles of drying blood around his mouth. After repositioning so that your back was against Sunghoon’s chest, you untied the strings of your black paperbag-styled pants and slipped out of them easily to reveal your underwear. They were relatively basic, bright red and soft material, though a thin band of white lace at the waistband added some visual intrigue. A satisfied smirk crossed Sunghoon’s face, did you wear these specifically for him?

One of his limber fingers dragged up and down the vaguely discernible form of your cunt, applying just enough pressure to make your breath catch in your throat. Your head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut to allow you to savor the moment. None of his movements were particularly special, it was only the fact it was Sunghoon that was sending shockwaves through your body. Sunghoon stopped only to hook his fingers through the bands of your panties and tear them off with ease. This prompted a gasp of surprise from you.

“Swear I'll get you new ones,” He sighed. “Though I have a feeling from this point onward you won't be needing them when you're around me.”

There wasn't ample time to process before Sunghoon returned his hand to its previous locale. With one quick motion, he gathered your arousal on his fingertips and landed an exceptionally light slap on your clit.

“Oh hell, Sunghoon, give me some warning.” You whimpered but melted against his touch regardless.

Rubbing slow circles against you, he issued a glaringly insincere apology, noting that with how slick you were already you didn't seem to find it unenjoyable. He spread your hole open with his pointer and index fingers, allowing him to rub and prod with his middle finger. He'd only inserted down to his second knuckle, teasing you wordlessly.

“More- Please more, promise I can handle it.”

“As you wish.”

“Are we in The Princess Diaries n-”

Your chiding was cut short by Sunghoon sinking two fingers into you, forming what resembled the sign language for ‘ILY’ with his hand. Resisting how you clenched around his digits, he took a moment to stretch and familiarize himself with the contours of your insides.

“You're so warm, love. Feels amazing.”

With your prompting and guidance, he soon found a pace that suited both of you, his fingers thrusting in and out tactfully and curling just before his pull outwards each time. You'd started to tremble with the added joy of his free hand groping at your tits through the material of your sleep shirt. Every time Sunghoon pumped inward, his palm hit firmly against your clit and added another intoxicating layer to the increasing pleasure filling your core.

Sunghoon was gaining from this too. Your subconscious jerks and wriggles provided consistent enough friction against his cock, which strained painfully against his pants, were enough to leave him hungering for more. It had been some time now since he'd last been intimate with anybody. He found he could seduce pretty much anyone he desired through his odd appeal, but he never found that to be any fun. It was far more interesting to let things develop naturally, the chase, even if it meant waiting longer than he wanted. It was always more fulfilling this way. He had all the time in the world to make it happen regardless.

Breathing in Sunghoon’s scent, and what you suspected were pheromones, you found yourself approaching your climax swiftly. You directed him to stop, much to his surprise.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked softly. “Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head, watching with intrigue when Sunghoon removed his fingers from your hole and mindlessly licked his fingers. Damn.

“You're doing amazingly, but… I'd like to suck you off if you're up to it. I'm curious about this submissive side of you.”

Before you knew it you were sitting with your knees folded beneath you at the end of the bed. Sunghoon grabbed his long discarded coat and folded it neatly for you to rest on, guarding your knees from the unforgiving hardwood flooring. Sunghoon unfastened the top 3 buttons of his white undershirt which revealed a tantalizing view of his collarbones and the majority of his chest. You had seen him in rather tight-fitting tank tops before but seeing his bare skin made you feel faint.

You cupped the form of Sunghoon’s cock that pressed through the black gabardine fabric of his pants which pulled a low groan out of him. At some point, he lost track of the last time someone else touched him in such a manner but this, he thought, made it well worth the wait. You were growing too eager to keep it up for long though. One of your hands slid up beneath his shirt which sent a shiver up his spine, the other fumbling to undo the silver pants button and pull down the zipper. You found your gaze fixated on the wet patch forming on his white boxer briefs. Hell, he really was enjoying this. Deciding you were too impatient to remove things any further, Sunghoon pushed the waistband of his pants down enough to allow you to pull his underwear down to his thighs.

A shaky sigh rattled Sunghoon’s body, relishing in the feeling of his cock finally being freed and slapping against his stomach. The tip was glistening, swollen, and came to rest just a little ways beneath his naval. Yet there was one overarching surprise. A piercing below his glans, a barbell made of what you assumed to be black stainless steel or titanium. Sunghoon seemed to notice you staring and shifted slightly.

“I can take it out if it's off-putting.”

“No,” You felt your cheeks flush deeper if that was even possible. “I'm curious. I think… I think that it suits you well.”

Sunghoon sighed and made a small noise of acceptance. You told him not to touch you unless instructed, moving one hand to caress the smooth skin of his inner thigh. You could feel him tense beneath your touch. Taking his shaft into your grasp, you rubbed small circles to his tip before taking a few lazy strokes to spread his precum down the entire length. Cracking a somewhat wicked smirk, you looked up at Sunghoon, letting spit run down your chin onto his cock. Maintaining eye contact all the while, trying to ignore how his dewy eyes made your stomach churn. Finally connecting your lips to the head of his length made Sunghoon jump, his hand flying forward to cup your cheek but stopping just before making contact, choosing obedience instead. A little pinch to the thigh conveyed your approval.

His girth sat comfortably in your mouth, pleasantly heavy against your tongue. Sunghoon wasn't all that veiny, though the defined underside of his shaft made up for it in your eyes. While it made no difference when it came to sensation, he had two small moles dotted along his cock which in some odd way you found sort of cute. You were glad to learn he had moles below his neck after all.

Taking your time, you peppered feather-light kisses down his shaft, sometimes allowing more time for you to prod at the slit of his tip with your tongue. You eventually fit the entirety of him in your mouth. Despite your field of view only consisting of Sunghoon’s lower abdomen, the sounds of him panting and trying to suppress moans painted a perfectly vivid scene in your mind. You started to bob your head up and down, lending extra attention to his piercing, moving it around tactfully with your tongue. Every movement pulled muted cries from Sunghoon as he did his best not to chase the pleasure with bucking hips.

Figuring he'd been behaving aptly, you grasped Sunghoon's hand and let him card his fingers through your soft hair. Finally, you felt you were beginning to break him down wholly. Once he began to beg, you cupped his balls in the palm of your hand. Damn. They were quite large, you mused to yourself, rather even.

“Shit- Please! Please, please!”

You removed your mouth from his cock for just long enough to mess with him.

“Please what?” You giggled. “Use your words.”

Knowing exactly what he wanted, you didn't grant him any time to reply, taking his entire length back down your throat in one fell sweep. A shocked moan tore through Sunghoon’s throat, accidentally yanking your hair harshly.

“Mmph, gonna cum-” His breath caught harshly in his chest. “So close, don't stop, please!”

Just before he'd have tumbled over the edge to his orgasm, you completely removed yourself from him. Sunghoon's eyes shot open, and you swore there were tears in his eyes. He let out a pathetic whine and demanded to know why you quit when he was so close.

“We aren't done yet. We aren't done yet and I want every drop of cum you've been storing for god knows how long.”

Yeah, Sunghoon was sure now. You were going to be the end of him.

“Come on, Hoonie, let me take care of you.”

Sunghoon nodded meekly, heeding your command to settle near the headboard, leaning his back against it. He had discarded the rest of his clothing in the process, save for the tight fitting white tank he'd worn under all his layers.

“So,” Your hands wandered to his toned triceps. “You've been hiding all this?”

“Been saving it for you, baby.” Sunghoon tried to maintain his suave exterior, but you knew better than that now. Even then, the uncertain laugh he let out after told all.

Crawling onto his lap, your knees settled on either side of his hips. You took Sunghoon's cock in your hand again, keeping him in place so you could slowly rub yourself against him, the warmth of your folds making him shiver. His arm raised to wrap around the small of your back before dropping back into place, something that didn't go unnoticed by you. Despite not having said anything for a while he seemed to have kept your previous command in mind.

“Hmm. Aren't you obedient?”

“Yes, ma-” He stuttered. “Yes…”

You cocked an eyebrow and urged him to say what he was going to say to begin with. With a whine he commented that you were mean… though that wasn't stopping him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Sunghoon's eyes fluttered closed for only a second’s time before he locked eyes with you, intensely and with pupils blown wide. “Yes, ma'am. I wanna be so good for you.”

“Christ…” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Alright. You can touch, love, but don't you even think about cumming until I tell you to. Ok?”

Sunghoon was quick to agree to your conditions and wasted no time in getting his grip on your soft skin. Lining his length up with your hole, you gradually sunk down until your hips were flush with his. You stayed still for a few moments, claiming it was to let Sunghoon get accustomed to being inside you, but truthfully you needed the time to become situated with how well he filled you.

Brushing his jet black hair away from his eyes, you felt pretty confident that you were the only thing in the world to Sunghoon at that moment.

Nothing could've properly prepared you for the first few movements, the drag of his cock against your walls made you gasp. His piercings added just enough friction for you to notice the difference. Sunghoon didn't seem to be in much better shape given his ironclad grip on you.

It didn't take long for you to start feeling greedy, bouncing up and down progressively quicker. Everything was just too good. The stretch of your walls, the borderline soft cries from the man under you. Yet you had an idea… one you intended to act on.

“Hoonie,” You purred with an almost teasing tone and tapped your neck. “Want to bite me, hm? Before you ask, I'm sure.”

Sunghoon looked at you as if you'd lost your mind entirely. After making you confirm once again he eagerly accepted your offer. He pulled you closer to him, pressed against his chest. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, Sunghoon left small kitten licks on the skin above your artery.

With little warning, his pointed fangs pierced your skin once more. This time the sensation was much more intense, causing you to clench harshly around Sunghoon’s cock which elicited a sharp whine from him. Like anticipated, the stinging pain was swiftly replaced with burning heat. Your mind grew hazy with warm waves of pleasure which Sunghoon would later explain to be an effect of his saliva.

“Damnit, Hoon… S-Shit that feels good.”

Sunghoon could only muster up a pathetic sob in response, too overwhelmed by the pleasure. You felt whatever blood he didn't manage to lap up trail down your neck and through every curve of your chest. Every day you spent with Sunghoon seemed to be a day of discovery for you, tonight was certainly no different.

Upon clearing the fog over your conscience enough to think straight, your hand snaked into Sunghoon’s hair, granting silent permission for him to keep drinking. You made sure he was alright before taking a deep breath and lifting your hips up. Sunghoon's whole body jolted when you dropped down, unexpected only to him as he had been so preoccupied with your neck.

“Just relax, dear, I've got you. Promise. Ok?”

Sunghoon let the tension drop from his shoulders at your words. As new as this whole submissive deal was to him, he felt inclined to trust you and lessen his control. Each bounce on his cock melted his mind so deliciously. You sensed he likely couldn't last much longer, which you knew in part was entirely your fault for teasing him so much, though you didn't find it to be an issue. You were as desperate as he was in truth.

Rather quickly, calculated moves devolved into the both of you moaning against one another. The times where his hips happened to snap up to near yours at just the right moment were easily becoming your favorite. Sunghoon pulled himself away just enough to meet your eyes, his own brimming with overwhelmed tears.

“C-Can I cum this time? Please?”

You cocked your head to the side expectantly.

“Please… ma’am? I think I've been so good, I’ll-”

You cut off his sentence with a kiss. Something about the sheer desperation laced throughout his voice was enough to bring you to your edge, you thought it would be fun to deny him again… but you had more days to come. For now, you didn't want to hold it anymore.

“Yes, Hoonie, you may. Good boy.”

At that, Sunghoon pulled you in tightly, slamming the whole length of his cock as deep inside of you as anatomically possible. Like music, his choked moans and sobs fell graciously upon your ears. Sunghoon’s cum filled you in quick gushes and whatever couldn't fit leaked down his shaft.

Freeing one of your hands, you reached down to rub your clit in tight circles, sending you over to your climax. Sunghoon was able to pull himself together enough to assist you in riding it out and in turn shoving his cum deeper inside of you. You were confident this was the most intense feeling you'd ever experienced by far, and you saw yourself getting addicted to it… not that you minded an excuse to fuck a man this unbelievably fine.

Well over a few moments were spent in total silence besides the heavy breathing and lingering whimpers from your exhausted frames.

“Come on,” you pulled off Sunghoon as much as you hated losing the full feeling of being full of him. “Gotta pee. You too.”

You crawled off the bed and started for the restroom before noticing a distinct lack of footsteps behind you. Sunghoon was sat on the edge of the bed, messing with his nails absentmindedly.

“Sunghoon? You ok?”

“Just… happy, I think. I'm not used to- nevermind.”

You decided you weren't going to pry, urging him to his feet. Once he was in front of you, you softly squished his cheeks together before simply holding his face and smiling. Despite everything you had just done with him and how he was still bloody, sweaty, and fully naked you could only think about how strikingly soft and kind his smile was. The way his eyes crinkled shut and fangs peeked out made your heart swell, especially in this moment.

Sunghoon bent down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“Alright, let's go get washed up.”

It seemed to you that Sunghoon couldn't keep his eyes off of you. When you wiped each others faces clean with warm cloths, got in cozy pajamas, and clamored back in to bed after removing the soiled sheets, he was only watching you. It was a feeling that he couldn't quite place, but he felt like he could watch you this way forever.

Sunghoon wrapped his body around yours, enjoying the warmth of your back against his chest. When your hand found his, interlocking your fingers, he almost felt like he could faint.

“Thank you.”

Behind his spent tone was a tenderness you had never picked up in the time you've known him.

“For what, Hoon?”

“Indulging me, I guess.” He giggled. “For welcoming me into your home all this time and hopefully seeing me for more than my astonishingly good looks.”

You chose to ignore the self-glaze for now. The moment was too precious to consider messing with him now. The room and bedsheets too cozy.

“You don't have to thank me. I think I should be thanking you for helping me navigate through life in an entirely new town. Keeping me company.”

“I…”

“You don't have to say anything more, Sunghoon.”

“I'd be content to lay here like this with you for the rest of time. However long that may be.”

#[jo fucks enha 🍷]#park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #vampire au #enhypen smut #enha smut #i love u vampire hoon #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader

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monzabee · 1 year ago

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a not so meet cute – cl16

paper rings, prologue(?)

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles meets his neighbour, who quickly captures his attention.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none other than charles being charles, also might have some cursing, google translate french

Request: “Hii if you’re taking requests could you please write a fic for Charles where he’s your best friend and he asks you to fake date him because he think he likes another girl so he wants to make her notice him/make her jealous kind of thing and you agree even though you love him and during the fake dating he realises that he loves you too and yeah angst fluff and all but a happy ending .If you decide to write this tysm and incase you don’t feel like writing this that’s cool too thanks either way ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! although i am still working on the first chapter of this new series, i wanted to write a little something for you guys to introduce you to the world i had in mind! i know it was not on the wip schedule, but the inspiration struck so i decided to go with it. ever since i saw the wedding pictures of margaret qualley and jack antonoff, the only thing i've been thinking of was the song, and i though it was the perfect song for the characters i had in mind. so, welcome to the new series, inspired by the request above, so thank you for the anon who put the idea in my mind to create this whole series, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

August, 2017

He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble"

Charles loves his country, he really does. He’s always been patriotic of some sorts, he supposes. But the one thing he absolutely loathes about Monaco? The heat, no questions asked. The worst part isn’t even the heat itself, per se, it is the fact that his apartment has no elevator and he has to walk up five stories just to make it to his apartment – in the heat. So yeah, even though he is as patriotic of a Monégasque as they come, he definitely wishes he was somewhere else at the moment. When he does make to his floor, however, he’s met with a rather peculiar view, where his new neighbour is yelling at someone on the phone.

“No, I said I wanted the granite counters,” the person specify, fingers clutching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No!” The man straight up yells, “Ceux en granit, connard, pas ceux en graphite. I don’t think they even come in graphite!”

Deciding to remain silent as he makes his way towards his own apartment, Charles ignores the man standing in front of the apartment opposite of his. Though, he realises that the apartment’s door is open and there is construction going on inside, which explains the drilling sounds he’s been hearing early in the morning and the smell of fresh paint that never seems to leave the shared floor.

Side-eyeing the whole ordeal, he manages to make it to his apartment without attracting the attention of the man – or so he thinks. Just as he’s about to unlock his front door, he feels a pat on his shoulder. As he turns towards the man, there is a curious look on his face, “Hi?”

“Hello,” the man greets, “do you know how i can contact the superintendent?”

For reasons unknown (extreme hangover), Charles’ brain decides to blank out, “Quoi?”

“Le commissaire,” the man clarifies, “savez-vous comment je peux les contacter?” And Charles realises he would have been impressed with the man’s accent if he wasn’t so hangover from the night before. The superintendent, do you know how I can contact them?

“Ah,” Charles nods in understanding, “sure, let me give you his number.”

After the man saves the number he gives to his phone, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting. “I owe you one, I’m Declan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Charles,” he responds with, what he hopes to be, a friendly smile. Motioning the apartment behind them, he asks, “Are you my new neighbour?”

“Oh, no, no,” Declan laughs, and it’s a warm, almost infectious laugh. It reminds Charles of– well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Declan’s voice draws him back to the conversation, “My sister is, I’m renovating it for her.”

Charles nods in understanding, “Ah, I see. I’ve never seen her around, I don’t think.”

“Well that’d be because she’s as annoying as little sisters come,” Declan laughs again, and this time it manages to get a smile out of Charles. “You know what? We’re actually having a small party at my place tonight, why don’t you come?”

“You’ve just met me,” Charles points out, voicing his confusion, “you really want to invite me to your house?”

“Pish posh,” Declan waves him off, already starting to walk back to his sister’s apartment “I’ll send you the details, bring alcohol!”

Charles tries to come up with excuses to give Declan when he’s a no show at the party, but all the excused he come up with sounding either shitty, entitled or just a mess in general. So he convinces himself to get ready after a much needed shower, and remembers to pick up a bottle of tequila on his way to the address Declan texted him earlier that day. Considering the amount of cars parked in front of the apartment complex, Charles thinks whether it’s going to be a ‘small’ party as Declan put earlier, but he manages to find a place to park his car, nonetheless. Surprisingly, it’s not hard to find which apartment belongs to his new ‘friend’, as the people he seems to keep literally bumping into give him directions which lead him to the top floor – he thinks, like brother like sister, huh?

“Ah, bienvenu, Charles!” Declan greets him as he enters the apartment, filled with more people than he honestly expected; but hey, they are in Monte Carlo after all.

Because he was raised by his mother, Charles replies, “Merci de me recevoir,” but because he is Charles, he finds himself reverting easily to French. Of course, he soon realises that his new friend has no trouble understanding him.

“Of course, ma maison est ta maison.” With a wide smile that reaches his eyes, he takes the bottle Charles offer him and pats his shoulder in a friendly manner, “Good lad, let me put this in the kitchen and we’ll find my sister together. I suppose she’s here somewhere.”

Giving him a firm nod, Charles is suddenly left alone to gaze around the living area. He quickly realises that he’s not the only one who is particularly patriotic as he comes face to face with the Union Jack on the wall, proudly displayed on the wall, seems to tell a story of cultural connections and a home away from home. He’s also, somehow, met with a very eccentric group of people, who seem to be insistent on having him join their various conversation – which he does his best to partake in.

As he chats with a group of fellow partygoers, he notices Declan making his way through the crowd toward him. “Charles,” he says with an apologetic smile, “sorry for that, let’s go.”

As they move through the apartment, Charles catches glimpses of the décor, which can only be described as eclectic, but what he realises that Declan made sure to fill up his walls with all kinds of memories; from photographs of what Charles thinks is his family to his diplomas, to even famous artwork – he’s not sure whether the Warhol he just passed by is real or not, but he supposes it’s probably the first option. They arrive at a corner of the rooftop terrace where a cozy seating area is arranged. A few guests are engaged in animated discussions, while others lounge comfortably, enjoying the ambiance. However, it doesn’t take either him or Declan to realise that his sister is, in fact, not with the group.

Though, it doesn’t take the latter to spot his sister, mumbling with a wince under his breath, and when Charles follows Declan's gaze to find her engaged in a rather animated discussion with a man who looks both frustrated and slightly bewildered by her. “Poor guy.”

“Seems like she's keeping him entertained.” Charles offer, careful with his words, and also quite confused at the man’s reactions to whatever Declan’s sister seems to be saying.

“Eh, sisters.” Declan shrugs, and motions Charles to follow him.

As they approach their corner of the terrace, her voice becomes clearer, and Charles can overhear snippets of the conversation. “I just don’t understand why we can’t print more money,” she says in an airy voice.

The man she's speaking to rubs his temples, clearly grappling with how to respond. “Well, it's not that simple. Printing more money can lead to inflation and devalue the currency.” He takes a moment to think, then, “Think of it like shoes–”

“Okay,” Declan laughs nervously as he places himself between the two, turning to the other man with a kind smile, “I think we’re done here, mate, she’s playing you. She’s an econ major, sorry for that.” Though Charles can’t see the expression on her face, he imagines there’s some sort of a victorious smile as she waves the man away, “Stop emasculating my friends, please.”

“Well choose better friends, and I won’t,” she shrugs, following his brother’s movements as he makes his way back near Charles, she turns towards him as the white dress she’s wearing sways gently in the evening breeze. There’s a surprised look on her face when she realises and they are not alone, “Um, hi.”

With a playful grin, Declan points to Charles and turns to his sister, “This is Charles, your new neighbour, and Charles, this is my sister–”

Bambi.

It’s the only word that comes to Charles’ mind when he sees your eyes and a friendly smile you give to him, “Nice to meet you, Charles.”

His eyes fall down to your extended hand, and he scrambles to regain his composure, taking your hand and shaking it gently. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you too.”

With an unexpected clap from your brother, which has both you and Charles jumping slightly, you turn to him with a glare, “Well, now that you know each other, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. And you,” he points to you which elicits a raised eyebrow from you, “don’t scare him off, and for God’s sake change this music.”

“What’s wrong with ABBA?” You ask with a small pout already forming on your lips.

“We need a change,” Charles watches with a silent chuckle as Declan starts walking back towards the kitchen, “ergo, change it!”

“Well that was an interesting exit,” you mumble, eyes following your brother until he’s out of both your and Charles’ views. Afterwards, you turn your attention back to the man standing in front of you, “What do you think about The Smiths?”

“Who?” Charles asks you, confusion written on his face.

“Not The Who,” you nudge him slightly, chuckling softly, though your laughter dies down once you realise he’s really confused. “I– The Smiths, Charles! To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” you softly sing, but he replies with a small shake of his head, and a shrug. “Oh, I love The Smiths! Come on, you have a lot to learn.”

As you grab him by his wrist to guide him back inside the apartment, I might be in trouble, he thinks to himself. And then, you turn around to give him a full smile, with a glint of mischief in your eyes that he can't quite interpret, and say, “I can already feel that we are going to be very good friends.”

And then he knows, he’s definitely in trouble.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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ssivinee · 29 days ago

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❥ 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎

ITZY! Racer! Shin Ryujin x F reader x tripleS! Racer! Park Sohyun: After the awkward encounter, you try to avoid the two women, but to your luck, it fails while you're out with your best friend. This seems to work more in your favor, helping your heart get to the finish line.

Word Count: 7.1 k

Author's Note: This is part two of Racing Hearts! I suggest you read part 1 for more background. YOU GUYS HAVE ALSO SPOKEN AND CHOSEN WHO TO END UP WITH, SO KEEP THAT IN MIND😭! ⚠️excessive language is used here⚠️

➳ Character Concept - Jeon Y/n

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 2

It was a Saturday morning, which meant short work hours at your brother's mechanic shop. You were currently working on a 2005 Honda Civic for an elderly man who brought it in early in the morning.

Since the last time you saw Ryujin and Sohyun, you practically buried yourself in work, doing your best to avoid any interaction with them.

The race was three weeks ago, and that tension… just had you feeling super anxious about it all. You didn’t want to become the wedge between the two girls, but you couldn’t help but perceive it that way. They basically had a standoff before you left, so of course, it felt heavy to you.

“You’ve been staring at the engine for, like, fifteen minutes, Y/n,” your older brother said as he looked at his watch. “How bout’ you don’t time me and focus on that paperwork?” You ask playfully, but your brother wasn’t having any of it at the moment. “Y/n,” you hear Wonwoo’s stern voice call out, and you sigh, shoulders lowering in defeat.

“Yes?” You turn around, trying to show the most innocent face possible, which had him rolling his eyes hard. “What’s up with you? Since that day, you’ve been staying at the shop late, spacing out, and not even taking time for yourself?”

You were just at a loss for words, sitting in the chair before him. “I- I don’t even know, myself.”

“Did you enjoy the race with Cheuksin?” He asked with a worried expression on his face. You furiously shake your hands, “I enjoyed it! That just… isn’t the problem.” Wonwoo’s face softened at hearing you sound tired. “So what is it then?” “I really liked racing with them. It felt new and fresh. I just felt so free again,” as you spoke, a cheesy grin formed on your face, causing your brother to be even more curious as to what was puzzling your mind. “It’s Sohyun and Ryujin.”

You tried ending it there, but as you lifted up your head to find your brother's face, it clearly said, ‘Well, elaborate,’ despite no words coming out of his mouth. You sigh again, “When I won the race, the two just felt like… they were declaring they’d fight for me? I don’t even know at this point. I just wouldn’t want to break a friendship, you know?”

“You can’t exactly help how you feel, Y/n. You're only human too. Besides, if their bond is great, your choice wouldn’t get in the way of that,” he explains, trying to be a good older brother and your voice of reason. Yet, hearing that only stressed you out even more. You lift your hands abruptly in defeat as they fall straight down to your sides, “That’s the thing! I don’t know who to choose. I literally met them a month ago, oppa. Also, adding onto the fact that I broke up with Shuhua on the same night we met.”

Now that Wonwoo was seeing the stress on your face, he never liked seeing you like that. It was always a rare occurrence, and when it did happen, Wonwoo always did his best to cheer you up.

You are his little sister and practically his only family left. When both your parents basically left, he swore he’d protect you, even with love problems like this.

“How bout’ this? You take a day off tomorrow and on Monday. Then, you can hang out with Isa, go shopping, race, and go out of town. Literally anything other than work right now,” you look at him like he’s crazy at the suggestion. “But you’ll be alone, and the store is gonna be bu-”

“You know I’m not taking no for an answer, so,” he shrugs, walking away from you to return to his office. You groan and admit defeat as you head back to working on your car, mumbling, “Yeah, I know.”

Since Wonwoo was doing his best not to hear you argue with him, he let you finish up your work for the rest of the day. As hours passed, it was nighttime, and to avoid you staying longer, Wonwoo turned off the garage lights and locked the door that kept the light switches.

“REALLY?!” You yell as he waves, walking out the door. “Get your stuff and lock up! Thanks!” His grin made you want to slap his face, but you knew your brother had good intentions. So, without wasting another thought in the dark space, you went to your locker, got your belongings out, turned off the lights, locked the store, and drove home.

The ten-minute car ride was quick, as it was late and fewer vehicles were on the road. Once you entered your humble abode, you changed into your slippers and walked sluggishly to your room. As you entered your safe space, you dropped your bag onto the floor and fell onto your bed, not wanting to think about anything anymore.

Your brother gave you a day off, and you didn’t know what to do with it at this point.

You just decided to take a brisk hot shower and lay in bed afterward, scrolling through your phone. As you looked through your social media, you saw Sohyun had posted a new photo. Seeing no harm in it, you decided to look, not knowing what to expect.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw.

When looking at Sohyun’s feed, it was quite calm, with aspects of her daily life shown. So the selfie of her in a short strapless bodycon dress at a party with her hair tousled out of place was not something you were expecting.

She looked like she was dancing in the picture, a red solo cup in one hand. Her lips in a smirk, and her eyes were squinting, looking as if they were seducing you into a trap. Added with the effect of purple and blue party lights raining down on her head, she had you almost drooling instantly.

Your eyes travel down to the caption, ‘At a party with so many people, but only looking for you.’

That just caused you to turn your phone off and slam it down on the bed. You could just grip your hair with how crazy reading that made you feel. The photo put your brain in a frenzy, so you just had to put yourself in a harder position, huh? You wanted to hit yourself, but try to think of a different way to spend your days off instead to keep your mind off it.

You could do anything, but it was like your brain was on low-power mode.

It was as if on time, a notification pinged your phone, and when you looked, it was Isa asking if you were free to go shopping with her tomorrow. You mentally praised her and responded with what your brain cells could handle at the moment.

YES, you’re a literal lifesaver right now, Isa.

It was the next day, and you and Isa were already out at the shopping plaza two bags each in hand. “Lord, I legit needed this day off today,” Isa tells you, extremely happy with the free time she was given after so many days of work at the cafe. “You literally own the cafe. Can’t you get a day off whenever you want?”

She shrugs at you with a smile, “That’s not my kind of business owner ethic.” Still walking, the plaza was buzzing with many adults, likely due to it being a weekday. “So~”

“Oh, please don’t,” you say, already expecting the topic that’s about to come up. “What? Are you not feeling the two?” She asked, her face looking like a clueless puppy. “No. I am feeling the two, and that’s the issue!”

“Ah, I love a good love triangle,” she giggles, trying to make light of the situation, but she realizes you were serious about it. “Y/n, you just met them. You shouldn’t have to force anything. Just go with the flow!”

“You weren’t there, Isa. It just felt like I added two new problems into my life when I quite literally just finished one,” you say, insinuating your first problem being Shuhua. “Girl, seriously, try not to stress. Whatever happens, happens. You like who you like, and you love who you love. You know, the whole shebang.”

You laugh, “I just don’t want to be in a position where I have to pick from the two, but I just seem to be heading down that path right now.”

“Well, just have some fun with it. Hang out with both, get to know them more, and find who you want. No need to pressure yourself in choosing and finding love when you don’t have a definite answer.”

That was probably one of the most genuine pieces of advice that Isa gave in a long time, making you go into thought. “Maybe… That actually sounds like a good idea.”

The words slip out of your mouth. You guys go to a stall selling bubble tea and wait in line. As if you manifested it out of your conversation, from the corner of your eyes, you see Sohyun walking with a couple of friends. She wore her glasses, some washed mom jeans, and a hoody, making her quite comfy.

While walking, Sohyun feels the eyes on her. She looks around and finds you in the line of people, a smile forming on her face. “Guys, I’ll catch up in a little,” she tells her friends and walks over to you and Isa.

You tried looking at Isa as if you didn’t see the younger girl in the first place, hoping that would save your ass… at least you tried. As Isa stared at you confusingly, your best friend looked behind you, and she saw someone a tad bit taller towering over you. Once she realizes who it is, she stares at you with wide eyes, and your eyes practically signal, ‘SOS, I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO!’

" Y/n-unnie?” You heard her voice, and Isa signaled you with her hands to go on, trying to save you from any embarrassment. You coughed, spinning around: “Sohyun! What a coincidence seeing you here.” The tone of your voice evidently confused the young a bit; it was as if you were talking to your pet about how good they were.

One brow was raised, and slight amusement hinted in her face. “Uh yeah, I was just hanging out with some university friends today, and then I got a race later.” You tried to act as if you were interested. Which you were, but all you wanted to do was run away as fast as possible.

“That’s cool. I have the day off, so-”

Shit.

“A day off?” As soon as that sentence slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it. Yeah~, my brother told me I’ve been working a lot, so,” you awkwardly giggle, which makes Isa nudge you a bit. You look at her, and she shakes her head, mouthing, ' Stop embarrassing yourself in front of a hottie.’

Sohyun finally noticed you were with a friend. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you guys,” she said, “and Isa got startled at the respectable gesture. Don’t worry, you weren’t.”

You look at the two, and Isa gives you crazy eyes for involving her in this mortifying interaction. “Ah, Sohyun-ah, this is Isa, my childhood best friend,” the younger girl's eyebrows raised at the fact, shaking her hand. “I’m Sohyun.”

“Oh, I know,” Isa says, making Sohyun look at you as you just slapped your forehead with quite the force.

“It’s been quite some time since we hung out. Maybe… you wanna come to the race tonight? You can just watch, too, if you prefer that,” she asks, and you look at Isa, not knowing how to answer. The younger notices the hesitance and clarifies, “You can bring Isa too if you’d like.”

You look at her in surprise, slowly nodding in agreement. “That can work.”

Sohyun’s smile grows excited as she does a tiny dace, “Great! I’ll send you the details, unnie!” She then looks at her phone, her friends pinging her every second they could. “I do have to go. My friends are looking for me, but I’ll see you guys there?” You and Isa nod, still unsure about the idea, as Isa looks more enthusiastic.

“You just like how painful this is for me,” the two of you inched up in the line, two spots away from the counter. “Oh, most definitely,” your best friend says with an evil grin as you pout at her, finding this entertaining.

As the two of you reach the front of the line, you order your prepared drinks quickly. You then begin walking in the opposite direction of Sohyun and her friends. Your phone receives a notification while sipping your milk tea and thinking of the race.

You see that it’s Sohyun sending you a direct message on Instagram, but when you read it, it feels like your heart drops. ‘Here are the details of the race later tn. I’m sure all of Cheuksin will be happy to see you. Ryujin unnie and I missed you a lot, so :3.’

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” You just mumble and get louder and louder. This had Isa looking around before looking back at you, “Okay, relax before someone thinks you actually needa shit, please.”

“Dude, it totally went over my head that Ryujin is going to be at the race. " As you struggled to process the forgotten information, Isa gave you a deadpanned face. “Ryujin… is literally, like… the leader of her group. You just forgot all that or~?”

“Well, Sherlock, I clearly did,” you roll your eyes at Isa, who giggles. “Stop finding this funny~.”

“I can’t help it,” she says, laughing harder while admitting it.

You and Isa arrived thirty minutes late at the race in your car. Isa suggested that more people be around so it wouldn’t feel awkward. Yet your heart couldn’t stop racing because it likely wouldn’t matter. As your car rolled in, many Cheuksin members remembered the vehicle, giving subtle waves in its direction.

“Well, aren’t you miss popular in these streets,” Isa says, genuinely impressed at everyone waving. You roll your eyes but chuckle, “Maybe I left a good impression.”

“Yeah. After you didn’t show up for three weeks,” Isa cracks at her own joke, and you slap her shoulder, making her give you a fake offensive stare. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The both of you exit your car and stand on the sidewalk, just wanting to be on the sidelines and out of anyone’s vision. You knew someone would tell the two girls about your arrival, but you were delaying the inevitable.

“It’s been so long~,” Isa practically wines, and you smile. When she lived near Incheon as a child, the two of you religiously hung out. So, realistically, she was there for your early days in racing. Isa had seen the triumphs, the disasters, the breakdowns, and everything under the sun at these events and she always loved them. “You always ate up all the drama at these things.”

You laugh, but she makes another joke, “Yeah, but now you're a part of the drama.” That had your face switched up so fast, causing Isa to laugh even harder. “Dude, this just can’t be happening to me right now,” you groan.

“Hey, stranger,” you hear a soft voice to your close left, causing you to whip your head in that direction to find Sohyun with a goofy smile on her face. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“I mean, we were free, so we said, why not,” you tried playing it cool, not wanting to hurt her feelings by being ‘mean.’ “Oh, long time no see,” you heard that deep voice coming from in front of you and it made you nervous.

You see Ryujin walking forward, her strides ever so authoritative. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” she expresses as her head tilts in curiosity. “Cause I invited her,” the younger butted in, and the both of you gave her a side eye, one more hostile looking than the other. “Word spread fast, so I had to see if it was real.”

“Definitely real,” Isa mumbles, but it catches Ryujin’s attention. She glances between the two of you, a bit confused. “And this is?”

“Uhm, Isa. My best friend,” you tell her as you feel your heart racing and your palms getting a bit sweaty. “Childhood best friend,” Isa emphasizes, making the leader chuckle. “Had to establish the title there, huh?” Isa nods in a joking manner, and her hand points at Ryujin.

“Are you gonna stay until my race at the end?”

The question was so innocent, but it felt that it was entailing something more. Your nervousness wasn’t so noticeable, but as an observant one, Sohyun felt the vibes shift once Ryujin walked over. While watching the two of you, the younger didn’t want to accept that her mentor had this kind of effect on you.

The effect that had a person weak to the knees, or as if they were holding their breath. It made Sohyun feel unworthy of your attention, especially since you felt more nonchalant at the shopping plaza earlier in the day.

She decided to butt in, trying to still catch your attention. “Y/n unnie, can you cheer for me?” You were taken aback by the request, looking back at Ryujin, but gave in, “Of course, Hyun.”

You just saying her nickname made her heart skip a beat. Only people close to her used the name, and the two of you didn’t interact much, but it just did something to her. She may have felt like she was overreacting, but these are the kind of small gestures she was looking for from you.

Ryujin notices her protege’s attempts, trying not to glare at the girl. There was no reason to be territorial over you. It felt far too soon for that.

But Ryujin was a woman who knew what she wanted, and she wanted you. She was willing to make that happen, even if it meant of getting in Sohyun’s way.

As a leader, Ryujin was rarely ever mean, aggressive, or power hungry. In fact she was alway nice, sweet, and heroic for a lot of Cheuksin’s member. Yet in her heart, she knew, that it was okay to be selfish once in a while, especially if it was the sake of her love life.

“Make sure you stay till the end, okay?” Ryujin asks, softening her tone. You look at her, perplexed as to why she sounded a bit desperate there, “why?”

“I wanna have a pretty trophy for tonight,” she says, walking away backward with a smirk. She wasn’t telling you nor saying the trophy was you, but you knew exactly what she was implying without saying it. You were speechless at the smooth comment, your stomach filling with butterflies instantly. Isa slaps your arm as she squeals, “that was so hot,” she whispers in your ear.

You hear a slight cough, remembering Sohyun was still beside you. The girl didn’t want to make it obvious but was irritated. She invited you here, so she should be getting this attention.

She would admit she isn’t one to have so much charisma. Sohyun may have been popular, but she was a nerd, shy, and a bit awkward at times. The only way she could probably compete with Ryujin in that aspect was with her driving… and some liquid courage, which was obviously impossible for tonight.

“I don’t blame her,” Sohyun admits to you, and now you are back in confusion. “I’d wanna win a prize as good as you,” she smiles. Now, this was cute, and it made your heart wanna burst as she walked back to her car.

“They’re basically having a rizz battle over you, girl.” Isa laughs at your disgusted face, “Never say that shit ever again, please,” you giggle as she throws her hands up. In your friendship, she had always been the comedian, which was a relief ninety percent of the time, so you weren’t always stressed out.

After a few minutes, an announcement blares from a mega phone, stating the next race with the racers, which included Sohyun. This wasn’t a Cheuksin exclusive event so you were surprised to hear the infamous Yeonjun being there against her again.

“Oh dear,” you mumbled and Isa looks into the street, seeing his fiery red hair in his car. “As in like… Djinn, Yeonjun?” You reluctantly nod at the question. “Then oh dear, indeed.”

As you watch, Sohyun sat in her car, eyes shut as she did her best to calm her nerves. She kept telling herself that she’s beaten him once, but knowing in the back of her mind, you were watching made her heart race. Since seeing you race, Sohyun wanted to do something that could impress and amazing racer like you.

That meant if she had to get reckless in this race… she would.

When the flag girl’s voice was loud and clear on go, Sohyun and Yeonjun could be seen neck and neck right out the gates.

The vice captain of Djinn thought he would take his revenge, so despite the rest of the crew not being there, he was gonna do anything to win. Little did he know that the newbie was feeling the exact same way.

The dron flew around, following the race with its camera and everyone pulls out their phones. The track was insanely harder than the last, their were many sharp turns, a straight line to the freeway, and it was going into many busy streets with many cars.

The four cars hit the first sharp turn, Sohyun taking a smaller drift to stay in front. Yeonjun wouldn’t let her off easy though, as he smoothly follows, almost rearing her car. “I’m gonna win this shit today,” Yeonjun tells himself, the aggressiveness begging to simmer. Everyone dislikes losing, but Yeonjun was one that hated feeling like a sore loser in anything, which was quite obvious with his dirty tactics.

Another sharp turn followed, the street leading up to the free way. Sohyun saw a car double parked in front of her and the smartest thing would be to remove herself from the lane instantly, but when she looks in her rearview mirror, she sees Yeonjun’s vicious smirk basically toying with her.

That made the next decision easy.

Sohyun would clutch her gear shift, moving it down to speed up the vehicle with the car in the way. You watched, eyes widening trying to run over to Ryujin as Isa followed. “What the fuck is she thinking?” You asked the leader, eyes glued to the phone. That decision could end ugly and you wouldn’t want to think of any racer getting hurt.

“I’m not sure,” Ryujin mumbles, slightly worried at the odd choice. Was she doing this to impress you? That thought made Ryujin furious. She was aware that her and Sohyun liked you, but putting her life in danger? That was a line that Ryujin wasn’t willing to cross over a race like this.

“She better move that clutch and get out the way now!” As if Sohyun heard you from miles away, she swerved out the way. Behind her, Yeonjun’s eyes go wide at the move, and seeing the car in front of him, he doesn’t have enough time to process, swerving out of the way and into the side walk.

“Crazy bitch!” Yeonjun slams his fist on the steering wheel, and does his best to compose himself as he backed up. Yet the other two cars passing him surely didn’t help his anger. “What the actual fuck was that?” Isa asks, concern in her tone. All the years she had watched you and your brother race, she had never seen someone do such a risky move like that.

She basically had the intent to hurt Yeonjun, which didn’t sit well with you or your best friend. Sohyun on the other hand kept driving, not knowing if she was actually mentally ill or proud of what she had done. As she gets on the freeway, Sohyun successfully weaves through every car.

The young girl was getting confident until she heard cars honking behind her from afar. Sohyun peaks at her right side mirror seeing a raging Yeonjun who was overtaking cars fast, close to making several accidents happen. “What is going on in this race?” You help your forehead, shaking it in disappointment. Ryujin takes a glimpse at you, and when looking back to her phone, she didn’t know what to think. “Your playing a dumb game here, Hyun,” she mumbles.

Sohyun drives past the last car, turning as fast as she can into the race treacks exit. As she reaches the busy streets, she does her best to avoid people and the cars but it seemed that her situation wasn’t stopping Yeonjun from going crazy. In a fit of rage, he started bumping into parked cars, the paint of his car were getting chipped, and little dents could be found all around.

“Yeonjun looks like he's about to go on a rampage…” Isa tells both you and Ryujin, the both of you looking extremely worried. He was gaining speed quick, almost as if her wanted to ram her car so bad. Sohyun was beginning to sweat bullets, until she takes a quick turn, taking a slight short cut which causes Yeonjun to crash a little harder that before. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” At this rate he couldn’t catch up, and the younger sighs in relief.

She comes across the finish line, the two of the races far behind due to the scene and you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. This wasn’t the kind of racing you liked, and as much as you knew of Sohyun’s potential, you’d never want her to race like that ever again.

Sohyun runs over to you, Ryujin, and Isa with a large grin on her face, seemingly proud of her efforts. “How’d I do?” “Well, you won,” Ryujin states the obvious, not knowing whether she should approve of her in the moment, or be disappointed at her letting her emotions run wild. Sohyun’s eyes look at you all puppy like but you can’t help but look at her with such dismay.

Although, you understood emotions getting the nest of you, especially as a new racer so you didn’t want to go too hard on her. You sigh but give a tight lipped smile, “You did good, but please try not to race like that ever again.” The tone of your voice made Sohyun a bit sad but she can only nod, understanding that it was mainly out of concern. Seeing this, Ryujin smiles but then remembers Yeonjun.

“You may have dealt with him today, but Yeonjun will likely have a big target on your back… possibly all of Djinn as well.”

“Well, I guess I’ve officially made them an enemy,” Sohyun whines but you outright laugh. “You don’t even have to worry about that. Djinn has been trying to get at Cheuksin for years, and I mean many years. They won’t be a threat to you guys. Well, that’s not to say Yeonjun won’t be a threat to you, but you have trustworthy members by your side,” you point over at the majority of the crew, her best friends Jay and Jake giving a small wave and some enthusiastic thumbs up which has Sohyun and Ryujin chuckle.

“Well, I guess I’m up,” Ryujin tells all of you, waving off to her car as she gets ready. You then began to think of a big possibility, “Shuhua won’t be here, will she?”

Those words had Isa thinking of the worst. Sohyun shakes her head furiously. “You don’t have to worry. Shuhua seems to have slown down on racing since the Turf Races.”

Isa jokes, “Don’t tell me she’s heartbroken or something?” You laugh at the joke as well, but Sohyun makes this weird face basically saying, ‘kinda?’

“You can’t be serious now…” You looked reluctant to believe it but Sohyun shrugs. “You must’ve done a number on her. Apparently her last race was two weeks ago in Incheon and she lost. Seems to be on a losing streak as well.”

Isa looks at you, quite impressed with your usual, ‘heartbreaking powers’ as she likes to call them. You begin to hear engines reaving, seeing Ryujin’s car at the starting point. From what the drone showed, it seemed like the race track would be quite different. The four cars would be going through the same sharp turns but they’ll stay on the freeway longer, reaching a long tunnel that many vehicles don’t usually take, then they circle around, taking a more curved path while coming back.

You weren’t even paying attention and as the race began, you were so pleased to watch Ryujin drive so effortlessly. It’s so evident in how smoothly she drives her Shelby, no surprising moves, no insane tricks, and it just felt relaxing to watch. Not heart pumping, but still exciting. It was the traditional racing Wonwoo surrounded you with growing up.

It felt like comfort. Felt like home, actually.

You smiled at the way she maneuvered, it looked like watching pure perfection. The close calls didn’t feel like that what’s so ever, just the tire marks looking like perfect curves, and how effortlessly she would speed up when needed.

As the group traveled into the tunnel, the drone flew lower giving everyone who watched a closer view. It zoomed in front of Ryujin who had the relaxed expression on her face, the evident deep breaths she took made her feel comfortable in each spot.

You watched as she made use of her large space, increasing the gap she had with the three cars. They did a fast loop around in a busier road, she would smoothly move out of the way, just her heart at ease. While driving, Ryujin could feel the adrenaline rising, but she regulated her breathing, trying to keep her head clear.

Which clearly paid off, since she passes the finish line further ahead than the other racers.

Everyone begins to cheer and you clap, clearly impressed by her performance. When Sohyun looked at you and saw the significant difference in your face while watching both races, she couldn’t help but be disappointed with herself.

She had a plan, to show of what she’s capable of, but it just backfired with making Ryujin look like the better person. “So~, how’d I do?” Ryujin asks you as she walks up, her forearms reaching out.

You were almost speechless by what you saw, but just almost. “You did amazing,” you say with a smile, giving her a genuine hug. You haven’t enjoyed that kind of racing since Wonwoo’s last race seven years ago. Just watching it all had your heart swelling out of joy.

Sohyun watched from afar, getting annoyed, and just stormed off while only Ryujin took notice. You and Isa couldn’t even tell especiall with all the ruckus going on in the crowd.

“Wanna stop ignoring me now and come to my our races?” Ryujin quipped in a joking manner but those words shocked you. She noticed despite not knowing you for so long.

“Dude, when I tell you she raced like how you used to. You’d have to see it for yourself oppa!”

It was the day you got back to work, and Wonwoo had been given an earful about the races in the past few hours. “I know, I saw everything,” you look at him confused, “how?”

“I think you forget, these races are live streamed. I was fixing up a motorcycle here while watching,” you were gonna say something, but held back your tongue knowing you did forget. “That Sohyun kid… she did some very questionable things out there,” you heard him say as he worked under a car. You could only sigh, “I know! I tried telling her not to…”

“Do you think-” He pauses, not knowing whether he should say it or not. “Do I think what?”

“Do you think she did those things to show off to you?” You halt from working on the engine in front of you, not liking the way your brain was thinking. “I would hope not.”

“Don’t forget, she’s a young, new racer, Y/n/n. It gets the best of everyone sometimes,” you were aware of that, but it still didn’t sit right with you. “I wouldn’t want anyone risking their own safety for me. She also put another racer at risk,” you grunted, more frustrated than anything.

“I know Yeonjun is a dick, but it doesn’t justify why she did. Two wrongs do not make a right,” you emphasis your last sentence and Wonwoo preaches, “That I will always agree on. Never stoop lower. Ever. Because once you do and get into the habit of it-”

“There’s always a high possibly of you getting hurt in the end,” you say at the same time as him, always remembering your older brothers words when racing. Everything Sohyun did went against your morals. Yeonjun does play dirty, theres no doubt about it, but he also had a reasonable excuse to be angry. He just can’t control his emotions properly.

As you were about to switch to pliers, your phone rings and you see Ryujin’s contact name come up. After her race, she boldy asked for your number saying, “Now I think the only reward I’ll accept today is your number.”

You open up the text reading ‘pls come to Cheuksin’s spot tonight at eight.’ And that was it. You rolled your eyes subconsciously, finding her suspiciousness funny, so you reply ‘sure,’ leaving it at that.

Once 7:30 rolls around, you say bye to your brother, and going home for a brisk shower and change of outfit. You washed up and changed into some more comfortable running sneakers, some black legging, and a cropped off the shoulder knitted sweater.

Driving to the spot took no long than twenty minutes, and you see everyone hanging out under the bridge. As you parked your car and walked over, you find Ryujin standing in the middle. Sohyun, who didn’t look surprise at all to see you, makes eye contact. Her eyes were full of sadness, and she looked down to her knees quickly while sitting on a lawn chair.

“Since you were all free today, I decided to call an emergency meeting,” Ryujin looks around, then sees you and gives a small wave. You smile at the small gesture and she continues, “There are a few things I want to speak about tonight.”

“One, Sohyun and your race,” she looks at Sohyun who still hasnt raised her head, knowing she was about to get told off. “I get it,” the leader starts and Sohyun looks up surprised. “You’re a young racer. Less experience, and we all make dumb decisions. Although that doesn’t mean your let off the hook tonight.”

“No matter what you are feeling in the moment, no matter whose around, none of you should be putting your safety at risk for a race. With that being said, Sohyun is suspended from racing for two weeks. What happened that day isn’t against the racing rules, but we have order here in Cheuksin, but we also care about all of our racers, so please keep that in mind.”

Sohyun knew it, it was going to be her likely punishment anyways but she still couldn’t help but be so angry at herself.

Ryujin continued with all her announcements like more races, some meeting with the ‘alumni’ of Cheuksin, and everything she could fit in that moment. She ends the meeting, but everyone stays, enjoying each others company. Ryujin walks over to you and you proceed to look impressed, “Did you invite me here to show off your leader skill?”

She laughs, “I just thought it would be fun, okay?” You carry on the conversation with her, Ryujin keeping a beautiful smile on your face. As the two of you were enjoying yourselves, you catch Sohyun sitting far away from everyone at the corner of your eye. You feel terribly bad and say, “I’ll be back.” Ryujin sees you walking over to her direction, sighing.

Ryujin wasn’t cocky, but she was sure you liked her more than Sohyun, but it was also clear that you had a big heart.

“Well this isn’t a way to party now,” Sohyun hears your voice and jolts up. “Oh, hey, Y/n,” she sounded so out of it, and you just sit down next to her, letting the silence engulf the both of you. It was a comfortable silence, but in Sohyun’s mind, she seemed to be having an internal warfare until she made up her mind.

“You know I like you, right?” After five minutes of silence, Sohyun admits her feelings. “Wha-”

“I like you,” You look at her surprised, it was obvious but just outright saying it was now what you were expecting out of just sitting next to her. “Your kind, smart, experienced, knowledgeable, pretty, and everything I could want in a woman,” she said, lowering her head once she called you pretty.

You didn’t know what to say, “Sohyun I-”

“Just… listen first, please?” You shut your mouth quickly, letting her pour everything out. “When I first saw you, I thought the the world sent me a goddess when I needed it. Any racer, no, any person out thee would find you perfect. I guess, I’m just glad that I feel seen by you, even if it isn’t much.”

“...but I know you like her,” Sohyun voices, her voice feeling frail at the reality. “Like who?” “I know you like Ryujin, Y/n. It isn’t exactly a secret. We’ve both known you for the same amount of time, but you see Ryujin for all that she is. Her talent, her brains, her demenour, her personality.”

She sighs leaning her head back, trying to not let the tears fall, “You guys are perfect for each other,” she whispered. “Sohyun-” “You should go back to her,” She tells you, wiping her tearful eyes quickly, not wanting to cry in front of you. Before you get up and got cut off again, you just tell her, “You’re a greet person, Hyun, and a great Racer. It’s just a small bump in the road. Remember that?” She nodded, looking away from you.

You walked back over to Ryujin who waited while leaning on her own car. “Good talk?” Your face morphs indifferently, “It was something.” She sees the sad gaze you give Sohyun, and decides to do something nice to put a smile on your face. Ryujin begins pulling your arm over to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, “Come on, let’s go for a drive.”

You stood there, really confused, “Huh? What about my car?” She pushes you in lightly, but you willingly go in yourself, “We’ll come back for it don’t worry.”

She hops into the driver seat, and the ride was in comfortable silence as the empty roads felt serene. Ryujin stops her car at an abandoned lot that was large yet in the middle of nowhere. She signals to exit the vehicle and lays on the hood of her car, you follow, just leaning on it.

“I wanted to get away with you, even if it was just for a moment,” Ryujin tells you, and you look up at the dark sky, seeing specks of stars. “This is beautiful,” she leans up, looking at your face, “it is.” You turn your head, finding her gaze and blush hard whil quickly looking away.

“I hope… you go easy on Hyun. The girl has so much talent and the moment got to her,” you nod, understanding the situation. “I know, I just always hated racing that way. Wonwoo kind of wired me that way,” you chuckle.

Ryujin wanted to say it now, she wanted to say she liked you, before you could slip out of her grasp. But instead of saying her feelings, she randomly goes, “Wanna take my car for a spin?” Your eyes widen. Within racing culture, letting others drive your car was pretty rare because of how much people cared for their vehicles. “But not anyone should be driving racers cars.”

“You aren’t just anyone, Y/n,” those words made your heart jump, the racing feeling happening in your chest instead. She tosses her keys to you, and you catch it with ease. “Come on~” She whines, making you smile and get in from the drivers side. You start of the car, the feeling of the leather steering wheel making you feel comfortable. “Book it,” Ryujin says, and you look at her. She looks straight ahead with a smile, confident in your abilities. “Well, you said so,” you move the clutch and drive at a high speed.

The lot was enormous, making you drift whenever and wherever as Ryujin just smiles at the experience. She had never let anyone drive her Shelby, but she was glad to give the first opportunity to you. She know she was an excellent driving, but being in the car while you took the wheel felt otherworldly. Your hand looked so delicate on the clutch and wheel and every movement you made felt like you culd do this in your sleep.

“God, how can I not like you?” Ryujin says in the spur of the moment, but doesnt regret it as you stop the car super abruptly, the both of you jolting forward ever so slightly. “Okay, ouch. But what did you just say?” She rubs her neck a bit, the slight pain lingering from the whiplash. “I said, how can I not like you?”

…You looked as if you seen a ghost, keeping your mouth shut tight and Ryujin laughs at the reaction. “Come on~, I knew it was obvious, no?”

“I mean, yeah, but hearing it makes it feel real.”

“But it is real. I like you a lot, Y/n,” Ryujin confesses and you feel your shoulders relaxing, her words fully processing in your mind. “I like you a lot too,” You tell her with a smile, and Ryujin just wanted to kiss your beautiful face right then and there, but she wanted to cherish you and take it slow. “How ‘bout we grab a bite?”

“Is this you asking me out?” Ryujin looks offended, shaking her head rapidly. “First off, our first date will definitely be more prepared. I just want to spend the night with you and have the night never end,” her eyes twinkled due to the moonlight and your cheeks flush a bit.

“Then I’d love to.”

#❅ ssivinee's fic #gxg #wlw #kpop gg #kpop x female reader #kpop x reader #kpop girls #itzy ryujin #itzy ryujin x reader #itzy #itzy x reader #itzy x f! reader #itzy x you #triples sohyun #triples park sohyun #triples x reader #triples sohyun x reader #triples sohyun x f reader

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captainjamster · 10 months ago

Text

Price x Reader - Training and Punishment

Pairing(s): John Price x Reader Warnings: NSFW, blowjob, face-fucking, authority imbalance, choking, Y/N is used once, light dom/sub, reader is short and a bit of a brat, also not so subtle ghost/soap if you squint Wordcount: 6.4k Summary: Captain Price is a man that prides himself on his strong sense of justice and sensibility - so he knows that stupid feelings for his inferiors are the last thing he should be having. Yet thoughts of a new Second Lieutenant plague his mind after an off-hand comment, and when he sees the opportunity for an intimate scolding, he quickly finds it incredibly hard to walk the line between his desires and maintaining professionalism. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I've been meaning to post this on Tumblr for a while, but I've been holding onto it so I can post it when I'm struggling to write/upload - aka right now :p

This was the first COD fanfic I ever wrote and uploaded, and I think it's one of my most popular so I'm proud lol

Full fic is under the cut <3

John Price is a good man.

At least, he thinks that he is for the kind of man that the world has made Price to be.

But lately, devilish temptation has been weighing on his shoulders in an unfamiliar way.

"Good morning, Captain."

Your eyes glance over him in a flash that he hopes he doesn’t imagine as you settle in your chair. Price doesn't care for formal seating positions in these meetings, but as you take your seat just two across from his, he can't tell whether he appreciates that decision or not.

The scent of your shampoo and fresh soap tickles his nose and he takes a sharp breath in, lustful images flooding into his mind like they were just waiting for an excuse. But like the hardened, controlled man Price tells himself that he is, he's shaking away the thoughts before they can go any further.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant."

For a second he isn't sure whether you appreciated his reflection of rank in his greeting, but as he sees the corners of your lips quirk, a delighted warmth builds in his stomach. Before he can find anything else to say, Ghost pushes through the doorway, nodding at Price. Price doesn't even have to raise an eyebrow before Ghost speaks gruffly. "Takin' a piss. Said he'd be quick."

The large man seats himself at the opposite side of the round table and to anyone else it would seem like a calculated move to make distance, but as you pour over your morning notes, Price notices how Ghost shifts his foot to push the chair next to him out in expectation.

The files are still warm in his folder as Price opens it, spreading out training schedules, operation plans, tactical maps and other notes to go over. Ghost's absence of a folder is displeasing to Price, but equally unsurprising. As he shifts through the folder and passes two pieces of paper to Ghost, he's grateful that at least Ghost gets his paperwork done, compared to another one of his Lieutenants.

Like that Lieutenant was summoned by Price's thought, Soap can be heard from the corridor before he even enters the room, trailing behind Gaz as he babbles about something. His demeanour is too bright for such an early morning start, but at least he looks much more awake than Gaz, who is nursing a steaming cup of coffee between his hands, strong enough for Price to smell immediately.

"Mornin' Cap'!"

"Captain."

Soap takes the pushed-out seat next to Ghost, and as Gaz follows suit, Price is relieved to see they've managed to bring their folders; despite how he cringes at the torn, dog-eared edges. Ghost hands Soap the second paper as Price slides another to Gaz across the table.

Two other second lieutenants make their way through the door. They move to sit next to you, finding companionship amongst the shared rank, though Price notices one falter as they observe your proximity to him. It was a brazen move to seat yourself so close to the captain. He likes your boldness, respectful but confident. As a couple others filter in and take their seats, Price begins the meeting. It's a standard monthly meeting, something Price has done so many times he doesn't even need to think, but today he feels nervous. It would make him a poor excuse for a captain if he let it slip him up, so he powers through the unrest in his stomach each time his eyes catch yours.

He tries to keep his eyes off you during the meeting, tearing his eyes away each time he glances at you. When you stand to speak, he almost feels relieved to have a reason to look at you while you address the table. Price doesn't know why he finds himself so distracted by you during the meeting, or why he wants there to be something behind the way your eyes linger on him.

When he dismisses the meeting, his shoulders release a tension he didn't know he was holding. Another effect of your presence, he thinks, and this realisation sparks something impulsive within him. He watches as everyone moves to the door, eyeing you lagging behind as you shuffle your notes, a pace behind your companions.

"(Y/N)."

Your name is out of his mouth before he realises it and you pause in your step, turning to look at him. "I..." Price falters, wracking his brain for something. "You spoke well in the meeting." He nods stiffly and manages a smile, kicking himself for speaking in the first place.

"- no way the Lieutenant worked for it; I'm telling you the bitch sucked someone off."

Confusion furrows your brow for a moment, but you look pleased as you smile, nodding back in thanks as you continue out the door. Price sinks back down into his chair, pulling a cigar and lighter from a pocket on his pants and sparking it. Off the field, he tries to limit himself to just a morning and afternoon smoke – not that he’s happy about it. He takes a long, slow drag as he eyes the "no smoking indoors" sign, neatly paired with the smoke detector that seems to be blinking at him disapprovingly. Next to fucking his inferior officer so hard they couldn't walk for days, smoking indoors seemed like a minor rule to break.

----------

It had started weeks ago, after a bitter comment he half-heard from some rookies in the common room after an exhausting session, designed during the previous monthly meeting and run under your command.

Their backs were turned to Price as they sat at the table, unaware he stood a distance behind them – seeing the captain occupying such spaces was rare, his work keeping him cooped in his office, and it was only checking the supplies that needed to be replenished that had brought him here.

"The Captain is too old to fuck with her, I'd bet Lieutenant McTavish. She serves under him anyway, yeah?"

The other rookie scoffed. "I bet she serves under him alright."

Price decided he’d heard enough and cleared his throat, turning around and stepping over. The soldiers bolted up, standing to attention.

There was no need for you to hear this, he mused, especially when he could handle it himself.

"Finished with training, boys?" They respond with a “yes sir” in unison, and Price saw the hope in their eyes that he missed their conversation.

"Not if you have breath to talk like that. Do it again, whole thing."

A cruel punishment when an office discussion would have served, motivated by the flush of anger he felt in the moment at the suggestion his officers would be so easily corrupted. But as he laid in bed that night, their words echoed through his mind. Sleeping with you? He could genuinely say he had never thought of that before; the battlefield keeps his mind hostage, no space for fleeting fantasies. He was a good captain and respected his inferiors, perhaps beyond what other captains would deem as wise. He wasn't going to fantasise about you because you were a human with breasts and a vagina.

But then he thinks about your first meeting with the team, remembers shaking your hand, the firm grip warming his palm as you beamed at him. Your hands were soft in his, barely weathered despite your time in the field. Soap was delighted at being the only Lieutenant assigned a Second Lieutenant that had to be transferred in, despite Price's insistence that it was a purely random decision to implement someone trained in new combat drills. You were equally as smile-y as the Scot behind you, and Price thought if your smile was any brighter it would hurt his eyes.

Your hands and that beautiful mouth. He wonders if all of you is soft, how your work has left you scarred, what else is hidden underneath that tight-fitting uniform and heavy gear. How it would feel to run his hand up your arm, pull him against you under the sheets, his fingers wet with your spit as your tongue runs over them, keeping those pretty eyes locked with his as he’s pushing right up against there –

He shoves his face against the pillow until his lungs ache for oxygen, only pulling back for a gulp of air when he feels the burning in his lower stomach dissipate. These were just silly thoughts the rookies planted in his mind, and his tired brain indulging in primal nonsense. There was nothing deeper, certainly nothing regarding you. You were a good recruit and he liked that; he’s just looking out for you, right?

I would’ve reprimanded any junior talking about their lieutenant that way – nothing more.

For a second he falters, dragging his step as his brain works to compute the next best option; does he wave? Pretend he doesn’t see you, lost in thought? Smile and hope you don’t want to stop for a conversation, busy with work?

A small spark of rage reignites within him as he thinks of the comments, rolling himself onto his side with a huff. And as he falls asleep, the captain tried to ignore the quiet voice asking him whether he feels angry at the idea of his Lieutenants being tempted, or if it was the temptation being you.

----------

The next time he bumps into you is the evening a few days after the meeting, when dinner has finished, and most are retiring to their rooms. There's an unmanageable amount of folders in your arms as you hurry down the halls.

“Lose another bet with Soap?”

It wasn't that he was hoping to avoid you, but your presence makes him feel stupid, unassertive as he fumbles uncharacteristically through sentences. The next morning after his encounter with the rookies, he burnt himself pouring water into his mug when you walked in, and soon Price realised he stumbled every time he noticed your presence. The latest meeting affirmed what Price had been trying to deny; not only did you stir something within him, the times you look at him make him hope you feel something back.

Your eyes automatically flicker to him as each footstep brings you closer, a smile growing on your face when you recognise him, accompanied by a respectful nod. He could just nod back and keep on walking. Yet despite all his hesitancy, he finds himself to be the first one opening his mouth.

You let out a laugh this time, better than the small smile he got before and after the meeting. He can’t help the way that a smile tugs at his lips from just hearing the melody. The papers rustle as you readjust your slipping grip to stop and talk, and he prays that you don’t notice his lingering look at the way the folders pressed against your chest.

“Let me help you, soldier.”

From the apprehension that flashes across your face, he can predict your rejection before it leaves your mouth, cutting you off.

“You think a captain doesn’t do paperwork too? C’mon. You’ll save me from doing more when you drop those folders and lose something important; missing file reports are a bloody bastard to get done.”

To his relief, the smile returns and blooms into a grin.

“When you put it that way sir, I can’t refuse.”

You struggle to keep everything organised as you separate the piles, and Price instinctively swoops his arms underneath yours to catch any strays that might fall. The move pulls him closer to you, and he hates how he can feel his heart beating faster in his chest. Mumbling a thanks, you manage to divide the stack and hold out a half. Price grabs them, ignoring the way his fingers brush over yours as they hold the stack steady. The pile he takes is heavier than it looks, and he’s surprised you were carrying double the weight without more strain. They’re warm from your grip and he ignores the terribly childish thought about how this is some kind of indirect hug.

“Gettin’ in some extra weight training lugging this around, son. Got a strong set of arms on you.”

He needs to stop complimenting you during every goddamn interaction.

“Thank you sir, guess it’s assurance our training works well. It’s just to my office; you won’t have to carry them for long.”

He hums in approval, letting silence fall between you as he keeps a slow pace, listening to your footsteps fall in tandem. The hallways are empty, and a selfish part of him hopes they stay that way as he basks in your presence.

“It wasn’t a bet, by the way.”

“Sorry?”

“The paperwork, sir, it wasn’t a bet. It was actually really funny – we had some time to kill after training, and Lieutenant Riley and Lieutenant McTavish thought they would try and give me some lessons on hand-to-hand combat.”

“Based on your evaluation feedback, eh? Good lad, working for improvement.”

His approval seems to bring a warm flush to your cheeks that he can just catch in the poor barrack lighting, and suddenly he’s not sure he wants to stop complimenting you.

“Yes sir, thank you sir. L.T. McTavish promised me some lessons and it was convenient that Lieutenant Riley was there too.”

“What was so funny about training, then?”

He can see the door to your office come into view as you turn the corner, and his weary arms feel a little grateful it isn’t much further.

“Oh, it wasn’t the training, sir! They decided to show me some basic combat, and when we’d played around with that, we got to using prop guns as close combat weapons. After a while they started using the guns as weapons to fight each other, and then – “

Price frowns as you cut yourself off sharply, falling silent as the smile drops from your face. He raises a thick eyebrow at the break in speech, but your eyes are suddenly glued to your destination of the door with a feverish interest.

“And then?”

There’s a hesitant quiet before you respond, and Price thinks he can almost hear the gears in your brain turning.

“Lieutenant McTavish… thought it was not a good idea. Because it was irresponsible and could break the decoys or hurt someone.”

If the pause wasn’t suspicious enough, the (rather specific) answer most certainly was. Lieutenant McTavish? Thinking something is a bad idea? You come to a halt at the door, and he stops in turn, watching you.

“And that was funny?”

“Uh… Yes, sir.”

The door swings open as you turn the knob, stepping in and letting the folders fall on the desk with a sigh of relief. Price follows suit, letting the door fall closed behind him as he places his folders neatly next to the pile on the table before turning to you, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the desks’ edge. You stand next to him in front of the desk, eyes flickering between his intimidatingly relaxed stature and the closed door. Instinctively assessing the room and its exit points. Like prey.

“Can’t imagine McTavish would suddenly find such sensibility in the middle of fuckin’ around.”

The way your eyes look anywhere but his face would be amusing if he wasn’t slightly concerned about the state of his Lieutenants and the training equipment. Though, he assumes since Soap and Ghost thought they could get away with it by using you as their little lackey, nothing serious enough had happened to warrant any immediate action; he would confirm with his lieutenants later though, knowing their irritating tendency to shrug off anything but life-threatening injuries.

“You had to…” He watches you swallow as your eyes finally meet his. “You had to be there to get it, just... Funny in the moment kind of thing.”

“Right, right, ‘course. So, if I was to look through these folders…” He picks up one sitting on top just to make a point, watching your reaction. “… This extra paperwork wouldn’t happen to be accident report and equipment replacement forms, eh?”

Nothing comes from your lips as you part them to speak, and you settle for a nervous shake of your head. He notices the flexing of your arms as they rest behind your back, at an informal stance of attention; fiddling with your hands, he suspects, and the way he’s making you nervous sends a rush to his head. You were never arrogant in your responses, but sure and steady, and the sudden change in your demeanour was thrilling to him. Lying to others clearly escaped your many capabilities, and although he could just bust you right now, he doesn’t.

“And if I went to the infirmary logs, I wouldn’t find a muppet or two listed as treated at some point today? All prop guns will be neatly organised in their respective storage spots?”

There’s a pleading in your eyes as they meet his again, and Price knows he should stop tormenting you with this game. That this game is leading his mind to a dangerous place, and he doesn’t know how long he can maintain the boundaries of professionalism as you tremble in front of him. But he won’t be the first one to break, and something inside him can’t but enjoy the interaction, egging him on – so he lets you suffer before applying more pressure.

“You were asked a question, soldier.”

“Sir?”

He watches you flounder for a few more seconds, stuttering and stumbling over the excuses racing through your mind. “I-I think I should start my work sir, thank you for helping me carry-“

As you reach out to take a folder from the top of the pile, he uncrosses his arms and moves in a flash to capture your hand against its surface, pinning it there.

The silence is almost ringing in his ears as he takes a moment to watch you, caught into leaning closer towards him. If Price took not even a step closer, he’d be towering over you; any further and he could feel you pressed up against him.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me. S’important to keep the Captain informed.”

Every muscle screams at him to give in, to pounce on you. To satisfy the urge to move he slides his arm between you to put the folder back on the table. He lets it fall from his grip before he forces it back to his side, goosebumps prickling where his arm brushes against your shirt. He doesn’t know what miracle is keeping his self-control hanging by a thread, but he’s listlessly thanking every lesson in self-restraint and patience he’s had. He can’t keep the gruffness out of his voice, scratchy as it rumbles out of him.

“Not bein’ entirely honest.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, and the stutter in your breath tells him that he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he hoped. But you don’t pull away and your hand stays under his, warm, the shaking lulled beneath his steadying hand.

“Sir…”

He takes the step closer, keeping his hand atop of yours. You need to look up to keep eye contact with the captain, and he knows that this is the last time he’s ever going to get to be this intimate with you. Even as they rush by faster than he can keep up with, one stream of thought is loudest: he can’t be doing this. Price had seen this path before, dismissed soldiers from service who had followed it. Even if he did resign to the idea he liked you, it couldn’t go anywhere. Two soldiers couldn’t fraternise, let alone an inferior and their captain.

And it wouldn’t even matter; you were going to pull away. He was making you nervous, wishfully interpreting your fear as desire. Classic fuckin’ projection. This was going too far; a creepy, old officer taking advantage of a good, young soldier. He can’t make himself move, can’t retract his hand from yours, and he knows it’s a matter of time before you do it for him. He breathes in your scent, surprised he can even inhale and waits for you to move, wishing the moment wouldn’t end.

The world doesn’t feel real when you make the first, most unexpected move. You close the gap, body finally against his, and he knows that this is all a dream when your lips connect. But the way your hand cups his cheeks, rubs against the bristle of his beard feels so real, and the shock begins to subside as he kisses back tenderly, afraid the move will shatter whatever illusion he’s experiencing.

His heart wrenches as you’re pulling back too soon, missing your skin against his lips and cheek, but looking at your expression immediately tells him why. Something almost like shame stirs when he realises he’s been paying enough attention to you that reading your thoughts has become easier, but it’s not a challenge when they’re just an echo of his own; we shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t have done that, we need to stop right now. But Price’s thread of self-control has snapped – it snapped the moment your lips met his – and he doesn’t care about regret or reservations anymore.

There’s only one thing that’s stopping him. He wants to be sure you want this, wants to know this isn’t a mistake.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t–“

“Will y’do it again?”

The question makes you look as stunned as he feels by the kiss, and the playing field suddenly feels a lot more level. Confidence surges back into him, and as words escape you once more, he has a better idea.

“Just tell me to stop.”

His empty hand snakes to your waist and pulls you back into him, letting you rest for a few moments as he waits for rejection. Nothing but a small huff escapes you at the collision, and Price has never moved faster in his life. When your lips meet again, he kisses you like every second breathing is a waste of time; passionate, breathless and hungry. Finally unpinning your hand from the folder, he moves it against his chest. It spurs you to life, fisting the material in a tight grip as your other hand makes itself home in his hair. Price feels himself twitch in anticipation for the moment that it’s guiding him between your legs, and the jolt keeps him grounded. He needs to take it slow, give you enough time to stop. This was already taking too much in his mind, and he was only stealing as much as you would give him. But the way you kiss him back is almost bruising, and the grip on his shirt wouldn’t let him step back if he tried. He breaks the kiss to press his mouth into your neck, and the way you whimper rips a groan from somewhere deep. It takes effort that makes his body hurt to not bite down as he leaves a trail of kisses, finding a place on your collarbone to suck at, until there’s the smallest mark fluorescing against your skin.

Straightening up lets him take a good look at you, flushed and out of breath from his ministrations. He wishes that he’d done this sooner, and an overwhelming urge to make up for lost time hits him so hard that he feels lightheaded. It’s delightfully easy for the captain to man-handle you, spinning you against the desk and nudging your thighs apart with a careful but firm knee. The hand that was in his hair clutches his shoulder for support, and he keeps his hand steady on your waist. But his knee doesn’t press up yet, keeping his distance.

“Y’know what happens to inferiors when they disobey their superiors, don’t you?”

The way your pupils dilate is exhilarating and he feels him twitch again, slowly pressing against the tightness of his pants. Whatever doubt that’s rooted in his brain is drowning underneath the hunger for you, but he refuses to take chances. He can feel the need rising in his stomach, and the fiendish desires that come with it. He wants you to know what you’re getting into – and maybe a small part of him is still in denial, craving reassurance. One last chance to back out.

“They get punished.”

Anything; the grip on his shirt slacking, a twitch backwards, a crease in your brow. But you just peer up at him with anticipation, unswayed by his conviction, jaw slightly agape as he watches the words sink in. He takes his hand from his chest where it encapsulates yours, bringing it to meld against the plush of your cheek, and the way your bottom lip catches under the thumb tracing it has his mind set on what’s coming next. You kiss the pad of his thumb, and as a small hiss slips from him, something sparkles in your eyes.

“Punished? I’m just doing paperwork, like I’m told, sir.”

Then he feels it; the roll of your hips, barely enough to brush your crotch against his thigh. His grip on your waist stiffens as he tries not to tremble. Your breath catches in your throat at the pressure, and he hopes it frightens you. So unaware of what he wants to do to you.

“Doing like you’re told?”

A stray piece of hair brushes against his hand and he pushes it behind your ear, meticulously using the move to drag his fingers down your neck until he can extend his digits, fitting your neck into the crook of his hand. Feeling you swallow underneath his grip is pushing him, and the way he throbs against the seam of his pants is fighting his urge to drag this moment out until he can commit it to memory.

“Funny. I didn’t tell your hips to move. Didn’t tell you to give me cheek.”

With his hand around your throat, you still give him that bratty attitude.

“Part of the service sir, free of charge.”

He has no question that you want this, the reality has sunk in, and it’s only a matter of how fast he can get you on your knees.

“Second Lieutenant, I think you’ve forgotten how this works.”

A gasp breaks from you as he tightens his grip, just enough to make breathing difficult.

“I think you… need another lesson. Y’need a reminder of what your mouth is for, how you should be usin’ it. As Captain of this platoon, it’s my duty to reinforce punishment for misbehaviours.”

“You report to my Lieutenants. My Lieutenants report to me. I am your Captain. You report to me, with honesty.”

Price squeezes harder, completely restricting your airway, watching as your face reddens.

The hand around your throat falls to his side, and he lets go of your waist to pull your hand from his shirt, the fabric wrinkled and creased. It pains him to vacate his leg from the warm, plush thighs around it as he takes a step back, but he’s well aware that it’s going to be worth it.

“On your knees, solider.”

Without a word you push off the desk, sliding down the sturdy wood of the desk and to your knees, right at his feet. The lack of resilience is intoxicating, wrapping around his lungs and squeezing the air out of them. Without waiting, your hands are running up his thighs but before they can get to his zipper, he snatches them into a tight grip to press against your head.

“I don’t think so. No hands.”

The stare he fixes you is stern enough to keep you in place as he unzips his pants, just slightly tugging them down. His fingers slip further to his pocket, pulling out a cigar to hang in his teeth and an accompanying matchbox. A lifetime of smoking has the move perfected, and he doesn’t even need to watch, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he strikes the match and burns the cigar butt with a slow, deep inhale. Anticipation is doing his job teasing you, and he can see your thighs squeezing together; good, wearing yourself out for him. When you squirm on your heels, he exhales a plume of smoke, dropping the matchbox on the desk.

“See? Wasn’t that hard t’listen.”

The conflict in your mind is apparent; take the degradation or not. Heat rushes through his stomach at the way your jaw clenches, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue, and he thinks the attitude adjustment deserves a reward.

“Good pet, keepin’ your mouth closed. Maybe you won’t be too hard to teach.”

Price takes another long drag, taking the cigar between his fingers.

“Hands behind your back. Get started.”

“Of course, sir.”

He tries to open his mouth to reprimand your snark but instead a growl tears through him as your cheek rubs over the damp material at his tip, leaving it sticky and glistening when you pull back.

You don’t let him catch a breath, delicately grasping the band of his underwear between your teeth to begin tugging them down. The grip on his cigar is precarious and another drag steadies it as you pull down far enough for his cock to fall free, already tacky and wet from being pressed against him.

“Everythin’ out love, not just my cock.”

The small noises of surprise are muffled as he pushes your face into the shaft, an upwards roll of his hips pressing his balls against your lips. It’s almost pornographic as each thrust of his hips drags his aching cock across your face, leaving your skin shimmering with trails of pre-cum. Your cheeks are soft and pliant as they smush against his cock, and the hot rush of air and wetness of your spit each time his cock glides over your lips is almost unbearable. A needy moan vibrates against his cock, the sensation eliciting one of his own. The idea of cumming from just rubbing against someone’s face sounds ludicrous, but as his muscles tense, he needs to pull away before he splatters across your pretty face and gasping lips. Your hair falls from his grasp as he clutches your jaw, gripping it with enough force to hurt, tilting your gaze towards his.

Teeth graze against his skin as you nip the band again and he hisses, fixing you with a stern glare. But the way his dick jumps at the pain betrays him, so he settles for another long drag, watching as you finally accomplish your goal. You let go of the band with a snap, the tight pressure of the elastic under his sack making his shaft throb; on purpose, he suspects.

You sit back on your heels and take it in, almost admiring your work. He loves the way you look at him, studying his twitching and weeping cock, but Price wants to be in control of this moment. A hand tangles in your hair to attain a dominant grip, tugging your head to stay still exactly where he wants it.

“Gonna tell me what my Lieutenants did?“

“They were…”

Satisfaction bubbles in his stomach as you look up at him, sticky, flushed and messy while you lick your lips. He wants you to give in, admit defeat and let him reward you.

“They gave me a close combat lesson and then cleaned down the room, sir.”

It’s so quiet he can hear each breath you take as the satisfaction is replaced with a fiery determination. He doesn’t react or respond, just watches as your eyes dart around his face, trying to gauge some level of reaction. Nothing gives as he rights himself up, dropping your jaw from his grip. The spark of his cigar is dying out, and the last embers glow as he takes a final puff.

“Y’had more than a fair chance, soldier.”

The cigar crunches as he fully extinguishes the expired butt on the desk, letting it fall with a thunk. With both hands free, he tenderly gathers your hair into a bunch, before yanking it back and pinning it against the desks’ surface. The back of your head hits the edge, and he’s satisfied at the yelp and indignant frown it draws from you.

“I’m gonna fuck this mouth ‘til you remember how to be a good soldier. At least work out the fuckin’ stress y’cause me.”

Keeping one hand to trap you against the desk, he wraps the other around his shaft. Spit gathers on his tongue before he opens his mouth, letting it fall down and splat onto his member, making a sticky noise as he rubs it along the length.

“Open up.”

You part your lips, hanging out your tongue and he can’t stop his eyes from rolling back when his cock finally enters your mouth. He knows this isn’t going to last long; Price is a man of drive over energy, stamina ebbing and flowing that’s compensated for by his meticulous touches, manipulative and focused on drawing out every pleasurable sensation he can create whether it’s with his cock or another tool. But in your office, after hours and pressed up against a desk isn’t the right place to bring you apart underneath him, and he has to settle with leaving you a taste only he can satiate.

The way you can’t do anything but let the captain work his hips is erotic, brows crinkled in desperation, eyes wet and pleading, helpless to do anything but speed up the process. It's a miracle he remembers how to speak as shallow jerks massage pre-cum across your tastebuds. In the same moment, he can feel your tongue press against him and his hips stutter.

“Bloody hell, darlin’. Use that fuckin’ tongue.”

Price thrusts further into your mouth, working his way in. You try to swallow around him, spit dribbling from your lips as you do your best to manage the intrusion, and he grunts at the suction it causes.

“Needy little love, eh?”

Another moan vibrates his cock stronger than before, and an animalistic growl is the last thing you hear before he forces the full length in. The way your throat tightens as you gag has his knees weak, and when his balls are flush with your chin, he takes a moment to regain his breath. A slick noise catches his attention, and he realises a hand is between your thighs, slipped under your panties and working away. He’s too close to draw the punishment out any longer, ignoring your absence of permission, and the fact that you’re getting off to being face-fucked is enough to reinvigorate the man.

“Can’t lie for shit, hm? Your body can’t either, just fuckin’ look at that. Playin’ with yourself as I use you.”

Every noise you make courses through him like electricity, and the degradation has you humming and whimpering. Picking up the pace again, lewd, watery plaps fill the air as he fucks your throat. Fluids trickle down his balls, droplets splashing onto your clothed chest with each slap against your chin. The deeper thrusts keep you gagging, stimulating tears that fall down your face, running the military-permitted mascara in black streaks as your eyes squeeze closed. The way you’re falling to pieces underneath him is exhilarating, better than any wet dream or weak fantasy he’s been entertaining himself with. His thrusts grow more erratic, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

“Look at me. Fucking – Look at me.”

Tears drip down your cheeks, nose buried against his pelvis as he feels your throat convulse around him. You blink rapidly up at him, trying to clear your eyes to meet his.

“Watch me while I fill your fuckin’ throat.”

When the words leave his lips, he can see your hand working faster and he feels heat rushing to his loins, thrilled at the idea of coming with you. He picks up the pace, each rough movement driving your head against the wood, and a faint voice in the back of his mind notes to grab Panadol after. The peak of his climax rapidly builds as praise falls from him between pants, telling you how "fuckin’ good" you look taking every bit of his cock.

As he throws his head back, a hand wrapping in your hair and driving his cock the deepest it can go, he prays the walls are thick enough to muffle the depraved grunts and groans he makes while emptying his balls. He feels your body spasm as your own orgasm rushes through you, the high-pitched vocalisations ringing around him as your hips gyrate into your palm and the other clutches at his pant leg. The adrenaline is rushing through him, feeling lightheaded but finally satiated. A hand unclenches from the desk and the other releases your hair, massaging your scalp almost apologetically. When he feels himself soften, he resigns to slowly pulling out, wishing he didn’t have to break the intimate connection. The cum you can’t swallow spills, leaking out and slowly seeping down your neck, onto your chest and shirt.

You look beautiful, face covered in liquids, dishevelled, and still recuperating from your orgasm. Affection overwhelms him and he crouches down, hooking his arms under yours to pull you up from your kneeling position, and sitting onto the desk. A small noise of discomfort makes him feel guilty and Price pushes between your thighs, tentatively pulling you closer into him as a hand rests against your back. The other covers your knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the pressure marks. He feels relieved when you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head to his chest. The room is peaceful, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and he rests his chin against the top of your head. Although logic returns to him and rationality begins compiling the consequences of his disobedience, he can’t find himself to care, breathing in that same shampoo smell. He hopes next time – will there be a next time? – he can shower with you, surrounded by your scent. As he loses himself to thoughts of possibilities, a small voice breaks him away.

“It was only a decoy pistol, sir.”

It takes a moment to comprehend what you mean, but the realisation snatches a snort from him.

“... And two SA80s.”

Suddenly, the situation is a little less funny, but he settles on the idea it could have been worse.

“… They ripped a mat open and Ghost had a concussion.”

Of course. He closes his eyes, mentally cursing the two idiots and the additional work they’ve added to his already bursting schedule. But he feels your shoulders shake with laughter, and he can’t keep a smile from his own face. While he’d never tell the two men, they could’ve burnt down the barracks and Price wouldn’t care; as long as it led to right here, with you in his arms.

#price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #captain john price x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #jams fics #jams writings

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muiitoloko · 5 months ago

Note

hi! Could you write something for Frank but with a younger reader? Something fluffy and cute 🙈(and maybe with some smutt👀) where the reader is a baker (Frank having a seweet tooth🥰) , I find it very interesting and cute when the professions are so opposite/diferent 💫🙈

Ty!!! 💖✨

Title: The Sweetest Mission

Summary: A lieutenant general's routine is upended by the warmth and love he finds at a local bakery.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Hey there! That sounds like an adorable idea. Thanks for the sweet suggestion! 🥰💫

Also read on Ao3

Frank Benson drove to headquarters silently, as he did every day. His eyes were always alert, scanning the streets and keeping an eye on everything around him. The gun on his waist was a familiar weight, and his military uniform was impeccable, a testament to his disciplined nature. Frank straightened the tie around his neck, and that was when he saw it—A small, pink, and cute bakery that seemed new, and the sight of the delicacies in the window made Frank's stomach growl.

Checking the clock on his dashboard, Frank saw that it was still early. He would arrive on time even with a quick stop. Deciding to indulge his sweet tooth, he parked the car and walked toward the bakery. The bell above the door tinkled as he entered, and the warm, sugary aroma enveloped him.

You were behind the counter, arranging a tray of freshly baked pastries. The sight of Frank in his military uniform caught your attention, and you couldn't help but smile. With a playful glint in your eyes, you greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning, sir! Are you here to confiscate our delicious merchandise?" you joked, your voice light and teasing.

Frank's stern expression softened slightly, a hint of amusement in his hazel eyes. "Good morning," he replied, his baritone voice steady. "I assure you, I'm here purely in a personal capacity."

You chuckled, appreciating his dry humor. "Well, in that case, welcome to Sweet Haven Bakery. What can I get for you today?"

Frank glanced at the display, his eyes lingering on the assortment of pastries, cakes, and cookies. His stomach growled again, louder this time, and he felt a small pang of embarrassment.

You noticed and smiled warmly. "Everything looks tempting, doesn't it? We have fresh croissants, éclairs, and some very popular cinnamon rolls."

Frank nodded, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. "I'll take a cinnamon roll and a black coffee, please."

As you prepared his order, you couldn't help but notice the contrast between Frank's stoic demeanor and his obvious delight at the prospect of a sweet treat. "You know," you said conversationally, "we get all kinds of customers here, but I think you're our first military officer. Are you stationed nearby?"

Frank accepted the coffee and cinnamon roll, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your cheerful demeanor and the playful sparkle in your eyes. It was second nature for him, as a soldier, to be suspicious of everything and everyone. He read your name on the badge—[Your Name]—and analyzed the situation, questioning silently why you were asking him questions. Was it simple curiosity, or was there something more?

You noticed the suspicious gleam in the older man's eyes and smiled slightly, deciding to lighten the mood. "Don't worry, I'm not a Russian spy if that's what you're thinking," you joked, your tone warm and teasing.

Frank's expression softened a fraction, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Good to know," he replied dryly. "Though I suppose a bakery would be an excellent cover."

You chuckled, appreciating his dry humor. "We do our best to remain inconspicuous. So, are you stationed nearby, or just passing through?"

Frank took a sip of his coffee, considering his response. "I'm stationed not too far from here," he said finally, his tone measured. "Headquarters is about a twenty-minute drive."

"Ah, I see," you replied, nodding. "Must be a demanding job. How do you find time to enjoy the simple pleasures, like a cinnamon roll and coffee?"

Frank looked at you, his eyes thoughtful. "It can be challenging," he admitted. "But sometimes, taking a moment to enjoy the little things is necessary. Helps to keep a sense of normalcy."

You smiled warmly, appreciating the glimpse into his life. "I couldn't agree more. Life can get hectic, and it's important to find those moments of peace. And speaking of peace, I hope you enjoy that cinnamon roll. It's one of our specialties, sir...?"

Frank took a bite, savoring the sweet, buttery pastry. He nodded in approval. "Lieutenant General Frank Benson, and it's excellent," he said, his tone sincere. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you replied, pleased by his compliment. "If you ever need a break from the chaos, feel free to stop by. Sweet Haven Bakery is always here to provide a bit of comfort."

Frank looked at you, his hazel eyes softening with warmth. Before he could respond, the doorbell tinkled again. You turned your attention to the new customer entering the bakery. "Good morning, Mr. Hart," you greeted warmly, your smile widening. "How are you today?"

The man, dressed impeccably in a suit and leaning on an elegant umbrella, nodded politely. "Good morning, [Your Name]," he replied, his tone polite and reserved.

Frank observed the interaction, his curiosity piqued by the respect and familiarity you showed toward Mr. Hart. The newcomer acknowledged Frank with a courteous nod, and Frank returned the gesture with a slight wave. With a final, appreciative look at you, Frank took his coffee and cinnamon roll and made his way back to his car.

As he settled into the driver's seat, he couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself. He took another bite of the cinnamon roll, savoring the sweet, buttery flavor. "Damn," he muttered, a hint of regret in his voice. "Should have bought another one."

Driving through the streets, Frank reflected on the brief but pleasant encounter. The warmth and lightheartedness you brought to the conversation had been a welcome change from the stern and disciplined environment he was accustomed to. There was something comforting about the way you interacted with him, a sense of normalcy that he hadn't realized he missed.

Arriving at headquarters, Frank parked his car and finished his coffee. He straightened his tie and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the day's responsibilities. The fleeting moment of indulgence at the bakery had given him a small but meaningful boost, reminding him of the importance of finding balance amidst the demands of his role.

As he walked through the halls of the military headquarters, his thoughts drifted back to you and the small, pink bakery. He made a mental note to stop by again soon, perhaps even making it a regular part of his routine. After all, everyone needed a little sweetness in their lives, even a seasoned military officer like himself.

Later that day, during a break between meetings, Frank found himself thinking about the brief conversation he'd had with you. There was a genuine warmth and sincerity in your demeanor that had left an impression on him. It was a stark contrast to the often cold and calculated interactions he had within the military.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he had enjoyed the encounter. Perhaps, he mused, there was something to be said for taking a moment to connect with people outside of his professional sphere. It was a small reminder of the world beyond his uniform, a world filled with simple pleasures and genuine human connections.

As the day came to a close and Frank prepared to leave the office, he felt a sense of anticipation. Tomorrow, he decided, he would stop by the bakery again. And this time, he would buy two cinnamon rolls.

The next morning, Frank moved through his routine with military precision. He dressed in his impeccable uniform, the fabric pressed to perfection, and the shine on his shoes reflecting his disciplined nature. However, this morning held a sense of anticipation as he added a new stop to his routine: Sweet Haven Bakery.

As he approached the bakery, the soft pink exterior and inviting aroma of freshly baked goods brought a faint smile to his lips. The bell above the door tinkled as he entered, and he found himself scanning the room for you. There you were, behind the counter, arranging a tray of pastries with the same cheerful demeanor that had left an impression on him the previous day.

"Good morning, [Your Name]," Frank greeted, his baritone voice warm and steady. "I'm back for another cinnamon roll and a black coffee."

You looked up, your eyes lighting up with genuine pleasure at seeing him again. "Good morning, Lieutenant General Benson," you replied, your voice teasing. "Back for more of our delicious merchandise?"

Frank chuckled softly, a rare sound that surprised even him. "Indeed. Your cinnamon roll was too good to resist."

You began preparing his order, the familiarity of the routine bringing a sense of comfort. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. We aim to please here at Sweet Haven Bakery."

As you handed him the coffee and the cinnamon roll, Frank felt a sense of warmth that had been absent from his life for far too long. He looked at you, taking in your cheerful smile and the way your eyes sparkled with kindness. "You seem to enjoy your work here," he observed, his tone conversational.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. "I do. There's something wonderful about creating something that brings joy to others. Plus, I get to meet interesting people like you."

Frank's heart skipped a beat at your words. It had been years since he had felt such a connection with someone, and he found himself drawn to your warmth and sincerity. "It's a nice change from the usual routine," he admitted. "I suppose everyone needs a little sweetness in their life."

You chuckled softly, appreciating the sentiment. "Absolutely. And speaking of sweetness, would you like to try something new today? We have a fresh batch of éclairs that just came out of the oven."

Frank hesitated for a moment, then nodded, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect. "Why not? I'll take one of those as well."

As you prepared the éclair, you couldn't help but notice the way Frank's eyes lingered on you, a mixture of curiosity and something deeper in his gaze. It was clear that beneath his stern exterior, there was a kind and thoughtful man who had been through a lot.

"Here you go," you said, handing him the éclair with a smile. "I hope you enjoy it."

Frank accepted the pastry, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through him. "Thank you, [Your Name]," he said softly. "I appreciate it."

As he took a bite of the éclair, the rich, creamy filling and delicate pastry melting in his mouth, he couldn't help but let out a small sound of approval. "This is excellent," he remarked, his eyes meeting yours. "You have a real talent."

You blushed slightly, pleased by his compliment. "Thank you, Lieutenant General. That means a lot coming from you."

Frank took another sip of his coffee, savoring the moment. "Please, call me Frank," he said, his tone gentle. "There's no need for formalities here."

You smiled, nodding. "Alright, Frank. I'm glad you're enjoying the pastries. It's always nice to see someone appreciate the little things in life."

Frank felt a warmth spreading through him, a sense of connection that he hadn't felt in years. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let someone in. The memory of his ex-wife and the years of loneliness that had followed their separation weighed heavily on him, but here, in this small bakery, he felt a glimmer of hope.

"Thank you, [Your Name]," he said sincerely. "You've made my morning a little brighter."

You beamed at him, your smile infectious. "That's what we're here for. Don't be a stranger, Frank. Sweet Haven Bakery is always open for you."

As Frank left the bakery, the scent of fresh pastries lingering in the air, he felt a sense of anticipation for the day ahead. The warmth and kindness you had shown him were a reminder that even in the midst of his disciplined, regimented life, there was room for simple pleasures and genuine human connections.

Driving to headquarters, Frank couldn't help but replay the morning's encounter in his mind. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to Sweet Haven Bakery, and the thought of seeing you again brought a rare smile to his face. It was a small step, but it felt like the beginning of something new, something that brought a sense of warmth and hope back into his life.

As he parked his car and prepared to face the day's responsibilities, Frank felt a renewed sense of determination. He had found a small oasis of comfort and connection in an unexpected place, and he was determined to hold on to it. With thoughts of you and the bakery lingering in his mind, he walked through the halls of headquarters with a lighter heart and a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold.

Days turned into weeks, and Frank Benson became a familiar face at Sweet Haven Bakery. He started visiting twice a day—once in the morning for his usual coffee and cinnamon roll and again in the evening, just before closing, for a brief respite from the demands of his role. The bakery became a sanctuary for him, a place where the rigid discipline of military life could melt away in the warmth of freshly baked goods and friendly conversation.

You noticed his regular visits, and a genuine friendship began to blossom between you two. Frank admired your work ethic and the way you handled your growing business with grace and intelligence. The bakery's success was evident as you hired more employees, yet you remained as down-to-earth and approachable as ever.

One evening, as Frank entered the bakery, the bell above the door tinkled, and you looked up with a bright smile. "Good evening, Frank. Back for your second dose of sweetness?"

Frank chuckled, his hazel eyes twinkling. "You know me too well, [Your Name]. I can't seem to stay away from this place."

You prepared his usual order, chatting amicably as you did. "How was your day? Anything exciting happening at headquarters?"

Frank leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. "Same old, same old. Meetings, briefings, and more meetings. Your bakery is the highlight of my day, to be honest."

You blushed slightly, appreciating the compliment. "I'm glad we can provide some comfort. We do our best to create a welcoming atmosphere."

As you handed him his coffee and pastry, Frank's fingers brushed against yours, sending a familiar jolt through him. He found himself increasingly captivated by you—your intelligence, your warmth, and your beauty. He scolded himself for these thoughts, reminding himself of the age difference. You were young enough to be his daughter, yet he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed or how your hair framed your face perfectly.

Frank took a sip of his coffee, trying to shake off his thoughts. "You really have a talent for this, [Your Name]. The bakery is always bustling, and your pastries are top-notch."

You smiled warmly, leaning slightly on the counter. "Thank you, Frank. It means a lot coming from you. You've become a part of our little community here."

The connection between you two deepened with each passing day. Frank found himself drawn to your conversations, the way you spoke passionately about your work, and the genuine care you showed for your customers. He noticed the small things, like the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear or the delicate curve of your neck.

One evening, as the bakery was closing, Frank lingered a bit longer than usual. The last customer had left, and you were tidying up the counter. Frank watched you, his heart beating a little faster. He knew he shouldn't feel this way, but he couldn't help it. You were so vibrant, so full of life, and he was increasingly finding it difficult to keep his feelings in check.

"[Your Name]," Frank began, his voice low and filled with a mix of emotions, "I want you to know that coming here has been more than just about the pastries. Your company... it means a lot to me."

You looked up, surprised by the intensity in his voice. "Frank, I feel the same way. You've become a good friend. I enjoy our conversations and your visits."

Frank fell silent upon hearing you call him a friend. The word struck him more deeply than he had anticipated, and he didn't understand why he felt so disappointed by it. He had grown to cherish your company, and perhaps he had hoped for something more, even if he knew it was unlikely. Silently berating himself for his foolish thoughts, he stood up from where he was sitting at the counter. Straightening his uniform, he asked stoically, "Would you like a ride home?"

You looked up at him, surprised by the offer. "That's very kind of you, Frank, but you don't have to go out of your way."

"It's no trouble at all," he insisted, his tone firm but gentle. "I insist."

Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, you nodded. "Alright, thank you. I appreciate it."

Frank waited as you gathered your things and locked up the bakery. The drive to your home was quiet at first, the hum of the car engine filling the silence. Frank glanced at you from time to time, noticing the way the streetlights cast a soft glow on your face. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, his disciplined nature battling with the growing affection he felt for you.

As you neared your home, Frank finally broke the silence. "You know, I've been coming to your bakery for weeks now, and I feel like I know you quite well. But there's still so much I don't know."

You turned to look at him, curiosity in your eyes. "Like what?"

"Like what drives you," Frank said, his voice thoughtful. "What makes you happy, what you dream about. I see the passion you have for your work, but I want to know more about the person behind it."

Your heart fluttered at his words, touched by his genuine interest. "Well, I love baking because it brings joy to people. There's something magical about creating something with your own hands and seeing it make someone else's day better. As for dreams, I suppose I just want to continue growing the bakery and maybe... finding someone to share my life with."

Frank felt a pang of longing at your words, a desire he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge fully. He pulled up in front of your house and turned off the engine, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. "You deserve to be happy, [Your Name]. Anyone would be lucky to share their life with you."

You smiled softly, the warmth in his words wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. "Thank you, Frank. That means a lot coming from you."

There was a charged silence between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Frank's gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. "I should let you get inside. It's late."

You nodded, looking out the window before turning back to Frank with a playful smile. "Well, my neighbors will definitely have something to talk about now. Being dropped off by such a fancy car," you joked.

Frank suppressed a smile, maintaining his stoic demeanor. "Let them talk," he replied, his voice steady. "I doubt they have anything more interesting to discuss."

Your smile widened, and on an impulse, you leaned over and kissed his cheek. Frank's cheeks flushed slightly, a rare break in his composed exterior. He cleared his throat, struggling to maintain his usual authoritative presence.

"Thank you for the ride, Frank," you said softly, your eyes meeting his. "It means a lot to me."

Frank nodded, his voice a little rougher than usual. "You're welcome, [Your Name]. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

There was a charged silence between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You found yourself drawn to his warmth and strength, a surprising contrast to his usually stern exterior. "You know, Frank," you began, your voice low and sincere, "you're not as intimidating as you think. There's a kind heart under all that discipline."

Frank's gaze softened, his hazel eyes searching yours. "Discipline has its place," he said quietly, "but it doesn't mean I don't feel. I just... don't always know how to express it."

You reached out, your hand lightly touching his. "Maybe you don't have to express it with words," you suggested, your tone gentle.

Frank's breath hitched slightly at the touch, his eyes darkening with a mix of emotions. "You're very perceptive," he murmured, his voice dropping to a huskier tone. "It's been a long time since anyone has seen past the uniform."

You leaned in closer, your lips inches from his. "Maybe it's time you let someone in," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Frank's resolve wavered, his disciplined exterior cracking just enough for you to see the man beneath. He reached up, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek. "You're playing a dangerous game," he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of warning and desire.

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I like a bit of danger," you replied, your voice a seductive purr.

Frank's control finally snapped. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and intense. The heat between you was undeniable, a rush of emotions and desire that left you both breathless.

When you finally pulled back, Frank's eyes were dark with passion, his breathing ragged. "I've been alone for a long time," he admitted, his voice raw. "I don't know if I can give you what you deserve."

You shook your head, your fingers brushing his lips. "Just be yourself, Frank. That's all I need."

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "I'll try," he promised, his voice steadying. "For you, I'll try."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had let down his guard just for you. "That's all I ask," you said softly, leaning in for another kiss.

As you pulled back, you saw the genuine warmth and gratitude in Frank's eyes. "Goodnight, [Your Name]," he said, his voice tender.

"Goodnight, Frank," you replied, stepping out of the car and walking towards your building, your heart light with hope and excitement for what the future might hold.

Frank watched you until you disappeared inside, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and fear. He had taken the first step towards opening his heart again, and it felt both exhilarating and terrifying. As he drove away, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that this was just the beginning of something new and beautiful.

The weeks turned into months, and the relationship between you and Frank deepened. Your daily routine began to include not just the familiar comfort of your bakery but also the cherished moments you spent with Frank. He courted you in a manner reminiscent of an old-fashioned British gentleman, his approach both endearing and slightly amusing to you.

Frank was always the picture of decorum, his military training evident in every gesture. He would arrive at your bakery with a bouquet of fresh flowers, his hazel eyes lighting up with warmth as he presented them to you. "For you, my dear," he would say in his baritone voice, his tone both tender and formal. It was a small ritual that never failed to make your heart flutter.

You found his adherence to rules and propriety charming, even if it occasionally made you laugh. Frank was resolute in his refusal to kiss in public, a stance that both enchanted and frustrated you. "There are some things best kept private," he would insist, his tone firm but his eyes soft with affection.

One evening, after the bakery had closed, Frank invited you to his home for dinner. He had prepared a meal with the same meticulous care he applied to everything in his life. The table was set perfectly, and the food was delicious. As you sat together, the conversation flowed easily, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"You're quite the cook," you teased, taking a sip of the fine wine he had selected. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Frank chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that made your heart skip a beat. "I have my talents," he replied, a twinkle in his eye. "But I must admit, I'm rather impressed with your baking skills. You've turned that little bakery into something truly special."

You smiled, feeling a rush of pride and warmth. "Thank you, Frank. That means a lot coming from you."

After dinner, as you moved to the living room, the atmosphere shifted. There was a tension in the air, a sense of anticipation that neither of you could ignore. Frank took your hand, his touch gentle but firm. "I've enjoyed our time together immensely," he said softly, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. "You bring a light into my life that I didn't realize I was missing."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened as the passion between you ignited. Frank's hands cupped your face, his touch both possessive and reverent, as if he couldn't quite believe you were real.

The intensity of the kiss left you both breathless, and as you pulled back, you saw the raw desire in Frank's eyes. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion.

You smiled, your own desire mirrored in your gaze. "So have I."

As the weeks went by, your relationship with Frank grew more intimate. You found yourself falling for the man beneath the uniform, the one who reserved his sweetest and gentlest moments just for you. Yet, there was a part of you that longed for more, that wanted to break through the barriers of his discipline and propriety.

One evening, after another dinner at his place, you found yourself unable to resist the urge any longer. Frank was in his kitchen, preparing dessert, when you slipped up behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against his broad back.

Frank felt a warmth spread through him as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He wasn't wearing his usual military uniform today, opting instead for a casual outfit that consisted of a well-fitted button-down shirt and dark jeans. The gun strapped to his waist was a reminder of the responsibilities he carried, but tonight, he was determined to focus solely on you.

He paused his dessert preparations, placing the utensils down and leaning back into your embrace. The feel of your body pressed against his back sent a shiver down his spine. He turned his head slightly, catching your eye with a tender smile.

"You know, you make it very hard to concentrate on anything else," Frank said, his baritone voice filled with warmth.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the outline of his belt. "Maybe that's the idea," you replied, your voice a seductive whisper.

Frank turned around to face you, his hazel eyes darkening with desire. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet firm. "You've been a distraction ever since I met you," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, passionate kiss. Frank responded eagerly, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as the desire between you intensified.

Breaking the kiss, you gazed up at him, your eyes filled with longing. "Frank," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you."

Frank's eyes darkened even further, his breath hitching at your words. "You have no idea how much I want you too," he replied, his voice a rough growl.

With a swift, practiced motion, he unstrapped the gun from his waist, setting it aside on the counter. He then lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the counter. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a reverence that made your heart race.

"You drive me crazy," Frank murmured against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't get enough of you."

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his white hair, pulling him closer. "Show me," you whispered, your voice a sultry invitation.

Frank's hands slid under your shirt, his touch igniting a fire within you. He trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a burning path in their wake. As he reached the sensitive spot just below your ear, you gasped, your body arching towards him.

Frank pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I want to make you feel good."

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your desire for him overwhelming. Frank's hands moved with deliberate precision, his touch both firm and gentle. He leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as he continued to explore your body.

But Frank suddenly stopped, his breath ragged and his eyes dark with desire. With a surprising tenderness, he pulled you off the counter, and you clung to him as he carried you towards his bedroom. This was the first time you had been in his private sanctuary, and as he placed you gently on the bed, you took advantage of the break to look around.

The room was a reflection of Frank himself: impeccably tidy, everything in its place. The bed was perfectly made, the surfaces clear and organized. It made you smile, seeing this side of him so clearly manifested in his living space. Frank observed your reaction, a small, shy smile playing on his lips.

When you turned your attention back to him, he hesitated, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "I can wait if you want to wait. I don't want to rush you."

You reached out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I want you, Frank," you whispered, your voice filled with need. "I want to feel my lieutenant general inside me."

Frank's eyes darkened with lust at your words. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "My baker, you're making it hard to control myself," he murmured against your lips, his voice a rough growl.

You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him. "Then don't control yourself," you whispered, your voice husky with need. "I want you to take me, Frank. Make me yours."

Frank’s hands roamed over your body, his touch both firm and gentle. He kissed a trail down your neck, his lips leaving a burning path in their wake. "You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this," he said, his voice trembling with desire.

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Show me, Frank," you urged. "Show me how much you want me."

Frank's breath hitched as he reached out to undress you, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your denim shorts. He pulled them down slowly, his eyes darkening with lust as your pink cotton panties came into view. He paused for a moment, admiring the sight before him, the contrast of the soft fabric against your skin making his heart race.

You noticed his lingering gaze and decided to tease him a little. "Do you like them, Frank?" you asked, your voice playful and sultry. "You can keep them if you want, but I don't think they'll fit you."

Frank's grip on your thigh tightened, his hazel eyes blazing with desire. "You're so naughty sometimes," he growled, his voice a mix of amusement and arousal. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

He held your legs open for him, his hands firm yet gentle, and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, Frank leaned down and pressed a kiss to your pussy through your panties, the fabric dampening with your arousal. The sensation made you moan, your back arching into him.

"Frank, please," you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

Frank focused on the sounds you made, each moan and gasp fueling his desire. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and he was determined to make you feel good, to show you just how much he wanted you. He nuzzled his face against your pussy, his nose brushing against your clit through the thin fabric, making you shudder with pleasure.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I want to make you feel incredible."

He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and exposing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. "Beautiful," he whispered, more to himself than to you, as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your bare skin.

You whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as Frank's tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate path along your folds. He licked and sucked, his movements unhurried, savoring every moment. The feel of his warm, wet tongue against your most sensitive areas made you cry out, your body trembling with need.

Frank's hands slid up your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you open for him. He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, and you gasped, your hips bucking against his face.

"That's it, baby," Frank encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

You moaned louder, your body writhing under his expert touch. Frank's tongue moved with practiced precision, his years of discipline and control evident in the way he brought you closer and closer to the edge. He alternated between gentle licks and firm sucks, his mouth working you over until you were panting, desperate for release.

"Frank, I'm so close," you whimpered, your voice a high-pitched plea.

Frank groaned against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you and pushing you even closer to the brink. "Come for me," he growled, his voice commanding yet tender.

His words were your undoing. With a final cry, you came, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Frank didn't stop, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, prolonging your orgasm and driving you wild with sensation.

As you came down from your high, Frank pulled back slightly, his face glistening with your arousal. He looked up at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of satisfaction and desire. "You taste even better than I imagined," he said, his voice a low, satisfied rumble.

You smiled weakly, your body still trembling with aftershocks. "Frank, that was incredible," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Frank stood up, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "I'm not done with you yet," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with promise.

You shivered with anticipation, your desire for him reigniting with a vengeance. "Then don't stop," you whispered back, your voice breathless. "Show me what else you've got."

Frank's eyes darkened with renewed lust as he slowly stood up, the tension in the room palpable. You watched, your breath hitching, as he undid his belt. However, he hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Instead of continuing, he turned away, walking over to the light switch and plunging the room into darkness.

You were a little surprised, but you understood. Frank's self-consciousness about his body was something you had noticed, but it didn't change the way you felt about him. His vulnerability only made him more endearing to you.

"Frank," you called softly, your voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "You don't have to hide from me. I want you just as you are."

There was a moment of silence before Frank returned to the bed, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light filtering through the curtains. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, yet intense kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a renewed urgency.

"I need you, [Your Name]," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low, rough whisper. "I need to feel you, all of you."

You reached out, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight softness that came with age. "You're perfect to me, Frank," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. "I want all of you."

Frank groaned softly, his hands trembling slightly as he undid his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He climbed onto the bed, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his desire evident in every touch.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So damn beautiful."

You smiled in the darkness, your fingers trailing down his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. "Show me how much you want me, Frank," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Make me yours."

Frank's breath hitched at your words, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping you firmly. He positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your wet folds. The sensation made you moan softly, your body arching towards him in anticipation.

"Do you feel how hard I am for you?" Frank whispered, his voice rough with desire. "How much I want to be inside you?"

"Yes," you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Please, Frank. I need you."

With a deep, throaty groan, Frank slowly pushed into you, the thickness of his cock stretching you deliciously. You gasped at the sensation, your body shuddering with pleasure. He moved with a deliberate, steady rhythm, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust deeper.

You moaned in response, your nails digging into his back as he picked up the pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The darkness seemed to amplify every sensation, the feel of his body against yours, the sound of his ragged breathing, the way his cock filled you completely.

"Frank," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Frank didn't respond with words, his lips trailing hot kisses along your neck. He pulled your shirt over your head with a sense of urgency, his fingers fumbling slightly with your bra clasp before finally freeing your breasts. He cupped one in his hand, kneading it gently and teasing your nipple with his thumb.

"You're perfect," he muttered against your skin, his baritone voice rough with desire.

You moaned in response, the sensation of his hands on your body sending waves of pleasure through you. Despite the intensity of the moment, you couldn't help but notice the unusual silence from Frank. He was a quiet man, yes, but this level of silence during sex was new to you. It was almost as if he was holding back, afraid to let go completely.

"Frank," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I want to hear you. I want to know how much you want me."

When Frank didn’t respond again, you decided it was time to take control. Gathering your resolve, you turned him around on the bed and straddled him, catching him off guard. Even though you couldn't see his expression in the dark, you could feel the tension in his body. You were determined to make him loosen up, to break through the barriers he had built around himself.

You lowered yourself onto his hard cock, the sensation of him filling you completely sending shivers down your spine. You moved slowly at first, savoring the way he stretched you, but as you felt his hands grip your hips, you knew he wanted more.

"Frank," you whispered, your voice a sultry purr, "I want you to let go. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

You began to ride him, your movements steady and controlled, your hips rolling in a rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. Frank's hands tightened on your hips, his grip almost painful in its intensity. You could feel him holding back, his body tense beneath you.

"Come on, Lieutenant General," you teased, your voice low and seductive. "Let me hear you. Show me how much you want this."

You picked up the pace, bouncing on his cock with a sense of urgency that matched your desire. Each thrust drove you closer to the edge, your moans filling the room as you rode him harder. Frank's breathing grew ragged, his control slipping as you pushed him to his limits.

"Fuck, Frank," you gasped, your nails digging into his chest. "You feel so good inside me. You're so big, so perfect. I want you to come with me."

Frank's hands moved to your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples as you rode him. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure through you, making you cry out. "That's it," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "Just like that. I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you lose control."

Frank groaned, the sound deep and guttural, as he thrust up into you, meeting your movements with a newfound urgency. "God, [Your Name]," he muttered, his voice strained. "You're driving me crazy."

You leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, your tongue exploring his mouth as you continued to ride him. "Come for me, Frank," you whispered against his lips. "Let go. I want to feel you come inside me."

Frank's control finally snapped. With a growl, he gripped your hips tightly, thrusting up into you with a force that left you breathless. The intensity of his movements pushed you over the edge, and you cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure.

Frank followed you moments later, his cock pulsing inside you as he came, his groans filling the room. You collapsed against him, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you.

Frank's hands moved to your back, his touch gentle and reassuring. "That was incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "You're incredible."

You smiled against his chest, feeling a warmth spread through you. "So are you, Frank," you murmured. "You just needed to let go."

Frank chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. "I think I can get used to this," he admitted, his tone tender.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light. "Good," you replied, your voice filled with affection. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Frank smiled, his eyes softening with warmth. "Neither am I."

As you lay together in the darkness, the bond between you strengthened by the shared intimacy, you felt a sense of peace and contentment. You had found something special with Frank, something worth holding onto. And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #frank benson x reader #eyes in the sky

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manifesting-minerva · 4 months ago

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Ghosts and Banshees (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader) - Part 2

Author's Note: Thank you for the love shown on the first imagine I posted. I appreciate the support therefore I decided to write a Part 2. Let me know what you think. Minerva 🐦‍⬛

Summary: The new recruits get to have a taste of Y/N and Ghost does as well. She might've left a bit of a bitter taste on one specific recruit but not on Simon's tongue.

Warnings: Language, slight degrading, threatening

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Y/N set down the boxes she brought with her from home filled with decorations. "This apartment needs a makeover." She talked to herself. With her music on, she started dusting and washing the place, occasionally flexing a move to the beat and singing along. Until she settled in, Price was generous to offer her a couple of days off to get to know their routine and to settle in her apartment comfortably. The living room was the first room that introduced the apartment, a couch and two armchairs adorned the area with a balcony to her left.

Walking right was a small kitchen with a dinner table and some chairs. The bedroom and bathroom were situated on either side of the corridor and a small office area where she could work on mission files. She couldn't complain as it was perfect for at least 2 people to live in.

Price was also generous to offer her her own office as a medic since she had the qualifications and nonetheless experience. Gaz, Soap and Ghost were decided to help her out with her luggage and boxes up to her apartment.

"Are ye plannin' on staying a decade?" Soap teased when he saw her unpack her clothes from the luggage and hang them into her wardrobe.

"With this occupation I don't think I'll make it that far." She giggled looking over to the boxes with labels on them. "Gaz, would you be so kind to take that box to the living room please? I don't know why I brought it in the bedroom to be honest." Gaz obliged and exited the room.

In the hassle of unpacking and cracking jokes, Ghost stayed silent until something caught his eye. From the corner of his eye, in the open luggage, he spotted something or more like some things that made his cock twitch. Underwear. Not just anyone's underwear. Lacey black and red underwater, thin strings (poor excuse for an underwear) that to his imagination could barely cover his palm. He swallowed hard as his eyes were glued to her lingerie. From thongs to g strings to lace underwear, Ghost felt his pants tighten and his face flush. Thank God for his balaclava.

"Ye alright Simon? Ye haven't said a word." Soap snapped him from his thoughts.

"Yeah I'm 'right." He said curtly.

"Ah, I didn't know your name was Simon!" Y/N exclaimed. Unbeknownst to her she took the exposed luggage that has Simon's undivided attention and pulled it towards the chest of drawers. "Is he any different from Ghost?" She teased as she folded her clothes in.

Ghost didn't even know how to answer her. Simon was a soft and a gentle man despite his past. Naturally, due to his line of work a tough shell is required and frankly he never sought to be in any relationships due to time (or the lack of it) and the dangers the job carries. He wouldn't fathom to put someone in danger or put them in a mentally challenging state especially if a mission goes south and he ends up on the other end of the gun. He wasn't selfish in that matter.

"Depends." He shrugged, praying she switches the topic. He never liked being the centre of attention although the mask he wore said otherwise. He looked over the apartment in general and took in the smell of fresh linen candles and talc, the blankets laid neatly on the couch and armchairs, the trolley full of books situated near one of the armchairs with fairy lights hanging around the living room.

It looked magical.

It looked like Y/N.

***

On Wednesday morning, Y/N woke bright and early for the new day. It was her first day training recruits. As soon as she opened the food she found Ghost in front of her closing his door as well.

"Ah, so we're neighbors as well." Y/N exclaimed, earning a scoff from Simon.

He hates me. She thought.

Why the fuck did I scoff? It was supposed to be a chuckle. He thought.

"I assume you're heading to the mess hall." Y/N said trying hey best to ignore the awkward moment.

"Yes we are." Gaz came up from behind them, putting his arms out until they tested on each of their shoulders. Together they walked together to the mess hall where they found Price and Soap already stuffing their faces in their breakfast.

"Good morning bonnie!" Soap smiled.

"Good morning lass." Price greeted her as she took a seat next to him, earning her a pat on her back. "Ready for the day? You've got your first class starting at 8am. You'll have Ghost with you just in case they cause you trouble." Ghost who was sitting opposite Y/N watching as she stuffed her face with food, nodding at Price.

She looks cute with her mouth stuffed. What the fuck Simon! Get it together! Simon mentally slapped himself. Lifting his mask above his lips, Y/N watched him sip his tea. His eyes never left her face as he swallowed.

***

While Ghost showed Y/N around, the recruits slowly filed in the training room, eyeing the sole woman amongst them. Some guffawed and some could barely walk from sleep.

"Good morning, I am Sergeant Y/N and I will be your instructor for the next couple of weeks. Lieutenant Ghost will be present today and will naturally be grading you according to your progress. Any questions?" Y/N scanned the boys in front of her.

"Actually I have one." A tall, lean boy walked towards her. "It's actually more of a concern really. How long do you intend on teaching us? Because frankly I don't want to fall back on our training due to...feminine distractions." His friends behind him chuckled and guffawed at his comment. Y/N looked behind her to find Ghost sitting on the box still, staring at Y/N waiting for her reply to the recruit. One could say that although Ghost had his poker face on, he wanted to punch the recruit in the throat for disrespecting her but he let her take the reins on this one.

Sucking her teeth and a breath in she stalked towards the boy, smirking. "What's your name recruit?"

"Thomas Boyd." He replied with a cocky grin on his face.

"Well, Thomas. If you get distracted easily, you shouldn't really be here... especially if you get distracted by a woman because I'm going to be here for a while." You retorted. Simon smiled under his balaclava, chuckling. Thomas, on the other hand, felt his cheeks grow red. Licking his lips, he brushed off the momentary embarrassment and quickly moved close in front of Y/N, face to face, looking down at her. Ghost immediately stood on his feet and flew behind Y/N. She was basically sandwiched between Ghost and Thomas. Feeling the presence behind her, she gently put a hand on Ghost's chest to tell him that she's fine without breaking eye contact with Thomas.

"If you think that a meek little girl like you can handle a group of men like us -" Thomas didn't get the chance to finish the sentence before Y/N actually pushed Ghost back, sending him stumbling, linked her right arm around Thomas's neck in a tight grip, pulled his body weight over her hips and slammed him to the floor. Two crossed knives were resting against Thomas's neck. Out of breath from the shock he felt the cold metal gently pressing against his carotid artery.

"This meek little girl could castrate you on the spot without you even noticing. So I suggest that you shut your mouth and run 20 laps. In fact, add another 5 to that until you learn your place with me. I am not here to be your friend. I am your superior and you will obey me whether you like it or not! If you don't I can show you or even better throw you out the door and trust me you won't find your way back here. So do not underestimate me. And since I'm suddenly feeling generous everyone will do the laps with you." Y/N spat, anger seething through her veins like venom. If looks could kill, Thomas would be a dead man. Her eyes were shooting daggers like icicles at him. Thomas tried to compose himself underneath her from the whiplash. His eyes traveled over to Ghost who was standing tall a few feet away from Y/N.

Lifting herself off Thomas, she looked at the rest of the class who were dumbfounded as she put her knives away. While Thomas laid on the floor in pure silence Ghost marched over to him grabbing him by the hem of his collar and pulling him to his feet with brute force. "You have a big fucking mouth for someone with such a small dick." Ghost whispered in his ear. "If I catch you opening your mouth to her unless it's an apology coming out, I will not only let her castrate you but I will rip you a new arsehole. Understood?" His grip tightened around his shirt. Thomas nodded frantically. Throwing him back on his friends, Ghost looked at the recruits in front of him.

"You heard her! 25 laps around the block! Go!" Ghost shouted. And they all scrambled together and started running for their lives. They had a new person to be scared of. Ghost walked back to Y/N who watched the initiates run.

"Are you okay?" He asked gently, looking over at her.

"Yeah," She replied. "Do you think I went overboard?" She asked him, looking up at the behemoth next to her. He chuckled.

"I told him I'd rip him a new one. So no, you didn't go overboard." He replied making her giggle softly. "You handled it well." He looked back down at her standing tall and confident next to him. The height difference would've made any girl envious.

"Come on, let's get some training in while they do their drills." Ghost lead Y/N to the mat a few feet away from them. As he watched dher hips slightly sway all Ghost could think about was that she was a little firecracker and that he was both a bit scared and turned on by it.

Focus Simon, for fuck's sake. Focus.

#simon riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost imagines #ghost x reader #call of duty #call of duty imagines #cod imagine #cod imagines #cod x reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x y/n

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lundenloves · 1 year ago

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⇀ ¹ “𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐇𝐒.”

〔 you’re slotted right into the service of doctor john price, an elite head of division and self titled marmite character — you either love him or hate him. you personally can’t quite decide, but he knows for certain that you’re not for him. what will you do after being forced to learn under his wing? 〕

˗ˏˋ and so we start a new series. doctor!price is slowly going to plague the price x reader tag, and i will not be blamed for the thirsty author notes. i’ll create a series masterlist at some point but this is just to see if anyone actually reads it and/or even likes it. but then again, who doesn’t like a sarcastic man?

⇀ 3.1k | mentions of medical procedures + blood | f!reader nicknamed ‘rev’ (later on)

masterlist | taglist | request info

Another day, another fucking alarm. Another day, another flurry of issues, problems and carnage upon barely setting one foot in the door. It was disgusting really, the way each and every nurse greeted him with an enthusiastic welcome. He wasn’t sure if it was because the shift change was now upon them or if he himself, the ray of unprecedented sunshine, was there. He met their words with a sarcastic smile and nod, shoving a thumbs up toward them before teeming through the busy corridor to reach the scrub room.

“Price, do you mind—“

“No.” He leant against the push door, his back pressed to it with a shrug and a feigned smile of empathy. “Don’t talk to me before six.” The words came blandly, face dropping after rubbing at his nose and taking the step backward to enter the room, the door involuntarily slamming.

Seventeen hour shift today, fucking dreadful. Six in the morning till nine at night. Was this good for his health, both mental and physical? No. Was this morally right? Fuck no. Was this even legal? Absolutely not. Though you were expected to check the boxes, turn up and chuck the scrubs on — by which, half of them had run out — welcome to the NHS.

The depressing scrub room was the feat of many tears, all bad of course. Accompanied by the motivational posters from the early noughties, strewn across the walls about how you’re ‘saving a life’ every day, and Price couldn’t ever help but to laugh at them every shift start. Though, by the end he would be fucking talking to the walls, the small people on the posters now his delirious friends.

“Christ.” He mumbled, tying the knot of the trousers before raking around for a passably clean scrub shirt that wasn’t covered in bodily fluids. Not even the fun kind.

The door swung open with its predicted slam, presenting a bunch of fresh faced med students who had stopped to stare at Price. “What.” He frowned, highly aware that he was standing without a shirt, white coat ditched and raking through an old scrub locker for the dispenser had run out. This was fucking poor.

They all snapped their looks away, reduced to quiet chatter before ditching their bags and rolling their sleeves in preparation for the first day of the rest of their lives. Price would have warned them had it not been quarter to six in the morning, and had he not been half as miserable as he always seemed.

Though all hope wasn’t lost, the clouds parted and a beautifully clean scrub shirt was found and chucked on to solidify that he, in fact, did hate his job. He was head of division, so scrubs weren’t a necessity though he didn’t fancy getting said bodily fluids over his regular clothes. “Ready for today, captain?” His assistant doctor, Mike, loomed by the door, bringing all of the noise from outside in with him. Four years ago he had coined the nickname ‘Captain’ for Price and it stuck. For those brave enough to talk to him anyway.

“I’d rather kill myself.” Came his short reply, shoulders dropped upon eyeing Mike in the mirror.

“Well, that’s just grand.” He held out a clipboard, hands clutched to the top and downsides of the wood. “Did you see the schedule?”

“Why would I see the schedule?” Price’s eyes met his in the reflection before turning around to lazily snatch the board from his hands. “What am I looking at?” His eyes roamed the overly complicated excel sheet, shifting his weight to one foot before flicking through the various pages that had been clipped down. “Eh?”

“New SHO resident.”

“And what?” He lulled, handing him the board back and stretching his back out as if preparing for the fucking olympics or alternatively, a shattering seventeen hour shift. I’ll let you decide that one.

“She’s on your service.”

The look of betrayal struck his face, an exasperated sigh leaving his every fucking fibre. “No she’s fucking not.” Price made it his business to let everyone know he did not like new faces on his service, regardless male or female, fucking worldclass or freshly chucked into the deep end, he did not like it. Therefore wouldn't have it.

That was the strange beauty of being not only a white coat, but also head of division — you were almost encouraged to be a bit bratty every now and then. It was like your reward for going through the last eight years of training, because the money surely wasn’t fucking worth it.

“Chuck her elsewhere.”

“You’re the only senior today.”

Price shrugged his coat back on, momentarily screwing his face while rubbing at his brows. “When is she in?” His eyes remained tightly shut.

“Seven.”

“Till?”

“Five.”

His hand dropped at that, pulling a slight face as if he hadn’t heard his co-worker correctly. “Ten hours?” Tilting his head to lean an ear closer to Mike, gesturing he repeated himself.

“She’s transferring.” He instead said, hitting the clipboard rhythmically against the side of his thigh. “From Central London.” Brows wiggled, as if the mere mention of London was valued. Which for the record it wasn’t.

Price left his assistant hanging, passing by him and holding the door open. “Monday fucking morning.” His face somehow dropped even further to accommodate for a low whistle, brows furrowed after stepping out into the upsettingly bright lights. “Floor five.” Came a mumble, lifting his arm to check the time. Six on the dot.

“Mornin’ Price, looking like death today — spend all your weekend juggling the nurses again?” A fellow white coat teased, John spinning on his heel to walk backwards, his arms wide in feigned offense.

“Morning would have sufficed.” He earned an echoed chuckle from the Doctor who had already turned a corner. “What’s on the books today then?” His voice returned to its flat state, and Mike passed him yet another excel sheet.

“You’re split today. Labour ward and one theater.” He leaned over to run his finger across the paper before Price, eventually landing on an estimated time. “Two till four.” He pointed. “Joint replacement. I’ll be with you for that one, then you’ll be joined by the new SHO for a walk around.”

“Thrilling.” He replied shortly.

Mike nodded, splitting off after they had reached the nurses station to do whatever the fuck it was Mike did when not following Price like a lost dog. John leaned on the reception counter, resting his head against his arms. “Rough night, Price?”

“Every night is a rough night.”

“Heard that one before.” Someone else chimed in from behind, coffee in hand. “Still on the coffee ban, John?” She teased, sliding the shitty paper cup toward him and Price could’ve sworn this was some type of flirting had it not been six in the morning. Which was fine, flirting was fair game, except he was usually the one doing it.

In a dramatic statement, he’d vouched to not touch coffee again after losing a scalpel inside a patient. It was most definitely his fault and not the blend like he had whispered to the nurses after the patient had been taken for re-op by junior surgeons. “He’s still going on about that?”

“I didn’t bring it up.” He scoffed, knocking his knuckles on the counter before leaning back and using the clipboard in his hand as a pointing stick of accusation. “Listen, it’s been rough—“

“We all know. It was the blend.” His deep voice had been mimicked, each nurse laughing and swivelling their chairs to face the man of the fucking hour.

“I’m telling you.” He pointed once more, rounding the counter to sift through various exposed stacks of paperwork. “What’s this?”

“I’m filing it.”

“When? Tomorrow? Pick up the speed.” He kissed his teeth, swiping a paper cup of tea from the hourly cart. “Please.” He smiled, smearing his charm all over them and gesturing his definition of speed by rolling his hands in a continuous motion.

“Away you go.”

“Thank you, gorgeous.” He had a cheek really, pushing back from the station and scrunching a second paper cup to toss it in the bin with force. The reason for his cheek being, his own office. The absolute obliteration of a room that any mother would shake her head at, any sane person would form tears at, and any other doctor would take lethal punishment over.

It wasn’t just the papers. It was the oddity of the whole room, chaotic would be your best description. Littered with miscellaneous clutter, clothes, shoes, half finished food, unrelated books and photos — some familial, some from children on wards and others completely unserious like the framed image of Yoshi on his desk. No one ever bothered to ask.

He sat down with Mike’s clipboard in hand, eyes shifting between the monitor on his desk and the fucking excel rota. Your name was underneath his, scheduled for a mere ten hours, the shift looking like an alternative to heaven had Price not signed the contract that enabled over forty hour working weeks. The frown across his brow was a sight to see, clicking around on screen before reaching the digital rota purely to find your transfer notes. Ones embedded in his higher-ups chat.

He pulled his lip up, eyes skimming through your mere experience — fresh from med-school and training in obs and gynae, though excelled in early neurology modules.

Your reason for transfer wasn’t listed and Price lifted a brow, clicking his tongue against his teeth with a grimace expression. His fingers tapped the desk in a momentous motion, each one in succession of the other after pushing his sleeve up to check the time. Six thirty.

“Price.” Came a rapid knock on his door.

“What.” He replied, patting around his pockets for the vibrating pager that he had clicked off after standing up and opening the door.

“They need you on—“

“I’m going.” The midwife nodded at his cut off, speed walking alongside him to room fifteen where a flurry of doctors had gathered. “Right, clear it, clear it.” He cleared his throat, pulling gloves on and pushing the door open to see another frantic scene.

“What do we have?”

“In determination, sir.”

Price edged his way through a few nurses and introduced himself calmly, ducking to have a look at the issue after rolling his sleeves up. The head was forcing the umbilical cord down and out of mother, resulting in possible fatality if not delivered immediately. “Cord prolapse, page the anesthetics. We’ll need a maneuver.” The midwife nodded at him. “Knee to elbow, prepare for cesarean.”

Even urgent deliveries felt almost auto-pilot for him, like zoning out and entering a catatonic state when washing his hands thrice over and thumbing two separate rounds of gloves on. “Ready?” The scrub nurse accounted for each utensil as usual before nodding to Price who returned one.

Not everyone’s six am, but all in a morning's work for the man who would rather be anywhere else. He left the theater fifty minutes later. Standing for two minutes with his bloodied gloves up, waiting for a junior doctor to assess the stitching he had made. Now, two minutes isn’t a long time but it fucking well feels like it when your hands are up. “Never seen stitches before?”

“Why didn’t you staple?” She asked timidly.

He blinked lamely. “Because we had time.”

The poor girl nodded, apologising for the time and allowing the team to wrap up — Price leaving the room with a sigh. His watch read seven twenty, something he tsked at as bullshit before passing the nurses station. Though, not without attention. “John.”

“Hmm?” He looked up, brows furrowed like always. His scrubs covered in blood spats. “What.”

Non. Fucking. Stop.

“Your SHO is here.” His eyes then trailed to you, stood with fear plastered across your face and arms tight to your chest. “Tough delivery?” She batted her eyelashes at him, making you feel like an involuntary voyeur.

“Tough paperwork?” He replied sharply, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Where’s Mike?” Eyes giving your entire frame a once over as if determining your worth right there and then.

“Behind you.” She scoffed.

“Great.” Price turned, gesturing two hands Mike’s way for you to wander to. Much like a baby taking their first unsure steps. Though, Mike had already taken off by that point and John sighed, hands placed on his hips before looking back at you.

“S’fine, I can just—“

Though your sentence was cut by nerves.

Nerves and not the six foot something man before you who stood like a disappointed parent. Not that you knew where you were going with those four words anyway. “You’re the SHO, correct?” There was a crease in his brow, one that cropped up upon your bland nod. “Follow me.” He sounded and seemed physically pained by your presence, walking away down a long stretch of corridor that you swallowed at.

Your previous hospital, while being in the center of London, was small. Surprisingly so with the amount of foot traffic that would tumble through the rotating doors every day. You’d supposed to have lucked out with that, finding your feet in one of the only central hospitals to grant you a minute in the day to fucking practice what was taught.

Everywhere else seemed a free-for-all.

Price pushed open a door and leant against it till you had caught up. “Sorry.” Though he shrugged, pulling his foot back and letting it slam against the wood after you had entered.

“Scrub room.” He gestured, rubbing a finger on his upper lip for a second before turning to you. “Brats and Twats, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Obs and Gynae.” His face couldn’t convey nonchalance anymore than it did. If anything, you could trade the word for uncaring but that wasn’t as strong. His arm dropped back down to his side, cutting the silence you had created at the thought.

For god given embarrassment, words refused you and Price nodded. “I read it.” A beat, cocking his head at your daze. “On your transfer form.”

You were out of your element. Which was to be expected, sheepishly following him around after changing into scrubs. Price seemed important, that was easily gathered by his white coat and the nods he received in the hallway, his calm yet demanding tone, the seriousness in his brow and the way he offered little to no emotion in place of sarcasm. It all pointed to vanity if nothing else.

He was doing a walk around of labour ward when you had paused to peer into a room. The sound of screaming was usual, though the open door and team of doctors around one bed was something that caught your attention. Price shifted from behind you, “How many have you delivered?”

You turned to face him, faltering at his stare. Words barely stuttering from your lip, something perhaps a child would get away with. “None.” It felt embarrassing to say amidst the chaos. “I- I never had the chance.” Seemingly grasping at straws to defend yourself under Price’s weighted eyes.

“You’ll get a chance.” He said firmly, pulling his lip upward after leaning to view the patient room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.” Your brows collapsed at his statement after he had begun to walk away again.

“You’re not going to help?”

He shook his head. “They’re fine.”

John had discarded you to the nurses after that. Retreating back to his office to put together not only a schedule but also a mental plan, accepting the fact that you were now his responsibility. Subsequently, you would also now be one of the best doctors in his service. It wasn’t a choice.

You were now a passion project for him. Of sorts.

He’d been busy most of the morning. Darting between sectors and floors without a break of any sort, though you’d come to learn from the nurses that Price doesn’t take breaks. Some hadn’t seen him eat in the five years they had been here.

Fuck that you said, taking someone’s orange and leaning on the nurses desk. Food was not escaping you. “He’s always been like that.” The head midwife, Joanna, would nod upon chatting about Price. Her eyes followed him and his glare. “Morning, John.”

“Mhm..”

“Can I ask you something?” She ticked off a few scribbled ward rounds on her clipboard, shoving it to the counter beside her.

Price stood with his arms crossed to check the measly whiteboard of the ward, one that held all patient information in a shit spreadsheet way. You’d never seen someone look so miserable, the wrinkles around his eyes were rare for the occasional smile, but a permanent crease existed between his brows. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Personal.”

“Even worse.”

You watched from the side, rolling your orange across the counter. The only chance you’d get to eat in the next nine hours. “Must be hard, eh?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Being such an arsehole.”

Price gave her a stiff laugh, his eyes catching yours over her shoulder. “Remember to remove the hard, shiny layer on the outside.” He nodded toward your fruit, arms expressionlessly dropped to his sides. “Need any help doing that?” Should’ve stuck to a fucking apple, maybe it’d have kept him away too.

“Point and case.” Joanna looked at him, flicking through a few pages of her discarded clipboard. “Can you check on room sixteen? I'm concerned she’s making slow progress.”

He sighed, taking all of four steps before he had paused to stare back at you. “Let’s go, kid.”

You ditched the orange, finding a mental note to mark that you had left it by the printer. John cleared his throat, lifting an arm to check the watch for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “Why’d you keep checking the time?”

“Time is important.” He began, “Tell me the time without looking at your watch.”

You shrugged and he tapped the side of his nose, pushing the door open with a grand sigh once you had reached the room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.”

“Now?” At your pointed emphasis of the adverb, Price tilts his head, watching the redness fill your cheeks. He struggled to understand how you hadn’t been given a chance to deliver yet.

It was barely two hours into your first shift and he was already throwing you in deep. You sensed a potential pattern, “I told you you’d get a chance.”

Fuck.

comfortably numb by pink floyd. this’ll be a series of five or so parts, unsure yet, might take it to ao3 instead.

i’m still figuring out how i want to write this world and the characters so give it a chance, the second part’ll probably be better. + one or two nicked jokes from medical tv shows🤺

it’s unedited btw i gotta work but i’ll edit later or smth

as always always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated for boosts. if no one pats me on the head every now and then i’ll sit in a hole.

any and all cod characters taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @luvfromkat @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @mistydeyes @dilfdotgov @sofasoap @bubbyblob

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bijouxcarys · 4 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑬𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Hehehe... I hope this one is enjoyable and... satisfying for you all. I went over it obsessively to make sure it was as close to perfect as it could be. It's also a long one. I was originally going to split it up into two chapters, but I felt it broke the momentum, so I just said fuck it and kept it all together. This bitch is like 12k words. Enjoyyyy ;)

CW/TW: Scenes of violence, strong language, smut (ur welcome)

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of the dining room, casting warm glows over the pristine white tablecloth and polished silverware. Nate could hear the soft clinking of china as the butlers quietly moved about, setting the table and preparing for the day ahead. The morning chef, Oskar—a short man with a neatly trimmed beard and an air of precision about him—was busy in the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafting through the air.

Dimitri sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders relaxed, a rare sight in a man who was usually coiled like a spring, ready to strike. His eyes softened slightly as he scanned the morning paper, a steam cup of coffee within reach. He looked every bit the powerful patriarch he was, exuding an effortless authority that made him both respected and feared.

Nate hesitated at the entrance, taking in the scene. It wasn’t often she caught her father in such a good mood, and the rarity of the moment wasn’t lost on her.

“Morning, Papa,” she greeted lightly, casually approaching the table.

Dimitri glanced up, relaxing a fraction more as he saw her. “Dobroye utro, Natalka,” he responded. “You’re up early.”

Nate shrugged, taking a seat around the corner from him. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

He nodded, folding the newspaper and setting it aside, giving her his undivided attention. “Anything you want to talk about?”

She offered a small smile, shaking her head. “Just the usual. You know how it is.”

Butlers moved smoothly around them, pouring fresh coffee into her cup and placing a plate of breakfast in front of her—eggs, bacon, toast, and a side of fresh fruit. Nate picked up her fork, taking a small bite as she considered how to steer the conversation towards what she truly wanted to discuss.

“How’s business?” she asked after a moment, keeping her tone light.

Dimitri’s eyes gleamed with pride and satisfaction. “Tverdyy. Everything is moving as it should. We secured the knives you won for me, and our new contacts are proving useful. There’s still some cleaning up to do, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nate replied, sipping her coffee. She paused, then added casually, “And what about Bunny? How’s that shaping up?”

“Bunny?” he echoed with a small hint of suspicion. “Why do you ask, dorogoy?”

Nate remained nonchalant. “Just curious. After the deal the other day and everything… Just wondering how it’s going, if he’s delivering, or if we’re picking up, y’know…”

He studied her for a long minute, as if trying to gauge her true intentions. And she held his gaze, bravely, refusing to be intimidated, even if her heart was erratic behind her ribs.

“We are picking up next week,” Dimitri slowly responded.

“And… The Bloodline?” She swore she saw red in his eyes. “Anything new on them?”

“The Bloodline…” he grimaced, the relaxed demeanour stiffening somewhat. “Luckily enough, we have managed to tap their SUVs. We can easily see where they are at all times.” He seemed happy with himself—elated, even. Fully knowing he didn’t have to pull many strings or work very hard to make that happen. Though, it did leave Nate in a bit of an awkward position. Not that Dimitri had to know that, of course…

Nate nodded slowly at her father, pushing the bacon around with her fork. “That’s good…” she murmured. She took a steady sip of her coffee, mulling over how to phrase her next question, even though it ultimately wouldn’t matter how it came out; it would all mean the same to Dimitri anyways.

“Y’know, I was thinking…” she started, setting her cup down. “Do you think… it’s possible that… Bunny could have acted… alone? Like… What if The Bloodline didn’t know all that was going to happen? Isn’t that a possibility we should probably consider?”

It seemed instant that Dimitri’s eyes narrowed, hardening his expression as he always did whenever he felt challenged. Lines around his mouth from years and years of smoking, deepening with the inner rage that was just waiting to unleash.

“No,” he firmly answered. “Bunny isn’t stupid, Natalka, he wouldn’t have made such a big move without backing. And The Bloodline… they’re the only ones with enough power and resources—aside from us—to pull something like that off.”

Her heart sank, but she didn’t let it show. She knew her father was stubborn, but she’d hoped she could at least plant a tiny seed of doubt in his mind. It was clear, though, that his opinion was set in stone.

“Maybe,” she conceded, lowering her gaze to her plate. “But it wouldn’t hurt to consider other possibilities, right? I mean, there’s a lot at stake here. What if there’s more to this than we realise?”

Dimitri’s jaw tightened, a sign that he was losing patience with the conversation. “Natalka,” he said, resting his arms on the table. “I’ve been in this business a long time. I know how these things work. The Bloodline—Roman Reigns—is behind this, and that’s all there is to it.”

Nate swallowed her frustration, knowing that pushing any further would only lead to a fight. She’d done what she could, and it was obvious that she wasn’t going to change his mind. At least not today.

She leaned back in her chair, feigning a casual demeanour as she decided to shift the conversation slightly. “Dad… can I ask you something?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Of course, Natalka. What is it?”

Nate hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and asked, “Why do you hate The Bloodline so much? Is there… a reason for it? History, maybe? I’ve never seen you hate someone as much as you hate Roman Reigns.”

It felt like an eternity before he actually responded. Almost reluctantly as he regarded her with wariness. And possibly a hint of… vulnerability.

“They’ve been watching us for years,” he finally said through a heavy exhale. “I would say almost a decade. They have always wanted what we have.”

“And what is that?”

“Power, Natalka. They’ve tried to muscle in on our territory more times than I can count, always lurking, waiting for us to slip up—waiting for a sign of weakness to exploit it.”

Nate listened intently, but tensed up when the implication of his words hit her. If The Bloodline had been scrutinising them for almost a decade, that meant that there was a possibility that they… could have, at least… been around during the time of her mother’s death.

Suddenly, the situation with the shipment didn’t seem so important anymore.

“Even since mum died?”

The question caught Dimitri off-guard. He froze, staring daggers straight through his daughter’s skull. “What?”

“You said they’ve been watching us for almost a decade… does that mean they were watching us when mum was killed?”

The consequences of bringing up her mother were irrelevant right now. Even though she knew Dimitri didn’t like talking about the death of Irina, the door to potential answers, emerging out of nowhere, seemed too enticing for Nate not to push further.

But instead of pure animosity, he too shared a moment of realisation. “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if they were to blame, either… gryaznyye samoantsy…”

The thought made Nate sick to her stomach. The mere concept that Roman could have had something to do with her mother’s murder. If Dimitri were to make such a comment a month prior, chances were that she’d believe it without question. She’d already be on her way to fuck some shit up, carelessly and recklessly. Even if it got her killed.

However… a big ‘however’… Four encounters and a weighty collection of back and forth texts with the very man, somehow led her to… doubt her father. She couldn’t picture Roman organising a hit on the matriarch of the Volkovs. It didn’t make sense. Surely, he’d go for the head honcho, no?

But then again, Roman worked at a pace unmatched. He didn’t rush things. And everyone knows that the way to weaken the enemy is to take out its strongest point: the family.

Ultimately, if The Bloodline had been involved in her mother’s death, even indirectly, she needed to know. And if they had any information, anything that could help her unravel the mystery that had haunted her for years, she would find it—no matter the cost.

But for now, she played her part, keeping her father’s trust, continuing to walk the tightrope she’d adhered herself to for as long as she could remember.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said quietly, meeting her father’s eyes with a steady resolve. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dimitri gave her a curt nod. “Just remember, Natalka. We’re stronger together. The Bloodline may be powerful, but they’re not invincible.”

“I know, Papa,” she agreed with a gentle nod, lips hovering over her mug of coffee. “I know,” she repeated in a quiet whisper.

She was already making plans to mention this conversation to Roman, specifically the part about her mother, but she wasn’t prepared to bring it up any time soon. Not immediately, anyways.

After all, they still had to pay a visit to Bunny.

The air in the room was slowly veering away from the dangerous territory it was snowballing into, thankfully. A few moments of silence was all it took for Dimitri to return to his breakfast, this time peering at the newspaper he’d laid open beside him on the table, rather than putting up a shield between the two of them.

“So, Natalka, what are your plans today?” he asked, reestablishing the casual tone the morning had started with.

Nate leaned back, matching his energy. “Uh, Lana’s picking me up later. She’s just got a new Panamera, so she’s very excited about that… Oh, and I think she said she wanted to take me to the vineyard she and Rusev just bought, too. So, uh… it should be fun.”

Dimitri thawed a little at the mention of Lana. He had a noticeable blind spot when it came to her, always seeing her as the epitome of femininity and grace, despite her being the same age as Nate. “Ah, Lana,” he mused affectionately. “You know what she’s like. Always needing to show off the latest thing.”

Nate nodded with a small smile. “Exactly. But it’ll be nice to see the vineyard.”

“Konechno,” he agreed. “Enjoy your time with her, dorogoy.”

“I will,” Nate shifted in her seat, before getting up and moving around the table to place a barely-there kiss to the top of her father’s greying head. “Spasibo, Papa.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The tranquillity of the late afternoon soundscape did little to ease Nate’s mind as she waited for Lana to arrive at the house. Everything was too quiet, too subdued; she was never one for such minimalism. She thrived on adrenaline. One could even go as far as to say she was addicted to the hormone. She loved the feeling of being indestructible, immortal in a sense. Like decisions and the subsequent consequences bore little weight.

It was a feeling like no other. And she wouldn’t replace it with anything.

So, when—finally—Lana’s brand new Panamera rolled into view, gliding up to where Nate was standing, her fists had already clenched in pre-adrenaline anticipation.

The car’s tinted windows reflected the golden light of the sun, making it difficult to see inside until the passenger window smoothly slid down.

“Nate! Get in, I’m double parked,” Lana called out urgently as she leaned over from the driver’s seat.

Nate didn’t hesitate, slipping into the passenger seat and closing the door with a soft thud. The interior was immaculate, the faint scent of Lana’s perfume lingering in the seats—floral and expensive. Nate shot her friend a quick smile as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Sick car,” she remarked, letting the praise fill the space between them as she settled into the plush leather seat.

“Thanks! Rusev insisted on getting it for me,” the blonde responded with a grin, her hands confidently gripping the steering wheel as she pulled away from the estate. “Says it’s safer, more reliable… But you know me, I just love the way it looks.”

Nate laughed, but it was a short, distracted sound. Her mind was elsewhere, already considering how best to navigate the next couple of hours. As they made their way past towering trees and manicured lawns of Westchester County, Nate felt the weight of what she was about to do settle in her chest. She took a deep breath, hoping to ease the tension that had coiled there, but it did very little to help.

Lana continued to fill a majority of the ride with a steady stream of anecdotes and plans for the vineyard that Rusev and she had recently acquired. Nate did nod along, throwing in the occasional comment or laugh, but her focus remained solely on her phone. She kept the screen angled away from Lana, the GPS directing them to a destination her friend knew nothing about.

After a while, Lana noticed Nate’s silence and glanced over, her brow furrowing slightly. “Is everything okay? You’ve been quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… got a lot on my mind,” she answered with a tight-lipped smile, the grip on her phone tightening.

Lana didn’t press, but Nate could feel the curiosity like it was its own presence, lingering in the backseat like an unwanted companion. They had been through a lot together, Lana and Nate, shared secrets, had each other’s backs through the chaos of each other’s lives… but this was different.

This was something Nate couldn’t fully explain, not yet.

As they neared the North Shore of Long Island, the neighbourhoods grew more exclusive, the houses larger and more secluded behind wrought iron gates and tall hedges. Nate’s anxiety kicked up a notch. She could see Lana attempting to steal glances at her GPS.

“Hey, uh, I need you to drop me off a little further down from where we’re headed,” Nate said suddenly, almost choking out the words as if her throat was unprepared for speech.

Lana blinked a couple of times, but nodded. “Sure… But, I have to ask, being a nosy bitch,” she huffed out a small laugh, “Where exactly are you going?”

Nate hesitated. “It’s… complicated. Just something I need to handle.”

Lana’s fingers drummed atop the steering wheel, simply nodding before her expression shifted to one of quiet understanding. “Okay. But promise me… If you are in danger, if anything happens, you call me or Rusev, and we will be there. No questions asked.”

There was always one word Nate could confidently use to describe the relationship she and Lana shared. Loyal. Lana did anything and everything to make sure Nate was okay, and if she needed anything, she wouldn’t hesitate to drop everything and be there. The same could easily be said for Nate.

“I appreciate that, Lana. Really. But I’ll be okay.”

“Da, you say that now, Natalka,” Lana muttered. “But seriously. Don’t do anything reckless. You know I’m always here.”

“I know you are,” Nate replied with the utmost sincerity, her eyes on the road ahead. “And so am I. Navsegda.”

It wasn’t even a few minutes before Lana pulled over near a small park, the destination still a little ways off on the GPS. Nate unbuckled her seatbelt, taking a deep breath as she prepared to get out of the car.

“Thank you, Lana,” she said, turning to meet her friend’s eyes. “For everything.”

Lana smiled, reaching out to hold onto Nate’s hand. “Just be safe, okay?”

Nate nodded, slipping out of the car and closing the door behind her. She watched as Lana’s car pulled away, the tail lights disappearing around a corner. Then, with a deep breath, she turned and began walking, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand, the GPS leading her in the right direction.

Each step felt heavier. She almost had to desensitise herself to the potential fallout if her father ever found out about where she was heading. And yet, underneath all that anxiety, there was a strange, almost exhilarating thrill just beneath her skin.

The unknown should have been daunting to her. But as always, the more daunting the unknown, the stronger the pull of it. She was just drawn to it—curious, intrigued, and maybe just a little… reckless.

And as the intimidating gates of Roman’s home came into view, Nate steeled herself, pushing down the last remnants of doubt. There was no turning back now.

She wasn’t even sure what felt real to her as she pulled out her burner phone and sent a quick text:

Nate: I’m outside.

The response came almost immediately, brief and to the point:

Roman: Wait there.

As she tucked the phone back inside her leather jacket, she scanned the perimeter. It shocked her how serene the neighbourhood was, given the kind of person that lived in it. It was… nice.

It wasn’t long before she saw movement on the other side of the gate; the imposing figure of the man that had sat and watched her at the gym—Solo, as Roman had called him. His unreadable features almost bothered Nate. Before Roman, she’d never encountered anybody she couldn’t read easily, apart from her father on occasion. And now, Solo was the addition to that list. Something told her the list wasn’t going to stop there.

The gates opened just enough for Solo to step out, his eyes locking onto Nate with a sharp, aggressive gaze. He didn’t say much, just a curt nod to acknowledge her presence. Nate, already feeling the anxiety starting to build again, didn’t bother with pleasantries. She was here on business, and so was he.

“Arms out,” Solo instructed, his voice low and gravelly.

Nate complied without hesitation, her heart beating a little faster as he began his security check. His movements were efficient, professional, hands sweeping over her clothes with a practised ease, searching for anything that could be a threat. She was clean, of course, but the process was still unnerving, especially under a scrutiny as intense as Solo’s.

When he was satisfied, he stepped back, giving her a brief nod. “You’re clear,” he said in a clipped tone. Then, with another silent gesture, he led her toward the gate.

As she followed him inside, the gate closing almost ominously behind them, Nate felt the air shift around her, as if she had just crossed an invisible line, stepping into a different world entirely.

Entering the home, her boots clicking softly against the polished wooden floors, the interior was every bit as imposing as she’d imagined—high ceilings, art that likely cost more than a small country’s GDP, and an atmosphere as thick as anything she’d ever experienced. But what struck her most wasn’t the grandeur, but the group of people standing just beyond the entryway, waiting for her.

Roman led the way, wide-set shoulders cutting a path with his family standing just behind him. The man Roman had referred to as “Wise Man” stood beside him, a calculating look in his eyes as he assessed Nate. The others stood a bit farther back, all of them in various states of wariness.

“Everyone, this is Natalka Volkov,” Roman swiftly introduced, not bothering with pleasantries, just the barest as if to remind everyone that this was still his territory, and this was to operate under his rules… his say so.

Nate’s face remained a mask of cool indifference, even though her heart was hammering in her chest. She could only give them a nod of acknowledgement, just like the one Solo had given her.

There was an awkward beat of silence before Roman continued. “Wise Man, you’ve already met Natalka. But everyone else—this is our guest for the evening.”

Jey’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Nate caught the flash of suspicion that crossed his face. He looked her up and down, his posture stiff, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t even bother to hide his scepticism.

“So, this the Volkov princess,” Jey said, his tone just on the edge of disrespect. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up here.”

“Roman thought it was important. I’m here to talk business.” Nate’s jaw tightened, but kept her voice as even as she could.

Jey’s eyes flicked to Roman, then back to Nate. “Yeah, but why with us? You got plenty of other places you could be.”

Nate met his stare head-on, refusing to be intimidated. Training paid off. “Because you’re the ones that seem to need me.”

Roman, sensing the building animosity, stepped in. “Jey, chill. She’s here because, like she said, we need her. A’ight?”

His cousin let out a huff but didn’t say anything further. His expression, though, made it clear he wasn’t convinced. But that didn’t stop his brother from chiming in.

“So, uh, we just lettin’ anyone in here now?”

“She’s not just anyone, Jimmy.” Roman glanced over at Jimmy, a warning in his eyes. “Don’t your ass know better than to question me in front of company, huh?”

“Company?” Jimmy shot back, clearly unimpressed. “More like trouble waitin’ to happen, Uce…”

Nate stiffened at his words. She wasn’t used to being the one under scrutiny, and it didn’t sit well with her. She wasn’t used to being seen as a liability; in her world, she was the one people feared. But here, she was the outsider.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” she said. “But I’m also not here to prove myself to you.”

Jimmy’s lips twisted into a smirk, but before he could retort, Roman stepped in once again, his voice commanding and final. “Enough. She’s here ‘cus I want her here. That’s all you need to know.”

Solo, standing off to the side, watched the exchange silently. It was clear he saw her as a potential threat, someone who could disrupt the delicate balance they had within The Bloodline.

Sami, who had been quietly observing the entire time, shifted uncomfortably. He knew what it was like to be the other, the one everyone was wary of. His sympathetic glance was the only sign of welcome Nate received, though it was hardly comforting.

“Nice to meet you,” Sami offered gently, though it was clear he was aware of how precarious the situation was.

Nate gave him a nod in return, appreciating the gesture even if it didn’t do much to ease the tension. The atmosphere in the entryway was fucking suffocating.

“Look,” Nate sighed. “I get it. You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t trust me. But I’m not here to cause problems, like I said. I’m here because there’s something bigger going on, and we need to figure out who’s behind it.”

“And why should we believe you’re not here just to spy on us for your old man?”

To Nate’s surprise, it was Roman that asked the question. Wasn’t he supposed to be her—well, the closest thing to an ally here? He was the one that brought her here!

There was a little smug smirk on his face as he noticed her apprehension, and that’s when she knew: he was testing her. Trying to gauge how she’d respond to such a question in front of everybody at once.

“Because,” she started, her eyes locked with Roman’s. “I’m not my father. And I’ve got just as much at stake as you do. My family’s caught up in this mess, too, and I’m trying to find answers. If that means working with you… then that’s what I’ll do.”

There was another pause. A small tug of Roman’s eyebrow showed his validation, still staring her down. But Tamina was the one to speak up.

“We’ve looked into the Volkovs,” she said to Roman. “She’s got the connections she says she does, and from what we’ve found, she’s not the type to be used as anyone’s pawn.”

Nate glanced at Tamina, accepting the neutral stance. It wasn’t an endorsement, but it wasn’t outright hostility either.

Roman nodded, then turned back to Nate. “You’ll need to earn their trust,” he said, his voice low, only meant for her. “But I know you’re capable of that, Princess.”

Once the group moved into the living room, Roman gestured for Nate to sit, taking his place at the head of the room. The others followed with palpable unease, especially as their leader began laying out the plan.

“Alright,” Roman started. “Here’s how it’s gonna go down. It’ll just be me and Natalka visiting Bunny.”

Jey immediately shot Roman a look. “You sure about that, Uce? Feels like you’re walkin’ into a trap.”

“We’re not goin’ in there to start a war. Just to ask questions. Show up with too many bodies, we’ll spook ‘em. It’s better this way.”

Tamina nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on Nate. “He’s right. Less chance of escalating things if it’s just the two of them.”

Despite the animosity, there was logic in Roman’s plan. Showing up with an army would only send the wrong message, one that could get them all killed before they got answers.

But still, Jey wasn’t convinced. “And what if things go south? You expect her to have your back?”

Roman’s gaze slid to Nate. “She’s capable. Besides, I got a feelin’ she can handle herself.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone absorbed Roman’s words. Nate met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them—a mutual understanding, perhaps, or maybe just an acknowledgement of the high stakes involved.

Sami, sensing the tension from the twins that flanked either side of him on the couch, cleared his throat. “If that’s what you think is best, Roman. But maybe… I don’t know, take someone as backup, just in case?”

Roman instantly shook his head. “No back up. It’s me and Natalka. That’s it.”

Paul had remained silent until now, as he usually did unless he was needed. And this seemed like a good time to input his opinion—which, really, just consisted of validating Roman. If he truly had an issue with Roman’s plans, he would have raised those concerns in private.

“This is a… delicate situation. You must understand, our Tribal Chief is doing what is best.”

“It’s so risky,” Tamina commented, folding her arms. “But it’s the best approach.”

Solo, standing over at the door like a sentinel, huffed. “If this shit goes south, we gotta be close.”

Roman, once again, declined the proposal, shaking his head. “We will be fine. This ain’t my first rodeo, shit…” He then looked over at Nate. “You good with this, right?”

Nate looked up at him, her instincts taking over. There it is again… that adrenaline. Oh, it felt good.

“Just don’t make me regret it,” she simply said, knowing the look in her eyes told him what he needed to know. She wanted to do this. Even if the rational voice at the back of her brain screamed at her that this was stupid. Because, hello Nate, Bunny knows who you are!

A ghost of a smile flickered across Roman’s face before moving toward a locked cabinet in the corner of the room. He pulled out a sleek handgun and handed it to her, the cold metal heavy in her hand. “Just in case.”

Nate nodded, looking down at the weapon as Roman instructed the others on what their role was during his absence. The gun was… pretty. She’d not seen one like it before. There were some kind of tribal patterns embossed around the barrel, and a watermark of some sort that made it unique. It was all black, but it was so carefully crafted. Beautiful.

Nate and Roman walked side by side as they exited his home, heading towards the row of SUVs parked perfectly down the side of the house. He instinctively reached for the door handle of the nearest one, but before he could open it, Nate’s hand shot out, grabbing onto his black hoodie to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait,” she said firmly.

Roman turned to her, eyebrows raised in surprise. It wasn’t often someone had the audacity to physically stop him from doing anything, let alone a woman who had only just formed a delicate alliance with him and would have taken great pleasure in seeing his lifeless body floating in the Hudson a month prior.

He glanced down at her hand on his arm, then back up to her face. “What’s up?”

She hesitated, her fingers twisting a little into the heavy fabric as if she was debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. But then, with a small exhale, she conceded. She’d already stopped him.

“My dad told me this morning that they’ve managed to, uh… tap all your SUVs.” She swallowed thickly. “He wanted to keep an eye on you, I guess.”

Even though she saw Roman’s face subtly twist in annoyance—the small twitch in his nose was a dead give away to her at this point—he nodded at her. “Tapped, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nate confirmed, finally releasing his arm. “If we take one of these, they’ll know exactly where we are. And trust me, you don’t want to deal with that shit.”

Roman assessed her for a moment, narrowing his eyes down at her. She could see flickers of… something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or maybe even a tiny hint of respect. “You really just gon’ give that up? Betray your old man like that?”

Nate blinked, realising what she’d done. She had betrayed her father, hadn’t she? But instead of dwelling on it, she shrugged, attempting to play it off. “It’s not for you,” she said defensively. “It’s for me. I’m not getting caught up in this mess because of a stupid tap on a car.”

His lips tugged up into an amused smile. “Sure, Princess. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Nate rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice in it. More… irritation. “Do you have another car or not?”

Roman chuckled softly and nodded towards a less conspicuous vehicle parked off to the side—a dark sedan that blended into the shadows. “That one’ll do just fine.”

They made their way over, Roman unlocking the car with a press of a button. He opened the driver’s side door and slid in, while Nate took the passenger seat, the door closing with a solid thunk. The interior was luxurious but understated, nothing flashy that would draw attention. Perfect for what they were about to do.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Nate got out her phone, opening up the GPS to enter the location Roman had given her earlier. It wasn’t the address linked to Bunny’s compound, the one she had visited with Dimitri, but just a little out of the way. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Not too far,” Roman replied, his eyes on the road. “There’s a spot where we can watch Bunny’s place without being seen. See what we’re dealin’ with before stepping on their turf.”

Nate nodded, focusing on the directions. The drive was relatively quiet at first, the tension between them not entirely uncomfortable but certainly palpable. It wasn’t until they were a few miles out that Roman broke the silence.

“You don’t sound like him, y’know.”

Nate glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your old man,” Roman clarified casually, yet curious. “You don’t talk like him. You sound… different.”

She stifled a chuckle, a small, almost wistful sound. “That’s because I didn’t grow up in Russia… I was born there, but we moved to the UK when I was around two. Spent most of my childhood there before we moved to Florida in… ‘07.”

“Florida, huh? Small world.”

Nate eyed him for a second before understanding what he meant. “Oh, yeah,” she muttered under her breath. “I think I remember reading something about you being from Florida,” she nonchalantly commented, chewing her lip in thought. “But yeah, that’s why I don’t sound like my dad. If anything, I sound more like my mum.”

Roman held back on poking fun at her pronunciation, unlike their encounter at the gym, but he did huff a little. “You were close to her?” he asked.

She paused, squinting her eyes as she thought of her mother once again that day, and the revelation that The Bloodline had been watching them long enough to have seen the change in their family. But now… this wasn’t the right time to bring that up. It was a miracle she was even sitting in a car with Roman Reigns without someone aiming a gun at the other.

“...Yeah,” was the only thing that she could muster at that moment.

He sensed he hit a nerve. A weakness. But for once, exploitation wasn’t on his mind. I mean, she’s already helping me, I don’t need to use that right now…

“It’s different, isn’t it?” Nate asked. “Florida, that is,” she glanced at him. “It’s got its own vibe.”

“Definitely,” Roman agreed, carrying a nugget of nostalgia in the way he exhaled. “Still home for me. My family’s down there, most of ‘em anyway. But here’s where the action is. The business. Can’t stay away for too long.”

Nate smirked. “Seems like you’ve got the best of both worlds.”

Roman stared off into the road stretching in front of him, licking his lips as hesitation lingered on them. “Could say that, yeah…” he mumbled.

Nate watched him for a few moments, something else clearly sparking his memory. Almost a small glimmer of… what’s that, adoration? Pride? He had something, or someone, back in Florida that triggered an onslaught of mixed emotions. And she could see it; as plain as the nose on his face.

They fell into a somewhat comfortable silence after that, the city’s skyline passing by in a blur as they drove. When they finally reached the vantage point Roman had mentioned, he parked the car in a secluded spot, where they had a clear view of Bunny’s warehouse without being seen.

They sat there for a moment, both of them scanning the area, taking in the number of guards, the layout of the building, the vehicles coming and going. It was clear that Bunny’s operations were running smoothly.

“Give it fifteen, then we move,” Roman instructed, shifting in his seat and straightening his posture. Resting his arm on the small ledge the window provided, running his hand over his beard. “How long were you in Florida?”

Also getting herself into a more relaxed position, Nate focused her attention on the sights below. “About six years… moved here to be closer to business. Dad bought more properties, made alliances based here, so we moved with that.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

She almost scoffed, shaking her head. “Nah, I’m kinda used to the back and forth. But I’ll give it to my dad, we’ve managed to stay in the same place for nine years now. Though, that might just be because of–” she cut herself off, never liking to physically utter the words.

“‘Cus of what?” Roman looked at her.

“S-Something that happened,” she shrugged, leaning forward in her seat to dial in her attention on the warehouse.

“Whatever you say, Princess…” Roman muttered.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Nate huffed.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“Princess?”

“Yeah,” she whipped her head round to look at him. “Do I look like I have a fucking crown on my head?”

He practically beamed at her cold switch. “‘Cus that’s what your ass is, sweetheart. Like Jey said… you the Volkov princess.”

She almost cringed at the phrase. “Okay, if I’m gonna work with you, I’m gonna need none of you cunts to call me that again. Call me Natalka—you know what, don’t even call me that. You sound too much like my dad.”

“So, what am I supposed to call you? Fuckin’ Brenda?”

“Nate! Call me Nate, alright? Jesus…” she groaned, returning her gaze in front of her.

“Nate…” Roman tested the name on his tongue. It rang, it sounded alright. Sure, why not use it? Comply with Princess’ wishes. “Your ass needs to calm down…”

“Sorry, are we not sat watching the very people who most likely fucked us both over? Both our families? Excuse me if I’m a little wired right now,” she snapped.

He didn’t say anything further, just embraced the jolt of satisfaction it brought him to piss her off like he had.

The two of them continued to watch over Bunny’s compound like predators stalking prey. The tension in the car remained thick, but it wasn’t entirely the only mission on Roman’s mind right now. Instead, especially after her little outburst, he found his eyes drifting toward Nate.

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her thighs as she carefully scanned the area. The way she moved, the way her body held tension and focus, it was something that captured Roman since the conversation they had behind the Apple store.

But here, for the first time, he allowed himself to really look at her.

Her jawline caught the fading sunlight, accentuating her cool, composed facade. His gaze moved to the curve of her neck, noticing the tattoo planted just behind her ear, down to the subtle rise of her collarbone. The way she sat revealed a hint of her chest, the swell of her breasts just visible in the low-cut neckline. He travelled lower, taking in the shape of her thighs as they pressed together, plush-looking and toned all at the same time.

She was all angles and curves, a balance of strength and femininity that drew him in, even as he fought against it.

Roman wasn’t one to lose focus easily, but something about… her was different. There was a rawness, a primal allure that he hadn’t expected. And it wasn’t just her physicality; it was the way she carried herself, the confidence that radiated from her even when she was still.

For a moment, he found himself wondering what she was like when she wasn’t guarded, when she wasn’t watching the world with those sharp, calculating, golden eyes. He imagined, shamelessly, her clothes gone, her skin warm under his hands, her body beneath his—a fleeting thought that he quickly pushed away, though it left a heat in his chest that wasn’t easy to dismiss.

But Nate wasn’t oblivious to the attention. She felt his focus shift, the intensity of it impossible to ignore. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes meeting his with a knowing smirk.

“You know, you’re supposed to be watching the compound,” she murmured lowly, teasingly.

Roman didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving her an almost imperceptible smile. “Just makin’ sure I didn’t miss anything.”

Nate arched an eyebrow, the playful glint in her eyes unmistakable. “And did you?”

Roman’s smile widened, but he didn’t answer, choosing instead to let the silence speak for itself. Nate chuckled softly, shaking her head as she turned back to the compound.

“Anyway,” she sighed, taking on a more assertive tone. “It seems alright for us to head down now.” She made the call, pushing open the passenger side door and slipping out of the sedan, but not before she turned and bent down, looking straight at Roman once again.

“And remember to keep your eyes on the prize, gospodin vozhd’ plemeni.”

The adrenaline had laid dormant until now; as they made their way down toward the compound, it rose, slowly at first, then with increasing intensity as they neared the entrance. Nate felt it—the quickening of her pulse, sharpened senses. Body prepared for whatever was to unfold. It was a feeling she knew well, and welcomed with open arms each time it paid a visit.

Slightly ahead of her, Roman himself struggled to contain the rush simmering beneath the surface. He remained physically relaxed, his stride easy, but there was an underlying edge to him now—a controlled power just waiting to be unleashed.

He was a man used to command, used to bending the world to his will, and he wore that authority like a second skin.

They were noticed immediately, of course. Bunny’s men, scattered around the compound, straightened as the two newcomers approached, with sharp scrutiny and rigid stances. The territorial aggression reeked.

“Who the fuck are you?” one of the men demanded gravelly, narrowing his eyes as he took in Roman’s imposing figure and Nate’s assured demeanour. The man was tall, with a shaved head and tattoos snaking down his arms, along with all the telltale signs of someone who had spent most of his life in the business of intimidation.

“Relax, we’re not here to cause any trouble,” Roman said, hands slipping into his pockets as he came to a stop just a few feet from the group of men. “We just wanna talk to Bunny.” Calm arrogance infused his cadence, causing his words to translate as far more patronising than what they implied.

The men exchanged wary glances. “El señor conejito is not here right now,” another one of them said curtly. He was shorter, stockier, with a face that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of fights.

Nate stepped forward, joining Roman’s side. “Maybe you can help us out, then. We’re just looking for some information,” she added softly, looking to hone her skills she garnered from years of using her femininity as a pawn for her father.

However, Bunny’s men didn’t soften, not like she initially had hoped. If anything, they just grew more suspicious, their eyes flicking between Nate and Roman with barely concealed hostility.

The smirk on Roman’s face faltered, replaced by a harder edge—patience wearing thin. “We’re lookin’ for answers about a job at a particular warehouse,” he clarified. “And we wanna know if Bunny still had issues with Damian Priest.”

There was one man in particular who seemed to have taken up the role as leader in his leader’s absence, folding his arms across his chest and standing his ground. “We don’t know anything about that, amigo.”

“I ain’t in the mood to be bullshitted, amigo,” Roman retorted. Another step closer was taken, and he was towering over the man, suffocating him with his otherworldly presence. “No games. You wanna tell me if y’all recently came into possession of a large shipment of… heavy weaponry? While we at it, why don’t I ask if you added another name to the list of successful hits, huh?”

Roman left no room for doubt; his questions were rhetorical, thick with implied threats. The men bristled, hands twitching toward their weapons. The interaction was teetering into irredeemable territory.

But before anyone could make another move, the roar of an engine cut through the strain like a thunderclap. A vehicle, dark and nondescript, sped into the compound, tires screeching as it barreled toward them. The sound of gunfire erupted, the sharp crack of AK-47s ripping through the air.

Chaos engulfed them.

Bunny’s men barely had time to react before bullets began to tear through their ranks. Bodies crumpled to the ground, blood spraying across the dirt, the ether thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the screams of the dying.

“Shit!” Nate gasped, instinctively reaching for the handgun Roman had given her, that she had tucked away in her waistband. She ducked behind a nearby stack of crates, her pulse hammering in her ears, the adrenaline now well and truly flooding her veins like fire.

Roman was beside her in an instant, his own weapon drawn as he caught the eye of one of Bunny’s men staring daggers into him, accusation rife in his eyes. “This ain’t us!” Roman barked at him, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of gunfire. “We ain’t here to take you out, man!”

But there was no reasoning with them now. Bunny’s men were in full survival mode, their minds too clouded by the sudden onslaught to discern friend from foe. They fired wildly, their bullets indiscriminately hitting everything in sight.

Nate took a deep breath, braving the decision to peek out from behind the crates. The vehicle had come to a stop near the entrance, its occupants still firing relentlessly. The men were dressed in black, their faces obscured by masks. And then, with one more glance at the vehicle, Nate felt… stupid.

That fucking flag situated above the tail light…

Shit… Why didn’t I think of that?

Before she could think any further into it, she had to return fire—precise shots, each one finding its mark. The satisfaction of each hit sent a dark thrill through her—a reminder of the power she held in these moments, the control she exerted in the midst of such chaos.

But even as she revelled in the rush, she knew they needed to get out. This was a numbers game at this point, and a losing battle; the longer they stayed, the greater the risk.

And it seemed Roman was thinking the same thing. “We need to move!” he shouted over the noise, scanning the compound for an exit route. “Now!”

Nate nodded, gritting her teeth as she fired off another round. But as she moved to follow Roman, pain lanced through her leg—a sudden, sharp agony that nearly knocked her off her feet. She stumbled, her hand flying to her thigh, where blood was already soaking through her jeans.

“Shit,” she hissed, trying to keep the panic at bay as she realised she’d been hit. The epinephrine was still pumping, dulling the pain, but she knew it wouldn’t last. They needed to leave now, before it got any worse.

Roman noticed immediately, his eyes narrowing as he saw her falter. Without a word, he moved to her side, his arm slipping around her waist to support her weight. “Can you walk?” he asked breathlessly.

“I’ll manage—let’s just get out,” Nate bit out, forcing herself to focus through the pain. There was no time for weakness, no room for hesitation.

He shielded her the best he could from the hail of bullets that continued to rain down around them. The compound was a full blown death trap now, bodies littering the ground, blood pooling in the dirt. The sounds of gunfire and screams were deafening, a symphony of violence.

They reached the perimeter, where Roman’s sedan was parked—miraculously avoiding the worst of the carnage. He practically shoved Nate into the passenger seat, his face a mask of grim determination as he slid behind the wheel.

“Hold on,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, as he started the engine and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The car shot forward, tearing away from Bunny’s compound and onto the road with a screech of the tires.

Nate’s breath came in ragged gasps as she pressed her hand harder against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding as best she could. She could speak, couldn’t say anything. The pain was bad, but she could handle it.

What was harder to ignore, however, was the thrill that remained. The dark, intoxicating high that came with the close call, with the sheer unpredictability of what had just happened.

The car’s interior was now tainted with the scent of blood as Roman sped down the deserted roads, mingling with the leather. Roman’s eyes flicked toward her leg, where crimson had started to cover her hand as she continued to apply pressure. It was getting worse.

His jaw tightened as he tried to focus on the road, but the sight of her blood was pushing him over the edge.

“You’re bleeding too much,” he said in an almost accusatory tone.

“I’m fine,” Nate shot back with that infuriating stubbornness that was quickly becoming one of her defining traits.

Roman completely took his eyes off the road, narrowing them at her. “You’re ruining my damn car.”

Nate managed a breathy laugh. “Is that what you’re worried about? Your precious car?”

He didn’t answer immediately, momentarily dissecting his focus between the road and the rising frustration bubbling inside him. “I’m takin’ you to our safehouse in Red Hook. It’s closer than goin’ back to my place, and we need to wrap that up now.”

She straightened slightly, wincing as she shifted her leg. “I told you, I’ll hold out, it’s surface level.”

Roman clenched his teeth. He was on the edge, high from the incident mingling with his growing irritation, and she was testing him. “This isn’t a fuckin’ argument, Nate. You’re bleeding all over my car, and you’re gonna get patched up whether you like it or not.”

She shook her head, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat. “I can handle it. Just keep driving, for fuck’s sake.”

The car swerved slightly as Roman’s temper flared. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, a sharp, loud thus that reverberated through the car. “Damn it, stop being so fuckin’ stubborn!”

Nate’s eyes widened slightly at his outburst, not out of fear but more out of surprise. She knew Roman had a reputation for being overly composed in situations that called for the opposite, but whenever he did lose his cool, it was like a hurricane—sudden and destructive. Yet, it wasn’t the kind of outburst that scared her; it was the kind that finally shut her up.

She pressed her lips together, holding back the retort that sat on the tip of her tongue. She could tell from the tension in his shoulders, the clenched jaw, and the way his eyes kept darting back to her leg that Roman wasn’t going to budge on this.

“Fine,” she muttered with reluctant acceptance. “Take me to the stupid safehouse.”

Roman didn’t respond, but she saw the slight loosening of his grip on the steering wheel, a sign that her compliance had at least eased him somewhat. The car sped on, the streets of Brooklyn blurring past as they approached Red Hook, the industrial area shrouded in shadows and silence.

The safehouse was a nondescript building tucked away in a quiet corner, one that looked abandoned but was anything but. Roman pulled up to the entrance, his movements quick as he parked the car. He got out first, moving around to her side, and opened the door with a brisk motion.

“Come on,” he urged, voice still tinged with that earlier frustration, but there was something else there as well now—a hint of concern that he tried to mask with his general sternness.

Nate didn’t argue this time, biting back the pain as she swung her legs out of the car. Roman was at her side in an instant, his large hand gripping around her arm to steady her as she stood.

The walk to the door was a short one, but every step sent a fresh jolt through her leg. He kept a firm hold on her, practically half-carrying her into the building. The safehouse’s interior was sparse, utilitarian, but clean. There were a few pieces of furniture, a couch, a table, and the basic amenities needed to make it livable, but it was clear this place was meant for function, not comfort.

Roman guided her to the couch, easing her down onto it with a gentleness that actually put Nate on edge more than his dickhead demeanour she’d known from him this whole time. “Stay there,” he ordered as he disappeared into another room.

Nate breathed out shakily, pulling off her jacket before leaning back against the couch, hoping to alleviate some of the throbbing in her leg. It beat in tandem with her heart, each pulse sending new waves of discomfort up her spine. But it wasn’t… just the pain—it was the lingering sense of ecstasy that came with a shootout.

She felt so… wired.

Roman returned a moment later with a first-aid kit in hand and a no-nonsense crease in his brow. He’d let his hair down from the bun that had come loose during earlier altercations, and he’d stripped himself of his hoodie, revealing a snuggly-fitted t-shirt that showed just how toned he really was.

His eyes darkened as he looked at the wound on her leg, the blood-soaked denim clinging to her thigh. He knelt down beside her and sighed. “You’re gon’ have to take these off,” he said matter-of-factly, hoping that she wasn’t about to start rebelling… again.

Nate shot him a look, half incredulous, half defiant. “Fuck off.”

“Can’t do it properly with them on,” he replied, looking up at her with an unyielding intensity.

With a huff of resignation, Nate stood and moved to unbutton her jeans, her movements jerky and begrudging, her sole intention to piss him off. She pushed them down her hips, wincing slightly as the fabric pulled against the wound. All the while, she kept her eyes locked on his, challenging him even as she complied.

“Keep your eyes in your head, suka…” she grumbled, before continuing to herself, under her breath in a biting tone, “Podumayte tol’ko, ya mog by vse yeshche byt’ doma, naslazhdayas’ priyatnym vecherom, i ya zdes’.... S chertovym Roman Reigns. Ty idiot….”

Roman bit his tongue, honestly amused at her little tantrum, even though he had no fucking clue what she was saying. All he heard was his name. In that accent. He had Natalka Volkov, daughter of an intense adversary, in his safehouse, now in nothing but her shirt and underwear, the black lace peeking from underneath her v-neck stark against her subtly sun-kissed skin.

A position he never fathomed the two of them would ever be in.

But he didn’t rise to the bait, didn’t let himself react outwardly, but inside, there was a shift, a crack in his otherwise ironclad control. He focused on the task at hand after she removed her boots and sat on the edge of the couch.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, not bothering to sugarcoat it as he began to clean the wound.

Nate gritted her teeth, nodding silently, before hissing as the antiseptic touched her skin, the sting cutting through her like a sharp machete. But the rough pads of his fingertips were… surprisingly gentle as they worked.

Roman spoke, casually, though he was still breathing through short huffs, causing his voice to acquire a rasp. “You need to be more careful. Gettin’ shot ain’t a hobby.”

She let out a breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Could say the same to you… Don’t lie, we both live for this shit.”

He responded with a dark chuckle, narrowing his brows as he concentrated on getting the area as clean as possible before he started to wrap it up. She did notice his fingers lingering longer than necessary, tracing the edges of her wound with a care that bordered on… tender.

And then, out of nowhere, he broke the silence again.

“Tell me about your fiancé.”

Nate blinked. “What?” The word came out sharper than intended, but she was too frenzied to care. “How the hell do you know about that?”

Roman didn’t look up, but there was a slight curve to his lips, a knowing smirk that told her everything she needed to know. “I don’t need you to tell me. It’s the talk of the town.” He finally glanced up, his dark brown eyes meeting hers with a look that was both challenging and deeply amused.

Her heart, as cliché as it sounds, skipped a beat. It literally stumbled in her chest to the point where she thought she was about to throw it up. Whether it was from his proximity, how much closer he’d seemed to have gotten to her—how much further up her leg his hand had crept, or the information he just dropped, she couldn’t be sure. And she wasn’t sure why she began to talk, but the words started spilling out before she could stop them.

“Boris,” she muttered, her tone instinctively twisting into a mixture of disdain and resignation. “He’s—” She paused, biting down onto her lower lip as Roman’s fingers brushed higher up her thigh, lingering dangerously close to the hem of her shirt. “He’s a… convenient match for my dad, I guess. Solidifies alliances, keeps everything nice and… professional. Known him since we were kids, but my God, don’t I hate the twat…”

Roman hummed in response, his hands failing to cease their slow, deliberate movements. He couldn’t help it; the sight of her on his couch, flushed, in such a vulnerable position, made it difficult for him to shut out that naturally primal, inherently male, part of himself.

Every time he reached for something in the first aid kit, his fingers would trail down her leg, only to return with even more intent. The touch wasn’t lost on her—each brush of his skin against hers sending a wave of heat straight to her abdomen, threatening to inch lower into territory she knew she wouldn’t be able to come back from.

She continued, her voice growing quieter, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. “After Christmas, dad’s moving him in. I’m, uh, expected to share a fucking room with him, as well, so…”

Roman’s hands stilled for a moment, his eyes locking onto hers. “And you’re okay with that?”

Nate scoffed bitterly. “Don’t really have much of a choice, do I? It’s all about loyalty, right? Doing what’s expected.”

There was a long pause before Roman’s voice cut through again, this time with a different kind of rasp altogether. “Is that why you’re here with me?”

Oh, she fucking hated him with a passion. In fact, that question solidified the fact that she was sure she couldn’t hate him more. The fact that something alarmingly close to exhilaration bubbled up inside her. Fuck Roman Reigns.

A small, almost giddy smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it was just the way he was looking at her, as if he could see right through all the bullshit she’d been telling herself.

Roman’s fingers now, sneakily, crept under the hem of her shirt, tracing the edge of her panties. Feather-light, but oh so deliberate. He watched her closely, gauging her reaction as he spoke again. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Breakin’ the rules. Doin’ somethin’ different.”

Nate didn’t perceive his words as any less than a challenge. The heat from his hand caused her breathing to hitch in her throat. She knew this was so, so wrong. He was pushing closer toward a boundary they were both well aware should have been avoided.

But instead of pulling away, she found herself leaning into it, into him.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with having a little fun, Nate,” Roman continued in a smooth and coaxing tone. “You ain’t gotta be the perfect daughter here.”

She couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The adrenaline remained rampant in her veins, making everything sharper, more intense. The way he was looking at her, the way his hands moved—everything felt charged with a dangerous kind of energy that she wasn’t sure she even wanted to resist.

With a harsh swallow, Nate took a much-needed deep breath, narrowing her eyes down at Roman as his hand finally stopped at her waist, still under her shirt. “What the fuck are you doing, Reigns?” she asked him bluntly.

And with his usual cocky tone, he smirked. Smirked. “What do you think I’m doin’, Princess?”

She’d rather die than admit that confidence, the arrogance, made him even more alluring to her. But it didn’t stop her from giving him at least…something.

“You look good with your hair down.”

He grinned, licking his lips, clearly finding her comment amusing. He even laughed a little. What a rare sound.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she snapped. “I’m actually trying to be nice.”

But the smile only deepened, his fingers only squeezed a little firmer into her. “And what would you rather me do, Volkov?”

There was a pause. A long, tedious pause. Thickened with the tension of unspoken… desire. And finally, driven by the circumstances surrounding them, she broke.

“Fuck it,” she muttered under her breath, her resolve crumbling as she reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him up towards her. The move was bold, risky, but it felt worth it in the moment.

Their lips crashed together. Intense. Unrestrained. Fuelled by everything leading to this moment. The hatred. The shipment. Priest. Dimitri. Maria and Ava. Boris. Being ambushed. The adrenaline. Him. Her.

Roman responded immediately, his hand tightening on her waist, the other sliding up to the back of her head, where his fingers dug through her hair, pulling her closer as if it were well overdue. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, messily overpowering her with his harsh hold and his God-like stature.

Much to his satisfaction, she seemed to throw back exactly what he was giving her. She returned with a vicious snap of her teeth, the sting lingering on her own blurring every line of rationality she could have pulled from her subconscious.

Her fist clenched around his shirt, twisting the material around it until she heard the miniscule snap of thread. This prompted Roman to swiftly push himself up from the floor, momentarily breaking the kiss before he wrapped both of his bulky arms around her body, lifting her up with ease and guiding her back until she hit the arm of the couch. He was careful not to touch where he’d bandaged her thigh, hovering over her.

His eyes cast a threatening glare down at Nate, taking in the sight of her under him, breathless, burning a light red in the face. Lips parted, shirt crumpled up around her waist.

“Such a fucking mess,” he grumbled, glancing down at her hand that still had an unrelenting grip on his shirt. He wrapped his own hand around her smaller wrist, roughly ripping it away and pushing it down into the couch beside her head. Keeping it there. “You’re gonna ruin my shirt. First my car, now this?”

“Fuck you,” she bit with clenched teeth.

Once again, she watched as his nose twitched, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, causing his cheeks to hollow for a split second. “Awh, look how easy I can piss you off, Princess,” he chided, mocking her. Her arm wriggled under his grasp, but he wasn’t letting go. No way.

It should have bothered her how he touched her as if he had a right to. But… it really didn’t.

“Fuck. You,” she repeated, unable to utter anything more.

“What you gon’ do, Princess?” He kept using that name. “You gon’ hit me? Maybe you should. Maybe it would get rid of that bitchy attitude I keep hea—”

He was cut off by the swift, fiery movement of her free hand colliding with the side of his face. They just stared at each other, the only sound in the safehouse being the pair’s shallow, heavy breaths. Below, he awoke, the slap encouraging that familiar twitch.

Suddenly, his hand moved from her wrist to her throat, wrapping the expanse of it around her. He jerked her upwards so her upper body was lifted, his nose barely brushing the tip of hers, and his hair falling into makeshift curtains around their faces. He wanted to curse her out, wanted to stop this whole thing before he made even more decisions that could bite him in the ass down the line. But it was too late for that.

He needed her. Needed to be in her. Now.

Another heated kiss followed, thick tongue rolling past her lips and circling hers with a telling talent stemming from years of meticulous experience. She tugged a little at his beard, the sensations causing him to groan into her mouth and rut his hips downwards, desperate for some friction.

“Get on with it,” Nate mumbled against his lips as she felt his fingers dig into the sides of her throat. It sent jolts down to her arousal, the undeniable sensation of it heavy between her legs.

Roman didn’t need to be asked twice. He ripped away from her, pulling his shirt up and away from his body, exposing his defined frame and intricate tattoo over the right side of his chest, connecting over his shoulder and all the way down his arm.

He wasted very little time, gripping her hips and dragging her towards him, not bothering to remove her panties, only roughly tugging them to the side. He had her lower back propped up on his legs, causing her to open up to him in the lewdest of manners. She didn’t care. In fact, the cool air hitting the soaked folds of her cunt only heightened her arousal. Only made her want this more.

Roman let out a breath at the sight, keeping her panties hooked around his thumb as he collected saliva from his tongue onto the fingers of his free hand, lowering them to tentatively drag them over her wetness.

“Shit, you get this wet over a shootout, baby girl?” he hummed, pressing his thumb into her clit. She jolted a little, feeling her pearl throb under his rough fingers. This was anything but gentle, there was nothing sentimental about this interaction. It was sordid, demented, manic, erratic.

Exactly how she liked it.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” he tormented, wasting no time in slipping two tepid fingers down and into her tight entrance, smirking at the whimper that left her defiant lips. “Boris stupid ass better know how pretty his pussy is…”

“It is not his,” Nate managed to choke out, the slight stretch of his fingers reminding her of how long it had been since she last got to experience this.

“Of course not,” Roman hummed, leaning over her and looking her dead in the eyes. “This my pussy tonight, Princess.”

“O bozhe,” she exhaled, waiting with baited breath as he fumbled below, maintaining eye contact before she felt the hot, hard tip of his cock press against her dripping folds.

Roman neglected to tell her how much he secretly loved the Russian on her tongue, knowing there was a slim possibility she’d withhold it from him out of pure pettiness. He wanted her to speak to him in that fucking accent, wanted to hear her as she panted in a breathless slavic drawl. And that’s exactly what he’d get.

Nate’s hand shot up to Roman’s bicep, nails clawing into his skin as he finally, steadily began to push his way inside her. She wasn’t even upset that he’d not given her a longer warm up; the discomfort, the sting, the pull… Fuck, it hurt so good.

He watched her brows furrow and her eyes flutter shut, head falling back against the cushiony surface of the couch. And he could feel it in the way she gripped around his cock, just how intense it was to take someone as well-endowed... It hurt her. But the pulse of her walls, the moan that fell from her parted lips, the way she clung onto his arm in an attempt to pull him closer…

…The way her back arched…

She wanted anything, but for him to stop.

“Chert voz’mi, why are you so big…” she groaned under her breath as he started moving, strategically pulling away, just to thrust his hips back, filling her to the hilt. He grunted as his cock was sucked back into her heat, caressing him like a warm blanket.

“God’s gift, Princess,” he breathed out with a knowing smirk, moving to throw her uninjured leg over his shoulder, lowering his body over her and propping his hands above her head on the couch.

Her whole body jolted back and forth as he built up a rhythm, rolling his hips into her at a jarring pace. If it weren’t for the fact he was still wearing his black sweatpants, his thrusts would sound out as a backing track over the growing whimpers beneath him.

The hand that had been grabbing at his arm slid upwards, feeling a light layer of perspiration over his olive skin. She grabbed at the dampening length of his hair, right at the roots on the back of his neck, hoping to gain a little stability in his erratic movements.

“Fuck,” she gasped as the tip of his cock kissed the spongey surface of her cervix, her hips careening up towards his in a sloppy motion.

“That the spot, huh?” Roman whispered raspily, angling—folding—her body, allowing him to hit that spot deep inside her each time he rocked back into her. “Been a while for you, ain’t it?”

Up until now, she was sure the pleasure couldn’t get any more intense. But his voice… talking her through it… God, it did something to her. Something otherworldly.

Nate nodded quickly, her chest rising and falling rapidly and her mind fogging, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“I can tell,” he continued, threading his fingers through her hair and clenching his fist around it, making it easy to tug and pull as much as he pleased. “So fuckin’ tight on this dick… got Daddy feelin’ good.”

Jesus Christ…

“Fuck, I hate you so much,” Nate whined.

“Yeah? You hate me, Princess?” He tilted his head as he peered down at her, tongue dragging across his lower lip.

“Y-Yes… oh fuck, yes…” she stuttered, her grip on his hair tightening as he sped up, the reverberations in her chest making it difficult to say a word.

“This pussy don’t hate me,” he smugly commented, before pulling himself back up onto his knees to get a better look at his glistening dick sliding in and out of her. “See? She singin’ for me…”

She managed to glare at him, using the back of the sofa to help pull herself up onto his lap and bring her face to his. “Will you shut the fuck up and fuck me?”

His hand instantly slid around to her lower back, pulling her hips to move in tandem with his as he shifted his legs from under him, allowing her to properly straddle his hips. She took the hint and started to roll her hips at the pace she wanted, which didn’t differ much from his.

“Look how desperate you are, Princess…” he grinned, looking down at where her pussy swallowed him up, the sight annoyingly obstructed by her shirt. “Take this shit off,” he ordered, already pulling it up and off her body to reveal a bra that matched the delicacy of her panties.

Nate grabbed at his shoulders, his chest, his neck, his beard—anything to help with leverage as she started to bounce up and down on his cock, chasing a high that had been lingering since she arrived at Roman’s house earlier that day.

“Fuck,” Roman grunted, sending a harsh smack to the side of her ass and grabbing the curves of her body. The action made her yelp, followed by a throaty groan. “Oh, you like that?” he asked, before repeating the motion in the same place. This time, it sent spasms through her cunt, massaging him in all the right places. “Yeah, you like that shit, huh?” He was rambling on now, unable to stop himself from meeting her thrusts with his own.

Her hand wrapped around his chin, digging her nails into his face as she stared down at him. And it seemed the more pain she inflicted on him, he’d come back stronger. And so it ignited a back and forth of wills, who could get one over on the other. Soon enough, he had her throat snugly in his hand again, squeezing with exactly the right amount of pressure.

Her skin was raw, throbbing where he’d landed repeated slaps. And the more it stung, the closer she felt herself getting to her release.

“O-oh, fuck—I’m gonna cum,” she whispered, barely able to annunciate. “Shit, don’t stop, don’t stop…” she begged, holding onto his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her, pummelling his hips up into her, jarring her body in his hold.

“Yeah, you gon’ give Daddy that nut?”

“Da… chert, ya seychas konchu tak chertovski sil’no…” she brokenly whimpered, her lips pressed up against his forehead.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning in to press open mouth kisses to her neck, dragging his tongue over the marks he’d left from his death grip on her. “Riempiró questa figa perfetta, dolcezza…”

Finally, her movements became clumsy, inconsistent, and she tensed up everywhere. Her ears buzzed and her eyes squeezed shut as her climax smacked her in the face. She cried out loudly, scratched at Roman’s back as she gyrated and rode through the overwhelming level of euphoria.

“Goddamn, you cummin’ so hard,” he purred, a strained, guttural growl sounding from the back of his throat. He held her weight as she practically went limp on top of him, allowing him to enjoy her body long enough to unload inside her, fill her up and leave his mark. She felt his release seep out as he continued to milk himself of every last drop, ensuring he made the most out of Natalka Volkov’s body whilst he had it.

And squeezing her eyes shut, on the come down from such an eventful day, she promised herself that Roman Reigns wouldn’t have her body again.

But self-restraint was never her forte.

TRANSLATION: Gospodin vozhd’ plemeni - “Mr. Tribal Chief.” Podumayte tol’ko, ya mog by vse yeshche byt’ doma, naslazhdayas’ priyatnym vecherom, i ya zdes’.... S chertovym Roman Reigns. Ty idiot…. - “Just think, I could have still been at home, enjoying a nice evening, and I’m here… with fucking Roman Reigns. You idiot.” O bozhe - “Oh God.” Da… chert, ya seychas konchu tak chertovski sil’no… - “Yes… shit, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard.” Riempiró questa figa perfetta, dolcezza… - “I’m gonna fill this perfect pussy up, sweetheart.”

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anastasiareadsnwrites · 5 months ago

Note

Can we PLEASE have a second part to Portia Featherington x reader? I have to know where it leads???

Fancy Cherries Part II (Portia Featherington x Fem! Reader)

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Author's note: Hiya, you request and I'll write it. I'll write masterlists for those listed in the MAIN Masterlist. Bridgerton does currently have a masterlist, which may be updated now and then, and this was definitely not proofread.

Summary: Today is a new day for your work. Waking up early in the morning and waking up Lady Featherington later on in the day. But today was different. There was a ball that caught your attention. Something absurd. So, you sneak out to the ball. But a certain Lord keeps making moves on Portia and surely it was no problem.

Warning(s): Jealous reader, flirting, men getting touchy, mention of abuse, bad spouse(s), possessive behavior, rough kissing, drunk! Portia, more to be added

The MAIN Masterlist

Bridgerton Masterlist

Everything seemed to be going as planned today. You woke up feeling quite tired but nothing out of the ordinary. But today's schedule was nothing but cleaning and not trying to wake the lady of the house while you do.

Surely Mrs. Varely would usually wait until Lady Featherington wakes from her slumber but in this case Varely went out to buy a few things and you had no choice because not only was it your job but you needed to find something to do before any of the other maids start busying themselves with fresh gossip. Gossip that you refuse to be a part of.

Silently, you walked upstairs and grabbed a few cleaning products consisting of a bowl of water, rag, and a feather duster.

You remembered your first day working in the Featherington household when Lady Penelope was one of the first people up early in the morning reading her books in her room. You walked into the ladies' room only to find Portia still asleep. How she looked so peaceful and at ease while she slept.

With a sigh, you entered the rather dark room and noticed the sun that shone into the room from one of the cracked open curtains. Portia was on her side, but you could hear her soft sighs of sleep as she slept away the pains of the day before. Her hair flowed freely down onto the bed and over her shoulder. Her night gown was a nice green color, which you were sure brought out her blue eyes.

With a small smile, you closed the door behind you, gently making sure not to wake up the woman. One of the first times you woke up the woman was when Varely had stepped out from the household to take care of some business. She wouldn't tell you what, but it was around the time the new Lord Featherington had just come from America.

***

"My lady?" You gently knocked on the door to hear someone groan inside the room. Lately, you and Varely have been waking Lady Featherington up rather early because the new Lord had arrived a few nights ago. It was rather odd to be coming to this room and not the original chambers that you were used to. It wasn't far from Lord Featherington's chambers, but it was rather odd that he just barged into the house and announced to have Portia things removed from his chambers. But last night, Lady Featherington did have a little much to drink at one of the balls she attended.

"Come in." She said groggily.

Upon entering the room, you were met face to face with one of the most hottest scenes in the world. Others would say other words but this scene before you consisted of a lady sitting on her bed, her left hand rubbing her temples to relieve her headache but her nightgown was halfway up her thigh and the top of her ample bosom was full on display but her red fiery hair covered her shoulders to the skin to her bosom.

"My lady, I will be tending to you for the time being. Mrs. Varley has gone out to run a few errands." You bowed quickly almost enough to give you a headrush.

"I just need my clothes. I already took a bath." Portia mumbled as she yawned and covered her mouth as she did so.

"Yes, my lady." You bowed again going to her closet and grabbing out one of the few dresses that were hung up on a rack inside the brown box. You debated on which you would have the lady wear for the day. Your choices were the one that brought out her eyes greatly or the one that really brought out her bosom and other attributes.

Surely, you got to see her attributes more from what you could say, so her eyes it was. You turned noticing that the lady was still half asleep.

"Not a morning person? My lady?" You asked giving a hum as she snapped out of her daze.

"Certainly not and this headache is not helping either." Portia rubbed at her forehead where her bands were swept to the side. You never really saw how she looked early in the morning. But this was one way to be sure she looked like a goddess.

"I am sorry to hear." You gave her a smile and she whimpered. She whimpered. Now that certainly got your attention bringing a light blush to your cheeks. "Is there something wrong? Ma'am?" You tilted your head scanning her body still noticing that her nightgown has ridden up her plush milky thighs. How you wanted to leave markings on her thighs. To feel the soft flesh underneath your hands.

"I must've been on my feet all night at the ball. But I am sure I can endure it." Portia bit her lip and avoided your gaze. You slowly nodded noting that she never really looked at you when speaking. She always looked at Varely but never really gave you a good look.

You walked over to the bed laying down her corset, stockings, and her dress. Stockings were first, the corset was next, and lastly was her dress. Something you hope would take longer than usual. Slowly approaching the bed where Portia sat.

"My lady." You sighed as she stared up at you. Her doe eyes held great power when it came to something she wanted. You seen her use that to her advantage when there was a guest that visited unexpectedly. He madly speaking of cake. Which certainly caught you off guard.

But she used her feminine power to get rid of him.

"Do you need something else, ma'am?" You questioned, raising a brow at her. You could see the blush that rose to her cheeks.

Taking that as a win, you knelt in front of her and helped her with her stocking. As you let go of the lace that was a part of the stocking, it made a small smack sound as it rested against her thigh. You gave a smirk as she slightly huffed.

She stood up as did you, grabbing her corset. You noticed she was lifting her nightgown over her head. Gobsmacked at her soft pudgy belly. You could see the stretch marks from the past pregnancies of her daughters. You only knew what it felt like once, but the man that got you pregnant gave the child away. Sadly, enough.

"Stop ogling my marks." Portia sneered as she covered her breasts with her forearm, slightly cupping her breast. You gave her a smile and fitted her corset to her body. You wrapped it around her body, your fingers slightly grazing her skin, giving off a feathery touch, making her shiver, and letting out a soft gasp. You noticed there was a slight bruise forming on her rib cage, and you traced it slightly.

You knew what you were doing, and her reactions made you want to do it more. To make more sounds, not just gasps, but more precious sounds that come from her mouth. The sounds that nobody else could hear except you. You cleared your throat and started lacing the ribbon through the holes of the corset.

As you tightened the corset, she grunted. "Are you okay? My lady?" You asked, and she gave you a nod.

"The mark. Is the bruise is it from your corset?" You asked out of line. You didn't bother to address her by her title, and she was baffled.

"I-I uhm. Yes, perhaps."Portia inhaled and exhaled as she fixed her posture.

"My dress." Portia said as she looked anywhere but you. Giving her a polite smile, and you unzipped her dress, helping her stand into it. Taking her hand as she stepped into the dress as your other hand had found its place on her hip. She was stiff, and that didn't go unnoticed by you.

A soft knock was heard on the door when it opened to reveal Varely coming through the door. You gave a smile and bowed as you exited the room, noticing the breath of relief Portia gave when you exited.

***

"I should just make you my personal maid." Portia quirked a brow at you as you turned quickly meeting the blue eyes on the lady. You dropped a candle in the process.

"My apologies My lady. I tried to say quiet as possible." You gave her a quick curtsy.

"No need." Portia waved you off. "My lady, if I may but how was the pie?" You quirked your head to the side nibbling on your bottom lip. She blushed as she remembered the kiss that you gave her and soon she started shifting in her bed uncomfortably.

"Is something wrong?"

A soft knock was heard on the door and Varley entered the room and you gave her a bow and a gentle smile. You exited the room and gave a small smile to yourself. You knew you like and lusted after the lady when you fumbled over your words when you first started here. When you started your first day was a day before the Lord Featherington died.

It was desvating for his girls but for his wife, who seemed to actually be happy, but showed grief when she was around everyone. You caught her one time crying. Actually crying. Mrs. Varley was standing there soothing the woman.

You only caught the end of their conversation, which consisted of curse words toward the deceased and how he would just leave the girls with no dowries. It was devastating for her, and you wanted nothing more to comfort the woman.

"Psst, Y/n," you heard someone whisper almost harshly. You turned around to see one of the maids standing there in the entrance to the kitchen. What was her name again? Holli! You remembered.

You jogged over slightly wanting to know what she could be calling you for.

"Ms. Holli. Is there something wrong?" Questioning the lady, she was younger than you about a few years off.

"Yes and no? We just received an invitation from one of the Lords of the Ton. A ball invitation." She whispered as she looked around, making sure there was no one listening. You noticed the slight difference from her usual demeanor. She was the happiest person you ever knew, but right now, she was the complete opposite.

"Lord Richard?" You gave a defeated sigh. Lord Richard was a rather peculiar man than most of the Lords of the Ton. Most unsettling most of his maids has described as such. You only saw it once when he tried to make a move on Portia, but she dealt with it as she would usually do.

"But he came in person." She looked at you with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. Nothing ever made her cry, and this was practically the first time.

"He didn't hurt you, right?"

"No no...no. But he threatened me to work for him. Saying how my family will be at his mercy if I dont." She whimpered. You immediately pulled her in for a hug, comforting her as she silently cried into your chest.

"I will find a way for you to keep working here. No matter the consequence, " you huffed. You always saw Holli as a daughter and so forth. She had no parent or guardian to look after her. She, herself, was pretty new here. Working for the Featheringtons had it's perks but most of the time, it was just gossip within the maids.

You sighed as you lifted her face and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and the tears that leaked down her cheeks.

***

Time passes rather quickly when you're busy trying to scheme a few things here and there. You didn't know the time until you heard the horses in the front of the house and you couldn't help but be nosy.

The first thing you saw was the Featherington carriage. Portia was ready, looking elegant as ever as she got into the big painted box.

You sucked at your teeth as you watched as she took off. The creaks from the floorboard was what brought you out of your thoughts when the other person approached.

"I suggest you sneak in through the servant quarters at Lord Richmonds estate." Someone suggested behind you. You fidgeted with your fingers and finally turned to met their eyes.

"If I sneak out, will you cover for me? Varley?" You asked, a bit of hope could be found in your voice as you noticed Holli was right behind her. Who gave you an encouraging smile.

"I can only do so much to keep it ensured that you are working." Mrs. Varley gave a hearty laugh as waved her hand.

Holli, giddingly, walked up to you, taking your hands into hers - "Now, we just need your disguise, to assure no one will see you." Smiling, you laced your arm with hers and walked out of the room and toward the servants' quarters.

You both arrived giggling as Holli tried to find some clothes for you searching here and there, mismatching certain things and throwing it onto the bed.

"You are serious about me going?" You laughed, smiling as the younger women's eyes beamed at her matching outfit she had laid out onto the bed for you.

"Yes, very much so."

"Why?"

That stopped her in her tracks and she looked you dead in the eyes.

"Because you love her. Don't you?"

And there it was. Something you wanted to avoid. You told yourself over and over that the attraction you had for Portia Featherington was lust. Only wanting to get in her bed.

"I do not know." You fidgeted with your fingers.

"I see the way you look at her. I know and seen that look before. I am too, in love with a noble." She whispered as she suddenly found the floor interesting.

You smiled, lifting her chin to met your gaze. "Pray tell, whom this may be?" You gave her a teasing smile that made her blush and avert her eyes somewhere else.

"Lady....." She mumbled the last part of the name. Noticing you lifted your brow at her tactics.

"Lady Cecila" She muttered.

"You know I don't care who you love just as long as they love you back." You walked toward the bed, picking up the clothes and smiling. Holli really did have a sense of fashion. Maybe once you save enough money you would be able to get yourself and Holli out of here. She could even open her own shop across town.

"Now, help me, will you?" Holli gave you a tight lipped smile and quick nod.

***

You walked into the servants' entrance. You had a claok on as you lifted the hood off your head. Sighing in content as you made it into the house unnoticed.

Lord Richmond was one of the higher-ups in society. From what you know, he held a higher status than the two late Lord Featheringtons.

"My lady. I failed to collect your coat." A man smiled and bowed as you said, jumped from the unexpected person. "Yes, of course," the man soon took your coat, and there you were, wondering the ball in plain sight but still uncover.

Your eyes roamed the dance floor and the people that stood off to the sides, looking for the familiar blue eyes and red hair. "I believe an introduction is expected, my lady?" Someone to your left bowed to you, and it made you blush. The attention that ladies must receive at these balls.

"Lady Mary, sir," you bowed before the man, making up the name in the process.

"Ah, the name seems familiar, but I can not recall such a lady as admiring as you." He smirked. That smirk was very familiar with you. His hand reached out to touch tour hair only for you to move away from him and smiled.

"Lord Richmond, such flattery will get you nowhere." You felt the urge to roll your eyes at the man as he scoffed obvious that his flirting was going to get no where as he walked away to the next victim of his absurd flirting and unsettling smile.

You scanned the room once more, and there she was. Talking with another man. Portia didn't seem interested in whatever the man was going on and on about. Right behind her, you could Lady Cowper giving her a nasty look.

As you inched closer and closer, you could overhear the conversation that they were having. Noticing how Portia continuously poured the drink down her throat.

"So, I must say Lady Featherington, you are quite the catch this evening." He smiled and chuckled as she gave a fake smile.

"I must say Lord Mitchell. Doesn't your wife have an interesting dress this evening." Drawing his attention to the Lords wife other than herself.

"Well, not as interesting as you." That made your blood boil. You could see the uncomfortable shifting that she was doing and how she averted his eyes and drank more from the cup.

"If I may, I have a neogatation I want to clarify with you." He sipped his drink as he continued to stare down at her.

"Another time." Portia smiled. She started to walk away, giving a defeated sigh.

"I see your deceased husband still has a hold of your heart even after he used to beat you" the Lord raised his brow and muttered the rest of the words in his cup, making sure no one else heard but the lady.

You turned your back once you saw Portia stop in her tracks.

That smile was one that you could've been falling to your knees for if you were both home but not today, not this evening.

"No." She turned to the man and gave him a smile, turning again when she was satisfied with his facial expression and walking off toward the entrance. She's been here longer than you, so you thought she was retiring.

So, you walked after her, picking up your dress as you did so. As you neared the entrance you were face to face with Portia, who raised a perfectly plucked brow at you.

"So, now you stalk?"

"No, My Lady. I was only worried about your safety." You bowed and looked up at her, noticing her dilated pupils.

"I see. Well I suggest we take the carriage home, yes? It would be mean of me to let you walk." She said as she started to fidget with her fingers.

"Thank you, my lady."

The carriage arrived on cue, and you bowed once more to her, and she gave a tight-lipped smile.

"That color is rather winning on you." She complimented you, causing you to blush. "As well as you, my lady," you gave reassuring smile to her. you could tell by her flushed cheeks that also held a pink color to it that she was drunk.

So drunk that she may not remember this tomorrow or perhaps she will. Who knows. But you were itching to ask her about her husband for long about how he was like. It never crossed your mind that her ex-husband was a man of violence.

"My lady, if I may, but what was your husband like?" Asking even though it was a sore topic to the woman.

You could see her posture stiff at the mention of her husband, and she almost looked around frantic. She cleared her throat and looked at you.

"Most of the Ton knows that my husband was a gambling man, but inside closed doors, he was brutal. " There is was again, Portia was fidgeting with her fingers.

You grabbed her hands out of sympathy and slight irritation, not at her but at her deceased husband.

Who could hurt such a woman?

"He used to beat you, yes?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, and you saw her lips quiver. She opened her mouth once and twice, only to close it and retract her hands, causing a pain in your chest.

"I shouldn't be feeling like this for you." She whimpered.

You furrowed your brows as you looked at her.

"Feel what?" You questioned and she looked out the carriage window.

You caressed her cheek and turned her face e to make her look at you. Her eyes met yours, and for once, you saw the vulnerable side of the lady. Her eyes filled up unshed tears.

"Feel what? My lady?" You asked again.

"To feel like I should be by your side at all times, to feel this ache in my chest as if my heart were to explode whenever we are alone together." Portias brows knitted together.

But to your disappointment, you didn't know if you felt the same. You lusted after the woman but didn't know if you actually loved her.

The silence in the carriage was loud and unsettling.

"I'm sorry, forget everything I said." Portia whispered.

You didn't want to hear it, so you leaned forward, quickly inserting yourself into her personal space.

Your breath was felt against her lips, and she couldn't help but think of the ways you could've been using your mouth.

"I do not know if I can return your feelings" you stated as you stared at her lips.

A tear escaped from her eyes, running down her cheeks. A pain shoot through your chest as it did so. It hurt so much to see her so vulnerable but then you just rejected her.

Her own breathing slowed and quickened as you pressed your lips to hera in such a quick and needy kiss. Your tongue ran over her plump red she obliged by opening her mouth to give you more access to deepen the kiss.

It was needy and desperate for touch the both of you craved but you couldn't help but see the lady hurt sitting there. So, you kissed her.

And damn did she smell of cherries and flowers and something snapped in you. Never will anyone else touch the woman at your very mercy. No one would be able to pleasure her or reduce her to such a state she was in before you. You wanted. No. NEEDED Portia Featherington.

#portia featherington #bridgerton #fanfic #polly walker #portia featherington x reader #x female reader #x reader #Portia Featherington x Y/n #Portia Featheringron x you #kissing

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spicerackofblorbos · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 3: January

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! I'm so proud of myself for getting this out before the end of January hehe. I hope you enjoy!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.5k

January, you thought, had to be one of the most depressing months out of the twelve. It’s cold, dreary, and full of post-holiday blues. The gloom that came with those blues was only intensified by the immediate and prominent holiday of “Remembrance Day”, a cultural holiday created to celebrate and mourn those who have long passed.

‘I don’t know why we can’t just stay home and celebrate privately like we usually do. It might be crowded.’ You sign outwardly to your sister as she drives, making sure to go slow so she can see through intermittent glances. You stare out ahead as the snowy landscape zooms past. The late afternoon sun glints off the fresh snow, blinding you as the light refracts off the crystals.

When you were younger, this annual holiday was something you used to ignore. Even at a young age, you were aware of the situation you were forced into. You lost everything and then were thrust right into the foster care system, tossed in with families who didn’t want you. You had to do it all alone and because of that, you never learned how to grieve properly. It wasn’t until Hange’s family, your family, took you in that you were taught how to deal with your past and the residual effects that came with it.

Hange tuts at you as they turn a sharp corner.

“Hey, you’re the one who said you’d be okay with it this year. And besides, maybe this town is full of early morning mourners. The temple could be all ours.” They speculate aloud, wiggling their eyebrows at you. It just prompts a signature eyeroll, and you stare back out the window. The residential homes turn into office buildings as the two of you make it closer to the designated temple in town. It’s not much longer until they turn down a gravel road, pebbles and snow crunching under the heavy wheels.

Busy is an understatement. Due to the small nature of the town, only one temple exists, and it sits in the middle of the local cemetery. When your sister pulls into a dirt parking lot, you notice the multitude of cars already vacant of people who are milling around the grounds. A bubble of anxiety threatens to rise in you, but you swallow it down. You and Hange step out of the car and are met with a brisk wind; It makes all the air in your lungs escape from shock. When you take deep breaths to calm your heart down, puffs of hot steam billow out from your mouth. Hange locks the car behind them and turns to you with their hand out.

“Well, c’mon, my little berry. Those votives aren’t going to light themselves.”

You take her hand without hesitation and you both set forth up the hill. You are at a loss for words because of how stunning your surroundings are. Leafless trees remain stoic and strong under a layer of snow. They pepper around the ample lot, giving off shadows of tree branches everywhere. Up a dirt path rests a sizable temple with a dark blue exterior and a wrapping porch around the building that offer various access points to the inside. On the edges of the dirt path lie smaller stone paths leading to rows and columns of personal gravesites for the residents of Jinae. The winter sun beams down between fluffy clouds, warming up the air as the day goes on. It was melancholic in a way that fit the day of Remembrance perfectly.

Fortunately for you, most of the crowd was at their family stones, so the trek up to the temple took little to no time at all. This is where the designated altar is set for those who wish to pay their respects but had no tombstone to do so at. It’s the first time since your teen years that you've prayed outside of your home. When the Zoë’s took you in, they explained many of the traditions to you that you were in the dark about due to your lackluster upbringing. Remembrance Day was one of those and on paper it sounded great, until they took you out to the temple the following January and you had flipped out from the candles. You were a little better about it nowadays, but you requested shrines at home with electronic votives from then on.

After stepping through the open doorway, you note only a handful of people lingering at the altar, lighting green candles and bowing their heads in prayer. You avert your gaze quickly from the bright flames, looking anywhere else. It was relatively quiet, bar for a few whispers here and there. You and Hange step in line behind an older couple, who are now turning towards you to leave. Tears streak down their faces as they head in the direction of the doors behind you. You bow to them in respect, as they do to you in return. The two of you step up onto the ledge and Hange takes the match sticks from the table. She gingerly holds out a stick for you to take as she regards you carefully.

“Did you want to try it this year?” They grab your hand with theirs, looking into your eyes closely.

You take a deep breath and raise your hand as if to take it, but it falters. Something sears in the back of your mind. Letting your hand flop to the side, you shake your head and sigh heavily. She just gives you a soft smile and squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“That’s okay, Love. I’ll take care of it for you. Just close your eyes and think of them.”

So, you do and reminisce about your lost family. There were so many memories you were still unable to recover from all those years ago. So, you opt to think of your parents' soft smiles and gentle hugs. Of an older brother that you think had a mischievous grin. You focus on the overall warmth you associated with them, feeling that warmth curl into your toes. You hear your sister strike the match and then she blows it out just as quickly. You were never saddened by these thoughts, even in your younger years. Hange often wondered if this was due to a detachment of your own making. You open your eyes after a moment and flinch back from the sight of the votive right in front you, flames flickering.

“Let’s get going.” Hange hadn’t let go of your hand this whole time and she uses that to pull you away quickly out of the side door. Even though it’s cold, you feel miles better outside and you let loose a breath as if you had held it in the whole time. You wonder when you’ll be able to withstand being so close to fire again; you think maybe you never will. A sudden flash of black hair whipping around the corner of the temple catches your eye and you whip your head around to stare at the now empty space.

“Is something wrong?” Hange squeezes your hand again, and you turn back to look at them to shake your head ‘no’. Some part of you hope it was him. You haven’t seen Levi since the whole debacle at the gala last month. He never made any attempt to reach out to you. Truthfully, you didn’t expect that from him anyways, but it irritated you to no end at the time. Your sister had pushed you to go to the café at least once to just say ‘hi’ because they could see how much it bothered you, however you refused to budge.

“Then let’s go sight-seeing. I want to see how the people of Jinae celebrate their loved ones before heading out.” The two of you head back down the hill, the cold wind biting at your nose. At some point, Hange turns down a nearly empty path. The stones ahead were covered with a wide assortment of flowers in various colors. People had also put offerings of their loved one's favorite foods out at the base of the stones. It makes you smile at how loved these people are even past their time.

Hange leads you around for half an hour, taking in the sights of the different offerings and gifts laid about. She points and grins as she mumbles things to you, but you’re not really paying her ramblings any mind. You find that nodding in response was enough to get them to turn back around and jaunt off somewhere else. Another fifteen minutes later, and their rumbling stomach is so loud you can’t help but laugh. You now realize why she’s staring so heavily at a plate of cold dumplings left on a headstone. You reach for her shirt and tug on it to get her attention.

“What’s up?” They twirl around on you with worry.

‘Want to go get some dinner?’

“We probably should, shouldn’t we. Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in all of these displays!” She points to one right next to you. It’s littered with quite a few child’s drawings taped to the stone. A plate of cookies sat at the base of it with a steaming cup of coffee right next to it. The family must have just been here. When you look back up to meet Hange’s gaze, she’s staring at something behind you with an amused expression.

You turn to see what she’s gawking at, and you spot a familiar raven-haired man. He’s standing next to a not-so-familiar messy blonde-haired man around the same age that is currently kneeling on the ground as he places a plate of something on the stone in front of him. The one standing darts his eyes in your direction and there’s no mistaking it; It’s Levi. Panicking, you whirl your head back around to face Hange and she’s smirking. You attempt to step forward to pass your sister, but she just grips your arm firmly and starts tugging you in Levi’s direction.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

You try your best to wiggle out of the grip but it’s of no use, she’s latched on to you. After a few more futile attempts, you give up with a huge huff. You don’t even turn around, you just let them drag you along.

“Levi, what a pleasant surprise!” Hange yells out to him as they close the distance, you still in tow.

When they stop abruptly, you almost bump into them. You avert your gaze as far away as possible and turn around slowly. A family of four passes by in silence on the path next to you, a little girl with pigtails flings around a stuffed rabbit as she trots along.

“Tch, I don’t see how this is a surprise, Four-Eyes. The whole town is practically here.” You hear Levi’s gruff voice respond back. It makes your stomach flutter with anxiety, but you’re not sure if it’s a good or bad kind of anxiety. There’s a ringing silence that follows after, but you can’t be brought to look up. That is, until someone clears their throat.

“Uh, hi! I’m Furlan, Levi’s friend! It’s nice to meet you...?” He trails off. The voice is boyish and playful, and very different from the man next to him. You glance up to the source and the dirty-blonde haired man is looking between your sister and you with gray eyes. Not as deep and metallic as Levi’s though, they were much softer and lighter.

“Hi! I’m Hange Zoë, and this is my sister!” She lets go of you to throw her arms around you as she squishes your face with hers. You feel warmth creep through your whole body from embarrassment and it makes you want to run away. “She’s hearing but she’s mute and speaks through sign language mainly. I’ll translate for you for the sake of brevity, though. Unless you already know it?” Your sister releases you to meet Furlan’s outstretched hand with hers and shakes it vigorously. The man laughs, and it’s a light airy sound.

“I don't unfortunately. But it’s nice to meet you both!” He waves to you with a wide grin, and you give a small wave back. Furlan continues, “I see you know Levi.” You chance a look at Levi and he’s staring straight at you. Your eyes shoot back to his friend.

“Well, ‘know’ is an understatement. He’s not very forthcoming about his life unlike his roommate. Uh, Erwin and I became close after a very unfortunate relationship mishap.” Your sister chuckles at her dark joke.

“Ah! I thought I recognized your name! Erwin mentions you in passing a lot. And, well, that’s Levi for you. I had a hard time getting to know him when we first met.”

“You idiots know I’m here, right? And that’s because you were trying to beat me up, asshole.” Levi’s terse tone cuts in, shooting daggers at his friend. Furlan just laughs again, loudly, and raises his hands in defense. Hange nudges you gently with her elbow and you glare at her, but the look in her eyes makes you nervous.

Winking at you, she grabs her phone and yells, “Oh jeez, hold on a second. Someone from the lab is calling, it must be about last night's reports.” and starts to walk away. You hold on to her hand for dear life with your mouth wide open in protest, but she pulls away with a flourish. “I’ll just be a moment!” And then she’s gone.

You stare down at your empty hand and then back up to the two men in front of you, pressing your lips into a thin line as you clench your jaw. ‘Fuck.’ you think to yourself. Tapping your foot impatiently, you also fold your arms across your chest. You keep your gaze averted from them, but you still feel Levi’s stare aimed directly at you. Finally, Furlan clears his throat again.

“Did you two kill each other’s cats or something? Jeez.” Levi clicks his tongue at the same time as you roll your eyes.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to think.” Levi retorts dryly. A heavy huff escapes your mouth as you fiddle with your jacket sleeve, foot tapping even faster. Another silence. Furlan examines your face closely and looks back at Levi in thought. If you were looking at him, you would have noticed a lightbulb go off in his head.

“Wait wait wait! Is this the girl you were talking about a while back?” That makes your eyes fly to Furlan’s and you can’t keep the shock from filling your face. He talked about me?

Without even waiting for an answer, he states, “So I heard you like colors.” You feel a blush start to seep up into your cheeks and you look away again, shrugging. Levi kicks Furlan in the shins and he doesn’t even react in pain.

“Wow, it’s super nice to meet you then. This guy would not stop talking about you aft-” Levi kicks Furlan in his other shin and it must have hurt this time because he winces.

“Furlan, shut up.” Levi scolds.

“Is that an order?” Furlan smirks as he leans down to rub the now sore spot.

You’re not even listening to their bickering; your mind was going a million miles a minute. Levi had talked about you to other people. Were they good or bad things? And why did he have to mention your issues with picking a favorite color? You chide yourself for being willingly open about such silly things with Levi after just meeting him. You reach for your phone so you can say something but then are cut off by Hange coming up from behind you noisily.

“Sorry about that! What are we talking about?” Hange rests her chin on your shoulder and stares at the two friends.

“It’s nothing, we were just about to go.” Levi replies coolly as he starts to turn away to leave. He must still be mad at you, you think. Irritation itches at your skull again, but something in your heart aches.

“Wait! ‘We’? Where’s Erwin? It’s weird to see you without him, Levi.”

“Oh, he’s currently back at their apartment cooking dinner for us. He came out to show his respects early this morning.” Furlan cuts in before Levi can say anything.

“Sounds great, we’re in.” You stare at your sister in horror before shoving your hands in their face.

‘No, we’re not!’

“Oh uh, I don’t know if Erwin...” Furlan trails off as Hange just chuckles and waves her hand dismissively. Then she pulls out her phone to check something before shoving it right back into her coat pocket.

“Erwin doesn’t mind, he said so.”

‘We are not going!’ You’re practically flinging your hands at her face, but she just gives you her puppy-dog stare.

“But I’m so hungry! And he’s fine with it. Plus, a homecooked meal! It’s so much better than fast food!” Hange whines.

‘I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.’ Her face pouts even more, which you didn’t think was even possible. ‘You’re the worst. Fine!’ You stick your tongue out at her as you stomp your foot for good measure and her whole face lights up in response.

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” Levi shoots back, eyes narrowed at the two of you.

“Oh, c’mon Levi. Miche’s already going and Erwin said it’s fine. The more the merrier.” Furlan grabs Levi’s arm to keep him from leaving. Your sister whips her head to stare at Furlan in surprise.

“Miche’s going?! What the hell, and Erwin didn’t even invite me!?” She yells.

“Tch, fine, do whatever you want. I don’t care. Furlan, we have one more stop, let’s go.” Levi stomps off in the opposite direction, leaving the atmosphere 10 degrees colder.

“We’ll meet you there. We have one more grave to look at but then we’ll be on our way.” Furlan nods to the two of you and gives you a warm smile before darting off after Levi. You exhale a big breath and round on Hange, not even sure what to say. There’s a mischievous glimmer to her eye and you regret leaving the house at all.

When Levi and Furlan are out of earshot, Furlan knocks his shoulders in Levi’s and smirks.

“Isabel would have liked her, don’t you think?”

Levi says nothing back, but he can’t help but agree. It’s been 10 years, but his chest still tightens at the thought of Isabel. He pulls out the bag that had sat tucked into his jacket pocket, holding the slice of vanilla cake he made for his fallen friend.

Erwin and Levi’s apartment is immaculate. Years of cleaning after Hange had given you the confidence to say you were a tidy person. But after seeing their apartment, you felt like an amateur at best. Even the air felt fresh, albeit it was filled with the smells of cooking dishes. Light tones filled the whole room, broken by the occasional pop of color. There was plenty of white as well, so you know Levi had a lot to say when it came to decorating the place.

“Wow Erwin, your place is so clean!” Hange mutters as she pads around the whole living room. Erwin and his friend Miche were both in the kitchen working over separate pots. Miche was a very strange man, much stranger than Levi for sure. The second you stepped into the apartment, he took a huge whiff of you and grunted. Hange and Erwin chuckled and reassured you that it was normal, but you were still freaked out. If Miche had a problem with your smell, he didn’t say so.

“You can thank Levi for that, mostly. He likes to clean.” Erwin calls out. You knew that of course, thinking back to that fateful night at the bar.

You decided to make yourself at home, curling up at the end of their 3-person couch. Pinks and oranges begin to filter into the room as the sun starts to set. You stare out of their balcony door that overlooks part of the downtown area. They were so close to their café, and you wonder if they had chosen the café location just because of that.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me tonight, Erwin!” Hange whines as she leans over the island to see what Erwin was working on. He swats at her to back up and she does so with her glasses fogged up from the steam.

“I already told you. I invited you a couple weeks ago, but it seems to me you weren’t listening to me then. I think you were going off about some lab report that frustrated you.”

“Oh yeah. Okay that’s totally fair and on me. You should have reminded me at least!”

Miche comes over to you with a small plate of some raw vegetables for you to snack on. You take it while smiling at him gratefully, and he just nods before heading back into the kitchen. He had already known you weren’t verbal before you walked in the door, you guess Erwin had told him. Apparently Miche and Erwin were friends for a long time before Levi came into the picture. Just by watching them in the kitchen, you can tell that they worked very well together without having to say a word.

After gingerly placing your empty plate down on the coffee table in front of you, you stand, stretching your limbs with a big yawn. If you sat for any longer on that soft sofa, you figured you might fall asleep. So, you shuffle your way towards the kitchen, making sure to pick up your plate as you do. Miche takes it from you without saying a word and you wonder if he had a hard time speaking growing up or if it was a conscious decision not to say much. Regardless, you sign a quick thanks then turn to Erwin, who was in the process of mincing some sort of herb.

‘Where is your bathroom?’

“Down the hall, it’s the door at the very end.” He slaps Hange’s hand as she’s reaching for a dinner roll over the counter. You smack her in the head on your way past and she just blows a raspberry at you.

You take your time going down the hallway because your eyes are distracted by various photographs framed on the walls. There weren’t any family photos of either of the two, but plenty of random friends throughout the years. There were a couple of Erwin when he was younger, maybe in grade school, with a few friends hanging around him. You think you spot a young Miche with him in one of the photos.

That must mean they’ve been good friends for more than 15 or so years. There’s another picture frame of Erwin and Levi in graduation gowns holding up diplomas, college you think. Erwin has a huge grin showing off his pearly whites and his arm is propped up, leaning on a short-statured Levi. Levi’s not even looking at the camera, electing to look off to the side with a scowl stuck to his face. That checks out, you think to yourself.

You look closely at the one at the very end of the hallway and you notice it’s another photo of Levi. It’s a picture of him and two other people, Furlan being one of them. They’re all pretty young looking in this, but the girl in the middle who had her arms wrapped around the other two looked even younger. She has the brightest, widest green eyes you’ve ever seen. Her red hair is choppy and pulled into low pigtails and a large grin plasters her face. Furlan’s to her left, and he’s looking over to the other two contentedly. Levi is on her right and he’s looking away like he always does, but an actual small smile seemed to pull at the corners of his lips. You also note that this was before whatever accident fell upon him as his scars were missing. They look very happy.

“That’s our friend, Isabel.” Someone mutters softly next to you. You squeak as you jump back, punching into the space where the voice came from. Something catches your fist before it makes an impact. Turning, you see it’s Furlan, holding up your fist in his hand. Panicking, you pull your arm back out of his grip and step back. He stifles a laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just needed to use the bathroom but saw you standing here staring at the wall.” Furlan rubs the back of his neck and glances up at the picture, a wistful smile appearing on his face. Wording a voiceless apology with your lips, you back up into the wall so he can scoot past you to the bathroom. He thanks you before slipping into the room and clicking the door behind him. You take a deep breath and head back to the kitchen, your trip to the bathroom forgotten.

When you emerge from the hallway, the sounds of clinking glasses and heavy plates can be heard from the dining room. Not really sure where to sit, you go to stand by the table as Erwin and Hange set it. Miche comes over to place a bowl of the dinner rolls that your sister was eyeballing earlier, and he points to one of the chairs against the wall for you. Again, he seemingly knew what you were thinking. At this point, you’re convinced that he knows how to read minds.

You plop yourself down as your sister does the same next to you. She starts pouring wine into the glasses around the table, save for your own; she hands you a soda can and you bump her shoulder with a smile. Furlan comes back from the bathroom just as Erwin and Miche take their seats. Steaming plates of delicious foods consisting of a spiced chicken dish, baked asparagus, smashed potatoes, and sweet carrots lay around just waiting to be served.

‘You really know how to serve a feast.’ You sign to Erwin with a wide smile.

“Well, it’s not all just me. Miche makes a great sous chef.” He jokes.

“Hey, where’d the grump run off to?” Hange inquires as they take a sip of their white wine.

“The grump is right here, tch.” a voice cuts in.

Glancing up, you see Levi drying his head with a towel as he makes his way to the table, water droplets falling from his hair down onto the gray long sleeve he had on. After folding the wet towel and placing it on a table behind the couch, he pulls the chair out across from you and sits down with a small huff. You both lock eyes for a second before looking away.

“What are we waiting for? I’m dying over here!” Hange starts plating up without waiting for a response. She starts to help you too, but you just grab the serving utensils from her hands and huff at her. She playfully slaps your arm but starts digging in. Erwin had thrown on some background music before sitting down, so soft jazz reverberated off the walls mixing in with the bustle of plates being filled.

“So, Hange, what do you do?” Furlan pipes up after a few minutes, tearing a roll up with his fingers.

“I work at Titan Labs, head researcher and what not. I’m working on ways to create zombies!” She cackles and takes another spoonful of her potatoes. The look on Furlan’s face was priceless and he stared at Levi and Erwin for confirmation.

“They’re just kidding, Furlan. They work with curing viruses, at least that’s what I’m told. Hange you can’t just go around saying stuff like that.” Erwin scolds and Hange just grins.

“Oh uh. Okay. I guess that’s a little better.”

‘My sister can be a little overzealous and crazy sometimes.’ You sign to Furlan and Hange just grabs her heart dramatically.

“Pft, I’m not that crazy.” That's all she says before diving back into her chicken, paying the rest of you no mind.

“There’s nothing wrong with crazy. Just try not to get us killed, okay?” He laughs a little and winks at you. Feeling your face flush, you let your eyes roam over to Levi’s. His gaze flickers to yours briefly, but he just takes a swig of his wine and peers out the window. The evening sky was clear, and the stars had started to come out.

The rest of the meal was filled with mindless chatter that you observed happily. Erwin and Miche had roped Hange into some sort of debate, so them translating for you was a little difficult. Luckily, Furlan understood and was fine being the only one talking as Levi just ate in silence. You listen intently but your mind wandered to Levi occasionally, wondering what he was thinking as he delicately cut into his food. Furlan got to a point where he picked up on asking you yes or no questions for the sake of the language barrier and lack of interpreter. It was hard not to smile at his warmth, and you’re open to all of his questions easily. The flush on your face does not disappear the whole meal.

With stuffed bellies and sleepy minds, everyone decides to leave the table and move into the living room to wind down. All except for Furlan, who had said he had an early shift the next morning and needed to leave before he ended up staying all night. Hange, Erwin, and Miche were murmuring together with intermittent laughs about something random. Levi just sat in a chair in the corner of the room scrolling on his phone and not paying any attention to his surroundings. That left you to juggle between staring at the TV and checking your phone every once in a while.

A couple moments later, there’s a scratch of a chair against the floor as Levi gets up from his spot. He slips out of the balcony door with a blast of cold air before closing it shut behind him. You can see his puffs of hot air as he stands, leaning against the rail with his back to you.

As you’re staring, you feel someone tap your shoulder and when you turn to see the source of it, you’re surprised to find its Erwin. Crystal blue eyes stare back at you and then they flicker over to where Levi stood. He says nothing else and sits back down in his spot like nothing happened. Hange gives you a supportive wink and goes back to her conversation with the two men.

Ugh.

You stand up and pull on your jacket that you had slung over the backside of the couch hours ago. Zipping it up, you take a deep breath before sliding the door open and forcing yourself into the cold. Levi does nothing to acknowledge you, he just stands stoically looking up at the stars. You tighten your jacket around you and stand awkwardly behind him, shifting from one foot to the other as you consider what to say.

As you feel the winter air nipping at your skin, you exhale softly and pull your phone out to type out a message. It takes you a few minutes of typing and deleting repeatedly, but Levi says and does nothing as he waits, hearing the clicks of the letters coming out of the speakers.

‘I’m sorry. For exploding on you last month. I threw my anger at you when really, I was angry at myself. It wasn’t nice or warranted and I apologize.’ You shuffle up next to him and hand him your phone carefully. He takes it from your cold hands, his own brushing against yours and they’re surprisingly warm. You see his eyes slide over the words, face bright from the phone light in contrast with the dark night.

He rolls his silver eyes and just scoffs. He doesn’t say anything, and you fidget with your phone. When it was clear he had nothing to say, you fight the urge to turn around and leave. You glance behind you and see Erwin and Miche doing a bad job pretending not to stare at you and Levi. Hange, on the other hand, gives you a big smile and a thumbs up. You swallow hard and type out another message.

‘Are you mad at me still?’

“Still?” He stares up at you in confusion then slight guilt. “I- look, I was never mad at you. It’s just...” He runs his fingers through his hair to push it back, and you spot a few piercings climbing up his ear that you didn’t notice before. They glint off the full moon which sits high in the sky. He takes a deep breath and looks away from you.

“Okay, I was a little mad at first. But I’m clearly not anymore.” He mumbles.

‘Clearly.’

“I know I can come off rude and cold but it’s just... Shit!” He grips the rail so hard that his knuckles turn white. “I’m not mad at you, and I haven’t been for a couple weeks. I just- I felt awkward after the whole thing and I didn’t know how to talk to you. Plus, you know, I thought you were mad at me. So. You have nothing to apologize for. And, here,” he grabs your phone that you loosely held and starts moving around apps, pressing random buttons as he goes.

Then he hands it back to you with a side eye, opting to stare back out to the moon as he spoke. “I don’t want to throw your phone off the balcony so from here on out, just directly text me and I’ll respond.”

When you look down at your phone, your mouth opens slightly in awe. Your phone screen displays a newly made contact page for “Levi Ackerman”. So formal, you think. Clicking the message icon, you type out a little text to him with shaky hands. You’re not sure if it’s from the excitement or the cold.

'Hi'

You hear his phone ‘ping’ and he pulls it out of his back pocket.

“We’re great with words, aren’t we.” he says with a smile playing on his lips.

‘I’m glad you’re not mad at me. I’m still sorry for last month though.’

“It’s fine, but thanks anyways.”

Like a breath of fresh air, a comfortable silence falls on the two of you. You lean forward against the rail and stare down to the ground. Levi and Erwin’s apartment rests on the third floor so there was quite a drop. The yellow glow of streetlights reflected off the snow that was piled on the sides of the road. You shiver as a gust of wind blows through your hair, so you pull your hood up for extra warmth. Against your better judgement, you shoot him another text with something that’s been itching at you all night.

‘Who’s Isabel?’ You watch him carefully.

When he eyes the text, the small upturn to his lips disappears and he freezes for a moment. His hand grips his phone a little tighter as he sighs heavily. Exhausted. The circles under his eyes seemingly darker. He hangs his head down, giving you another side-eye between his raven locks as he starts speaking in almost a whisper.

“She was one of my best friends. Well, Furlan and I’s. We all, uh, grew up together.” Levi swallows hard.

‘What happened?’

His body tenses up once more and you worry for a moment that he might get defensive, but he just grips the rail tightly in both hands again.

“I used to ride motorcycles. I suppose you wouldn’t know that.” You shake your head at him, and he just purses his lips. “Yeah... well. Isabel had this annoying habit of wanting to go everywhere with us but she wouldn’t get her own license so she would ride on the back of Furlan and I’s bikes...” He shifts uncomfortably and leans forward over the rail, looking down at the ground.

“Well one day, my uh, relative, was having complications at the hospital in town and I needed to get there fast. And of course, she wanted to tag along. I didn’t have time to fight with her, so I let her on with me. But...” You reach out to try and touch his arm in reassurance, but Levi jumps at the close proximity, and you pull back quickly. Mouthing a ‘sorry’, you shove your hands in your pockets.

“You’re... fine. It’s fine.” He pushes off from the rail and folds his arms across his chest and stands up straight. “It was raining that day, and I was being careless. I was so caught up in where I was going, I didn’t take the time to be cautious of my surroundings. I don’t remember much but we ended up skidding off the road. I woke up in the hospital with this,” Levi raises the hand that was missing his index and middle finger and then he points to his scars. “And no Isabel.”

You have no words. Even if you weren’t mute, you wouldn’t know what to say to him. You notice in the time that you’ve known him, you haven’t seen him ride before, nor have you even seen a bike in his vicinity. So that alone was a surprise. But another thought scratched at you. Something about his demeanor right now screamed guilt. Did he still blame himself for Isabel’s death?

“I went to go celebrate her today with Furlan. She always had a thing for sweets.” He mumbles, looking a little more relaxed. He has a faraway look in his eyes.

‘What was she like?’ His eyes shift to yours, now soft.

“You remind me a lot of her, actually. Stubborn. Happy.” Levi huffs, but you could have sworn it was a little laugh.

‘You’re pretty stubborn yourself, you know.’ He just rolls his eyes again at you but says nothing else. ‘I think it’s great that you’re celebrating her life. She sounds wonderful. Thank you for sharing that with me.’ You offer him a slight smile and his lips twitch at you in return. He puts one of his hands in his pocket, making sure to keep his phone out with the other as he spoke.

“Who were you and Hange celebrating today? I saw you two at the temple earlier.”

‘Are you creeping on us or something?’ You smirk at him teasingly and his already rosy cheeks turn a darker shade.

“Tch, no. I just passed by, is all.”

‘It’s okay Levi, I get it. We’re that fascinating lol. She was there for her grandparents.’ You fidget with your phone in between numb fingers. It was really starting to get cold, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to stay out on the patio. But you didn’t want to leave just yet.

“So, you’re not celebrating anyone today?” His innocent question makes you pause. It was your turn to look away, staring at the twinkling stars above. You suddenly feel small, like the universe was too big for you. Biting your bottom lip, you start to type away.

‘Yeah, I have. I lost my parents and brother when I was around six or so. I don’t remember much but there was a big fire, and I was the only survivor. I am not a big fan of fire now.’ Silence ensues for a few minutes as Levi digests what you texted him. Your hands mindlessly trace the scars that trailed up your left arm from that disastrous night.

“I’m really sorry to hear about that.” He says, finally.

‘Oh, it’s fine now. It was so long ago. Hange’s family took me in after 8 years in the foster system, and now I’m stuck with her.’ You give him a meek grin and point behind you. He’s watching your face carefully.

“I’m sure there are worse families to be stuck with.” Levi jokes quietly.

You have no idea, you think to yourself. The thought of the households you lived in prior to the Zoë’s makes you cringe a bit. Memories of being left behind, small cupboard-like rooms, and physically abusive foster parents swirl through your brain. You close your eyes tightly to try and push them away. You feel something warm holding your fidgeting hands still. Opening your eyes to see what it is, you’re met with Levi’s pale hands cupping yours into his own.

“It’s been a very hard day for us, huh?” You don’t want to tell Levi that it’s not your family’s passing that’s upsetting you right now. You figure if it came up later, you would tell him then. You nod once, meeting his silver eyes with earnest. He releases his grip abruptly, your hand freezing from where he had left it. Another comfortable silence falls on the two of you and it warms you from the inside out. Knowing that he wasn’t actually mad at you filled you with immense relief and you were glad that the confrontation was over. Or so you thought.

“So Furlan huh?” He playfully chides. You stare at him, incredulous.

“What? He just seemed really into you. Do you feel the same?” There was a look in his eyes that confused you. You feel your face heat as you tap away at your phone screen.

‘He was just being nice. I don’t know what you mean. There’s no way he could be interested in me.’ You watch his face anxiously, not certain why he was bringing up such a topic. You didn’t really feel comfortable talking about other boys with him just yet, whether it be because you still barely knew Levi or something else you couldn’t quite describe.

“Tch, you don’t know.” He cocks an eyebrow at you but says nothing else. You just shake your head at him, at a loss for words of what to say next.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the sliding door and peeking through is a Hange with a wide grin.

“Are you ready to go home, my little berry?” Their muffled voice penetrates through the glass pane. You give them a thumbs up and a small smile. They give you a thumbs up in return then spin around to Erwin and Miche who are now standing up, going back into a conversation. You glance back at Levi and find his dark eyes gazing at you. The moonlight hit his entire figure at an angle that made him look almost... otherworldly.

A couple hours later, you’re lying on your side in your bed with fluffy sheets surrounding you. The clock reads late but you can’t sleep due to the giddiness from the buzzing of your phone. You stare at a message notification sent by one Levi Ackerman, and a smile playing on your lips.

Thanks for confiding in me. I don’t mind learning more about you, if you want.

You had received the message a good 5 minutes ago, but you weren’t sure how to respond. For starters, you were extremely shocked to see that he was still awake at such an absurd time. But then again, so were you. You start typing but then delete it right after, going back and forth until finally you give up and just voice what you wanted to say.

Sufficient with your response, you lock your phone and place it on the bedside table. You stare hard at the table, willing for something to come your way but nothing does. Maybe he fell asleep, you wonder. After a few minutes, you start to drift off with the thoughts of a curt man with silver, glowing eyes.

Levi can’t help but chuckle at the three dots in the corner of his phone as you start typing but then change your mind. It had taken him forever to find what he wanted to say to you, but he never imagined your response to something seemingly so simple now could take you so long. In truth, he was surprised to see you open the message so quickly and at such a late time. Perhaps you struggled to sleep as well.

As he waited, he couldn’t help but wonder what to make of you. There was something so intriguing about you that he just couldn’t quite reach, and honestly it confused him even more. Something else bothered him as well as he recalled the haunted look in your eye after talking about your history. Were you holding something back?

Finally, his phone pings and he scolds himself for how swift he was to pick it up. A simple message brings butterflies to his stomach and unknits his tight eyebrows. Whatever it was that you had kept to yourself, he figures it didn’t matter. He would make it his goal to try and get to know you better.

Ask away, I’m here for you. Goodnight, Levi.

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