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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 14 hours ago

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"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

WHAT YALL THINK?? 1-10?? ALSO COMMENT DOWN BELOW TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY

#yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batman #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne #yandere x reader #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere harvey dent #yandere slade wilson #platonic yandere batman #yandere jason todd x reader

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slaytheusurper · 2 days ago

Text

⭑ Rybas ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry anon for how long it took! (Like a month oops-) Still, I hope you like it ;)

Request: Yes

Pairing: Jealous!Aemond x Betrothed!Niece!Reader

Warnings: +18 MDNI, NSFW, very very possesive Aemy, toxic, reader riling Aemond up, argument mentioned, weak ass Baratheon, making out, tongue fucking ig? , oral (f receiving), p in v penetration, public sex (sort of iykyk) and orgasm denial oh and creampie duh

Summary: Due to an argument that ocurred between you and your betrothed before the feast, he chooses to ignore you. There is only one way to make his attention turn back to you.

Translation title: "Obey"

The air in the Red Keep was thick with the scent of roasted meats, honeyed wine, and the perfume of noble ladies, mingling together in a way that should have been enticing but only served to suffocate you. The hall was alive with music and laughter, the glow of thousands of candles reflecting off the golden plates and polished goblets. Your betrothal feast was in full swing, and yet, despite the grandeur of it all, you felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

Seated at the high table beside your intended, your uncle Aemond, you barely acknowledged the festivities. Your chin rested on your palm as your fingers drummed idly against the surface of the table. Across from you, King Viserys sat, looking pleased and weary in equal measure, while Queen Alicent kept a watchful eye on her son. Helaena, ever the dreamer, seemed lost in her own world, speaking softly to herself as she toyed with her goblet.

Aemond’s presence beside you was a cold, steely weight. Normally, his intensity made you shiver with something close to pleasure, but tonight, after your earlier argument, it only frustrated you. His silence was deliberate, his long fingers curled around his goblet, his sharp jaw tense. He was ignoring you, punishing you for your defiance.

You had always been headstrong, never one to be controlled easily. The idea that you were to belong to Aemond, that you were to be his wife- made your blood hum with a mixture of excitement and irritation. You could respect him, even admire him in some ways, but you would not be tamed like a dog. That was the source of your earlier disagreement, a whispered but heated exchange in the gardens before the feast.

“You will not behave like some common girl, smiling at any man who looks your way,” he had said through clenched teeth, his fingers firm around your wrist.

“And you will not dictate who I may speak to, Aemond,” you had countered, lifting your chin in defiance.

He had said nothing after that, only releasing your wrist and stepping back, his single eye burning with irritation. Now, he barely acknowledged you, sipping his wine as if you were not sitting right beside him.

Fine, if that was how he wished to play it.

With a deliberate movement, you rose from your seat, the scrape of your chair against the stone floor drawing glances from those seated nearby. You felt Aemond’s eye snap to you, but you refused to look at him. Instead, you lifted your skirts and descended from the royal table into the waves of nobles below.

The air was livelier away from the high table, filled with laughter and conversation. Lords and ladies alike bowed or curtsied as you passed, offering their well-wishes and compliments on your upcoming wedding. You accepted them with polite smiles, though your mind was already set on a particular course of action.

It did not take long to find a suitable distraction. Lord Borros Baratheon’s younger brother, Ser Lyonel, was standing near the wine casks, speaking with a few other knights. He was broad-shouldered and handsome, with an easy smile and a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. A known flirt, he was precisely the type of man who would set Aemond’s already short temper alight.

You approached with an air of confidence, letting your lips curve into a charming smile. “Ser Lyonel,” you greeted, tilting your head. “Are the Baratheons enjoying the feast?”

He turned to you with a grin, giving a bow that was just deep enough to be respectful. “My lady,” he said, voice smooth. “We are indeed. But I must admit, the feast has grown far more interesting now.”

You laughed softly, placing a hand lightly on his arm as if joking. “You flatter me, Ser. But tell me, is Storm’s End as grand as they say?”

He launched into an enthusiastic retelling of his estate’s grandeur, and though you were only half-listening, you nodded along, laughing at the right moments, leaning in just enough to give the impression of intimacy. Aemond’s eyes burned into you from the high table, but you did not look his way.

Minutes passed, and the tension in the air grew heavier. It was only when Ser Lyonel reached for your hand, brushing his fingers over yours in a teasing gesture, that you heard it.

A chair scraping back, too harshly, too abruptly. The sound of boots striking against stone with measured purpose.

Aemond was coming.

You felt it before you saw him, the sheer force of his presence cutting through the crowd like a blade. The nobles around you quieted as he approached, his movements slow, controlled- dangerous. His sapphire eye gleamed in the dim light, his face a mask of fury.

Ser Lyonel, sensing the shift in atmosphere, straightened but did not step away from you. An idiotic move. Aemond stopped beside you, his hand clamping around your wrist in a grip that was firm, possessive. “I believe you have entertained my betrothed long enough,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.

Ser Lyonel had the good sense to hesitate, glancing between the two of you. “Of course, my prince,” he said smoothly, though there was a hint of nervousness beneath his facade. “I meant no offense.”

“You would do well to remember that,” Aemond replied, his fingers tightening ever so slightly before he pulled you away.

You barely had time to protest before he led you through the crowd, his grip never loosening, his pace determined. He did not stop until you were away from prying eyes, in a shadowed alcove beyond the grand hall.

“Aemond-” You tried to speak.

The words barely left your lips before he had you pressed against the cold stone wall, his body caging yours in. His breath was uneven, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you.

“You dare,” he seethed, his eye flashing with fury. “You dare to make a mockery of me in front of the entire court?”

You swallowed, but met his gaze with defiance. “Perhaps if you had not ignored me all evening, I would not have sought better company.” You snapped back.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with slow deliberation, he lifted a hand, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your chin upward.

“You belong to me,” he murmured, the words both a promise and a threat. “And I do not share.”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to look away. “Then do not give me reason to stray.”

His lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl. “Oh, my sweet niece,” he whispered, pressing closer, his breath hot against your skin. “I will make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

And with that, he claimed your lips in a searing kiss, one that left no room for argument, no space for defiance- only possession. His tongue forced itself between your lips, his hands now moving to your waist. His fury and desire for you drove him to the brink of insanity.

Aemond pulled you close against his body, his tongue dancing with yours in a heated exchange. You felt how hard you made him, his erection pressing against your stomach- and oh did it drive you further. Biting harder on his bottom lip, you drew slight blood from him, he groaned in response and the metallic taste swirled in both your mouths.

A moan escaped your lips as Aemond grinded his clothed length against you, already he was desperate for friction. Clearly he had no patience left for your attitude- he need to fuck it out of you. It wasn’t the first time he had taken you, and certainly not the last.

Who could blame him for deflowering his niece before their wedding? Especially with your fluttering lashes and devious eyes, he couldn’t help it. You felt Aemond’s rough hands turn you around at your waist, the stone wall meeting your soft, heated cheek as he pressed you against it.

The cold air hit your ever exposing skin as your soon to be husband hiked up the skirt of your dress. Helping him, you held up the bunched up fabric. You could hear him slicking up his fingers with his spit before he rubbed them through your already wet folds.

He was furious and unforgiving- but not cruel. Even though he was more than ready to take you, he knew you always needed some preparation first. When he heard your mewls growing he dove in while spreading your thighs. His tongue entered your hole, drawing louder moans from you.

Your one hand held up your skirt while the other moved to Aemond’s head, begging him to come closer, to feed on your cunt. The sinful noise of Aemonds tongue lapping at your clit while sometimes tongue fucking your hole filled the empty dark space.

If someone were to walk by, they would have a first row seat to the most vile show they had ever seen. But your betrothed felt how your walls tightend, your breaths coming out in short pants. Aemond knew you were close, he wasn’t going to let you off that easily.

He pulled back, lips and chin covered in your slick and he heard how you whined, he did not care. His hands moved to unbutton the lower buttons of his doublet before he undid the laces of his leather pants, his cock was straining against the fabric and he could no longer wait to ruin you.

Yes- he would show you exactly how a Targaryen prince fucked, how the rider of the largest dragon in the world fucked. Removing his cock from his confines, he aligned it with your slick entrance, teasing you with his tip before harshly sliding in.

He made sure to fully bottom out, the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix so roughly made you cry out. It was a bit too loud, even for an empty hallway such as this. Aemond moved his hand over your mouth. “That’s what you get for your little act, you will take my cock and you will be grateful.” He sneered.

You nodded silently, giving in as Aemond started to pound into you. He was not lying, he would have no mercy tonight- and maybe, that’s how you liked it. He grunted and breathed heavily behind you as his cock felt the warm embrace of your walls.

Aemond knew he would never grow tired of the way your cunt enveloped him, the way the ridges of your walls stimulated his tip and shaft just right- He knew he had to be fast, they couldn’t stay away for long.

He sped up his movements, fucking into you with such force that the noise of your connecting skin traveled through the Red Keep, over and over. The longer and harder he fucked you, the wetter you grew, making him able to thrust into you at a fast pace.

He was so so close, you could tell by the way his hips began to falter and Aemond grew louder himself. As his approach was nearing, he cared less and less for who heard, all he cared about was filling you up with his seed.

He rolled his hips into you more deliberately, ensuring his tip got a delicious stimulation. That did it- his balls tightend as his release fills your tight cunt. Usually Aemond would stimulate your clit so you could cum together- but today he did not. His back arched and he held you against him tightly, until he felt like he was fully empty.

The way his sticky release ran down your thigh was an addicting feeling, but your clit still throbbed. He took note of your disappointing face looking back at him. “What? You thought you would get rewarded for your behaviour?” He tormented. “Show me you can be good the remainder of this insufferable night- and you might get what you want.” With that he made you return to the feast with his seed still dripping out of you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #ewan mitchell #request #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen x fem reader smut #aemond targaryen x fem reader

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tangerineastronaut · 3 days ago

Note

hello can I get ateez members as doms? how they act with there subs in these relationship.

Dom!ATEEZ and Sub!Reader individual dynamics | ot8

Pairing: ot8 and their Dom!style Genre: ot8 reactions Requested: Yes w.c. 2.5k Warnings: BDSM dynamics, mentions of smut/sex/etc, discussion of punishments, dacryphilia A/N: what even is this I am so sorry this is so bad omg Please remember this is just my take. If you disagree, you're more than welcome to make your own! Don't take it personally 🫶🏽 Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Hongjoong

Be afraid

^ When you’re bad (most of the time, u little shit)

Hard!Dom, strictest of the members

Brat tamer 100000% but doesn't want to be

Genuinely gets angry when you’re a brat, would prefer if you’d just listen to him

Punishments are meant to break you emotionally

Worst of all the members in that regard tbh

Will deny you things rather than physical discipline ~ praise, orgasms, affection

Wants you desperate and needy, it gives him control over you

Can forget to give you praise at times, does not get angry if you ask/remind him

“Ah, sorry. I’ve been busy, baby. Yes, I’m proud of you for going out today, I know you’ve been struggling recently. Did you eat at that cafe you liked? Did you remember to use my card? Why not? That's what it's for, love."

Blows money on you

Cannot stop buying you pretty things, especially clothes

Makes you try on the things he's purchased for you - usually ends with you getting fucked in whatever you had on last

Wants you to wear nice things when you go out to fancy dinners

Not very physically affectionate but will be if you need him to be

Will not punish you for being insecure, just wants to reassure you and make you feel beautiful

Sex is either quick and dirty or long and passionate

Fav positions are standing or missionary with your legs over his shoulders

Shower sex >>>

He's so damn busy there's not much other choice

Looks so fucking hot when he's got you pinned to the tile wall

Biting/marking - he loves to use his teeth on you

Don't you dare bite him back

Likes foreplay but prefers sex, is good at eating you out but would rather use his cock than his tongue

Is good at aftercare, though it's more of a standard, doesn't like pillow talk unless you need it

Will still make sure you're safe/comfy/loved and will do anything for you

Is rough, but can turn it off when he knows you need a softer side.

Seonghwa

Soft!dom

Gentle until he isn't

Strict, but not the strictest

Does not enjoy punishments as much as the others, but still wants to make sure you know your place

Does not understand the concept of being a brat, you're so good for him

"What do you mean no? Like no...what? I just asked you to come here, silly."

Rarely has to punish you anyway, he doesn’t have many rules

You break the rules on purpose sometimes

He’ll punish you harder if he thinks that’s the case vs you accidentally breaking a rule

Very snuggly

Will want you to just sit with him while he works with his legos

Loves to be held by you

Asks you for compliments

“Do you like this color on me?”

Will not scold you in public

Expect gentle touches and verbal correction

Hates seeing you cry, even if it's from an intense orgasm

Obsessed with aftercare

Will shower you with praise and tell you how well you did

"I'm sorry baby, I was rough today. Took me so well though, so pretty. Love it when you get on your back for me. Want me to wash your hair?"

Likes taking care of you in general, will mother you like his members (but worse)

"Why didn't you eat today?! C'mon, let's go to that noodle shop you like."

Sex is not super kinky but is almost always emotional

Pretty straightforward, wants you both to feel good and snuggle after

Likes getting head and giving head, but prefers sex over foreplay

Fav positions are spooning and intimate spaces like in a comfy chair with you in his lap

Soft kisses + him stroking your hair + thanking you for always being his good girl

Yunho

Cocky and playful

Neither soft nor hard, just likes to keep you guessing

Is silly unless he's in a bad mood

Likes to make you sit in his lap while he games

You like it too, he knows it

Will get pouty if you don't praise his efforts

Don't tease him while he plays

Fr don't

If you value your cervix, you will not tease this man when he's not in the mood for sex

"What's wrong, baby? You were whining for my attention, now you're whining that it doesn't fit? That's a fucking lie."

Size kink

Likes feeling bigger/taller/stronger than you

Expect to be teased over this, even if you're not that short

Loves taking selfies with you

A big puppy

Can be a big scary puppy

Doesn't scold you in public

Likes it when you know you're in trouble

Sweetheart but will do a 180

When he's stressed or in a bad mood he can be too rough

Sometimes it's hard to tell when it's okay to be silly and not

He will let you know

Breeding kink at its finest

Size kink + breeding kink = RIP ur ability to walk

"I know it's deep baby, shh...almost there..."

Likes making you beg

Loves to degrade you and then praise you in the same breath

Talks you through it

Very sweet, silly aftercare

Sex is not complete until you're a giggling, sleepy mess in his arms

Fav position is anything where he can manhandle you beneath him

Yeosang

Quiet dom

But not soft

Very strict but is not loud about it

Perfect brat tamer, but isn't one (you can't rile him up—most intuitive of the members and rarely rises to the occasion)

Most of his dominant side is only seen when you're alone

Does not scold you in public

Expects you to follow the rules and does not remind you

Goes straight to punishment

You cannot catch him off guard

Knows your moods before you do

Terrifyingly calm

"Is that how we're acting today? Okay."

Likes to edge you

Loves when you orgasm as soon as his cock goes in due to overstimulation

^ will continue fucking you anyway

Thinks you're prettiest when you're crying

"That good, huh? You're blushing baby...such pretty tears."

Fucks you sitting up, likes it when you cling to him and wants to feel your tears on his shoulders

Eye contact >>>

So fucking calm it's scary, truly

Like imagine you've fucked up in public and you know it, this mf just gives you the gentlest of smiles

He likes you anxious

Sex is deceptively rough

You would not expect it but he likes it to hurt

He wants you to fight back

That grip strength is not to be taken lightly

Fav position is missionary or in a car with you in his lap

Aftercare is pretty strict, he has a routine

Bathroom, water, bed, letting him hold you

Prioritizes you afterwards since he knows he can be rough

Wants you to tell him about your day as though he didn't just rail you into next tuesday

San

Very traditional dom vibes

Does not hold back on punishments like hwa

Expect an equal amount of praise and correction, heavily values both

Big on body worship, either you on him or vice versa

Will want you to kiss his chest and shoulders and remind him how safe he makes you feel

Protective, but not possessive

Best dom for daddy issues

Will tell you he's proud of you but fuck you into the mattress a few minutes later

^ while still telling you he's proud of you

Most fair punishments, typically physical but not cruel

Spankings, being made to take it on the floor, being tied down, etc etc

Loooooves tying you up

Huge on boundaries and safewords

All the members are but San prefers constant check ins

"How are we, baby? Can you still take it? Use your words, pretty girl."

Sex lasts a loooooong time from foreplay to aftercare

Like, expect to spend an entire evening in the bedroom

Only because he loves to warm you up beforehand with a few orgasms

Loves it when you orgasm

Edging is not necessary, he wants you to have as many as possible until you're overstimulated

Follows your lead during aftercare, whatever you need

"Did so good for me. What do you need from me, baby? A massage? I can do that. Love you so much. Did so well tonight."

Will let you sit in his lap while he works

Likes it when you tease him, but won't punish you right away

Makes you wait for it

"Hi baby. Remember what you did earlier? Let's figure out how to make you say sorry without words."

Fav positions are you in his lap or lying on the counter/table

Mingi

BRAT TAMER

and loves it

Will encourage you to act out just so he can punish you

Literally begging for a reason

"Please baby. Tell me no one more fucking time. The kitchen table is right there and I'm hard as fuck."

Mean and you love it

Is going to bend you over any surface when you give him the slightest inclination that you're about to act up

Effortlessly attractive, actually unfair

Genuinely does not know how wet you are simply because he's pinning you down

Lives for his own pleasure and you're along for the ride

DO NOT think he doesn't care about you getting off tho—

—and do not let that man's mouth near your pussy if you know what's good for your health

Addicted to eating you out

Mingi demands few things of you as his sub, but allowing him to ravish your pussy is a requirement

You WILL sit on his face and you WILL cry and he WILL hold your hips so you can't squirm away while he sucks your clit and makes you cum for the third time

Uses it as both a reward and punishment

That overstimulation will have you in tears

He does not care

Sex lasts a little longer than average simply because you have to pry him off of you

Impatient when it comes to you and your attitude

Punishment is always physical

Loves to spank you for misbehaving

Not the kinkiest but probably the most hypersexual of the members

LOUD sex

Aftercare is not really organized but still very involved. Expect kisses, a very clingy man, and cuddling

Loves you with your clothes on too

Can forget to give you praise, but shows you he's proud in his own ways

"You made this? Holy shit, it's amazing. My baby can cook??"

Kissing the top of your head, just because he can >>>>

Does not scold you in public—probably has not realized you've done something that warrants scolding

Is possessive and VERY jealous

Like Hongjoong, he knows when to turn it off if you need him to be gentle with you

Wooyoung

A fucking? brat dom?

Will ignore you for attention

You can't outbrat the brat

Big on silent treatment as long as he thinks you can emotionally handle it

Very touchy feely, likes grabbing you and holding you against him

Has a range of looks to give you to tell you when you've fucked up

Hates when other men stare at you, will absolutely stare back

Loves PDA the most out of the members

Does not care if you're in public, will scold you when needed

Will also tease you just to see you squirm

Is not above things like vibrating panties when you've been acting up

Loves to use his hands during punishment or praise

Expect handprints on your ass

May as well get them tattooed on there tbh

Whiny when he wants your attention

Can sometimes be too much

"Are you okay? Was that too hard?"

Likes to make you cry

Enjoys pissing you off since you can't do anything about it

Imagine getting fucked daily by your biggest opp

"Aww, are you mad? Huh? I can tell. Cry me a river while you take this cock, baby."

a menace, tbh

Sex is kinky af

DIRTY TALK mf won't shut up as it is and rambles when he's inside you

"Take it, baby. That's it, just like that. So fucking pretty. You just open those legs when I come near, huh? An obedient little slut when she expects cock."

Not super long sex but can happen multiple times a day

Possessive and jealous

Takes lots of pictures of you

^ Doing anything

"Hold still, I'm taking a pic. Can you tilt your head? Your toothbrush is in the way."

Aftercare is forehead kisses and praise, whining when you have to get up.

Big heart, loves giving you compliments and seeing you shine

Is infinitely proud of you and will not stop telling you so

Likes to do domestic things with you like cooking

Takes you on cute little dates rather than big fancy dinners

Do NOT let him hear you talking bad about yourself

Jongho

Loves being a dom the most

Similar to San, very straightforward, traditional dom

Unlike San, has a cruel streak

Basically a combination of Hongjoong and San

He feels the best when he spoils you

Wants you to buy anything you want

Obsessed with you fr

Wants to make love to you any time he can

Will pin you down but...romantically??

Master of seduction, likes you warm and ready for him

Takes you to fancy dinners and then fucks you in the car on the way home

Loves having his cock worshipped by you

Can eat pussy but prefers seeing your lips wrapped around him

Calls you good girl more than anything

"Did you take your medicine this morning? Good girl."

Isn't jealous at all

Doesn't have to be, he knows you're his

When he catches other men staring at you he feels proud like "yeah, she's mine."

Extremely physically affectionate but only in private

Gentlemanly in public, his hand is usually at the small of your back

In private he just wants to hold you

Loves picking you up

Will pet your hair and pull you in for kisses while he asks about your day

Loves your hair btw

Like, wrapped around his insane grip while he fucks you from behind

Dirty talk

"That's it, baby. Look so pretty like this. You've been wet all day, huh? Just waiting for me to get home and make it better? How many times did you touch that pussy thinking of me?"

Not super kinky, but sex is still intense

Does like to blindfold you occasionally

Likes it when he comes home from work to find you naked in bed, where you're supposed to be

"Is this for me?" he'll ask, sliding his hand over your bare ass.

Doesn't even get fully undressed before he's inside you, he's only impatient when it comes to you

Breeding kink but AUTHENTIC. Like, wants you pregnant (only when you're ready) will probably find you absolutely irresistible when pregnant

Aftercare is whatever you need but will always include water and cuddles

Very protective of you, scolds you for being clueless at times

"Why the hell did you take an uber? You should've just called me. Who knows what kind of people are out there!"

Will get angry with you but you're literally the gem of his life, he treasures you more than anything

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 3 days ago

Text

Twelve Days: Part 5 **^

Here's the next part! Sorry it took so long 😭 But A LOT happens in this part and it might make y'all a little angry but I think the ending makes up for it!

Full Series Masterlist

WC: 10.5K

Warnings: Infidelity, mentions of slight germaphobia, mentions of unkept/untidy home life, fear of abandonment, sex (unprotected, penetrative), mentions of divorce.

It didn’t take as long as you had been expecting to hear back from Harry. Just another few days, you had just gotten into your car after a dinner service at a client’s home when his call came in. You were excited but feeling a bit nervous regarding the purpose of the call, it could be very casual but given the precarious situation you all found yourselves in, it could also be a call about things getting even more complicated. Regardless of what it was, you wanted to hear his voice.

“Hello?” You answered as you started to take off.

“Hi, how was your day?” He asked and you smiled.

“It was alright. And yours?” You asked.

“Busy. I had two lectures today, I’m just getting my things together before going home.” He shared.

“Okay. I am just heading home myself.” You shared.

“Good, I’m glad we get to accompany each other on our drives.” He said and you smiled.

“So how was it when you got back home?” You asked.

“We had a fight…she AirTag-ged my car.” He disclosed and your features twisted in concern.

“What?!”

“Right? Said she needed to confirm that I would go see you. I told her that I would’ve been honest about my plans if she asked.” Harry explained.

“It’s not like we did anything bad.”

“That’s what I told her. She seemed surprised for some reason.”

“Maybe because I’ve always been the more…liberated of the two.” You explained and he chuckled a bit and you smiled. “This would also disprove her theory that you’ve been spending time with me to make her jealous. I feel like that pisses her off more than anything.” You explained. “She’s always been first choice…” you said, “I get it though. She just puts herself out there more and whatnot, she’s easier to notice. I don’t mind that. I’m definitely more of a background girl, it’s where I thrive and feel comfortable so I’ve never competed her for it and I think she might…sense this…us as me trying to compete with her.” You explained.

“Well that’s shitty for me.”

“It is. And I promise you, I’m not trying to compete for you.” You assured him.

“I know, love. It just sucks thatshe is…” he said solemnly.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t feel bad for me, love.” He hummed.

“I do because you don’t deserve it. No one does! I just hopes she…gets some clarity soon. This is getting so insane.” You sighed.

“I don’t want to…create a bigger divide but she’s being pretty harsh towards you. She thinks it’s stupid of me to invest all this time in you because according to her, you’re a flake.” He said and you pouted.

“A flake?” You asked for clarification, you were shocked.

“Yep…she’s just saying things at this point.”

“Yeah.” You hummed.

“Well, I’ve given her a month, in my head. To just get her ducks in a row, meet with the lawyer, figure out what she’s going to do…if she doesn’t, I’m going to talk to your parents and ask them to please…reason with her.” He shared and you hummed, “Do you think they would?” He asked you.

“I think so…they love you so much. My mom has always said you’re the son she never got to have.” You shared and he chuckled.

“Did she?”

“She did! Has actually said it on multiple occasions.” You reassured him.

“Well that does make me feel better.” He hummed.

“Good.” You grinned.

After getting that over with, it was just some light conversation about the good and bad parts of your days until he had arrived home. You were going to do some grocery shopping before getting back to your apartment but assured him you’d let him know when you’d made it home.

Thankfully, Ash hadn’t shown up again. You half expected another visit and had been feeling on edge arriving at your apartment the last few days, but with each passing day you tried to let the anxiety diminish. You were loving your quiet life alone so far. You also liked your apartment and were sad that you might have to move if he ever showed up again, but you just needed to not see him again. It was disrespectful really, his inability to honor your wishes after he had left you the way he had. You were feeling even more upset by Bea telling him where you had moved to. You let her know that what she had done was completely unacceptable and just blocked her on everything. You’d observed the way she always got a little more flirty when Ash was around but didn’t think it’d get to the point where she’d share your private information just to get on his good side. Especially when she knew you wanted nothing more to do with him. Hopefully, you’d seen the last of him so that you could actually focus on the dilemma at hand. Your sister.

You were genuinely feeling really worried over what Julie’s next steps would be. You wanted to talk to her but she wasn’t answering your calls or responding to any of your texts just yet. Of course she had the right to be angry with you, but to think you were just using Harry for attention or to make her jealous? That wasn’t in your nature at all. To call you a flake? You were steadfast as can be, she knew this. You were raised the same. You were definitely hurt by her remarks, but you founds some solace in the knowledge that she was projecting her own insecurities about Joe onto you. This was the man who she had personally told you had some commitment issues! The man who undoubtedly made his way back into her life when he saw the seemingly perfect life she was leading with Harry via her social media, through the outlet she had used to allow him back into her life.

You wanted to correct this narrative Julie had made up of you so badly because she ought to know you better than what she was choosing to believe of you. You had never had the type of sister relationship that made you best friends, like you’d mentioned to Harry, there’d always been an air of competition. Being just three years older than you, you’d coincided academically on a few occasions and you really didn’t start to “fight back” until high school. Naturally, you were a bit more likable because you were more laid back . You were great in your classes without imparting as much effort, which surprised your teachers. You soon learned that they expected you to be a little more of a wooer as she had been but when they learned you weren’t they eased up on you, the other students did too. Comparison was a killer and after one awful fight she told you that you had ruined her senior year. She had been cold towards you after that until she was off at college. And well, you decided not to go that route, you went to culinary school instead. And that gave her enough of the sense of superiority that she needed to have over you to placate her.

It had been a week after your conversation with Harry that you had your appointment with your therapist and had gotten to speak to her about what your sister had been saying and how you were feeling about it all. She had been supportive of you trying to go speak with her and so you had done just that. It was the end of her workday and though you felt like a stalker for being parked next to her car waiting for her…this was the only way you’d get anything from her. When you saw her approaching the car you hopped out of yours. As soon as she caught your gaze she noticeably became deflated.

“What are you doing here?” She asked you and you offered a slightly nervous smile.

“Hi.” You greeted Julie. “I was just hoping we could go for dinner and talk?” You asked hopefully.

“About?” She asked cooly.

“What you saw.” You said and you saw her lips purse a bit as she gnawed the inside of her cheek pensively.

“I don’t know…I mean…I know what I saw, I don’t think we need to rehash it.” She stated as she crossed her arms.

“Well you’re still not talking to me so…”

“Because you kissed my husband!” She scowled.

“I know and I’m sorry-”

“No you’re not.” She cut you off.

“I’m not sorry for kissing him. I’m sorry that my actions upset you and angered you.” You clarified.

“So you’re sorry you got caught?” She asked.

“Not necessarily…I mean, I know that you actually don’t care that I kissed him. You don’t love him, so I know that it didn’t hurt you.” You said and she glanced away, “So I’m here to figure out what exactly you’re still so offended with me over.” You said and her gaze found yours again.

“You couldn’t have gone for anyone else?” She asked.

“I didn’t go for him, Julie! We were literally just talking about the things that we were dealing with. I mean, we’ve always had a good relationship as friends, you know that! But through these experiences we’ve been through we bonded on a new level. The attraction was just…there. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t a plan of any sort! And the fact that you believe I would do something like that…” you said sadly, “I’m not calculating like that. You know that. And to be quite honest with you, I feel like…your anger actually has nothing to do with me. It’s just being directed at me and that makes me upset.” You said and her jaw clenched a bit. “Well…that’s all I wanted to say so…” you trailed off and she just nodded but said nothing else.

After standing there in silence for a few seconds you just got into your car and left. You had done your part and now, the ball was in Julie’s court. You hoped that she would give what you’d said some honest thought and consideration. You had only been on the road for a few minutes when a call came in from Harry.

“Hey.” You greeted him.

“That was enthusiastic.” He chuckled sardonically and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorry. I’m just heading home from ambushing my sister.” You informed.

“Ah…I take it didn’t go too well?”

“Not really…” you confirmed. “She didn’t say much apart from the usual accusations of me interfering in your marriage.” You sighed. “I also presented to her the idea that maybe the things she’s been saying of me are actually her displacing her anger with her situation with Joe onto me. That one did upset her, I saw it in her eyes.” You elaborated.

“Yeah, she doesn’t love to be in the wrong…” Harry chuckled.

“Yeah. And have you made any headway with her?”

“I don’t know…we’ll see tomorrow. She has an appointment with the lawyer. I’ve already asked mine what I can do if she refuses to sign.”

“And what did the lawyer say?”

“I can petition through the court for them to serve her the divorce papers. If she does’t sign within a certain timeline then the judge can make a default ruling to dissolve the marriage. So there is a way to proceed if she doesn’t abide by my timeline. I just…I don’t want to put her through that humiliation because the only place I know where to find her apart from our house would be her job.”

“Yeah, that’s low…” you agreed. “I mean, you can AirTag her…” you chuckled and he laughed.

“I could…that low has been reached.” He hummed in amusement. “We also have to get a court date if I go that route and who knows how long that would take.”

“Yeah…let’s just hope she does the right thing and comes around.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “I’d like to see you again soon.” He said after a beat of silence.

“I’d like to see you too.” You hummed.

“Been seeing those videos of the couples painting each other…” Harry shared and you giggled.

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Yeah! I think it’d be fun, don’t you?” He asked and you giggled some more.

“Yeah, I think so too!”

“And I can cook for you this time.”

“Love that.” You hummed.

“And we can ask each other all the questions we have for each other over dinner and the painting.” He added to his suggestion.

“Yeah! That sounds like such a fun evening!” You agreed excitedly.

“Good! So let me know when you’ll have at least two days in a row off so that we can also have a little extra time the day after.”

“Okay, I’ll check my work calendar when I get home.”

“Perfect.” Harry smiled. “How are you holding up? Did Ash show up again?”

“I’m alright, still feeling a little…annoyed, I guess. But no, he didn’t come back.” You shared.

“Would you want him to come back? I mean, just so you can clear the air?”

“The more I give it some thought, not really. He’s said what he wanted to say…that he made a mistake, that he loves me and wants me back…” you said with a sarcastic, sing-song-y cadence.

“Do you want to say anything to him?”

“Just how much he hurt me but if anything, that gives him more power over me and I’d hate that.” You confessed.

“I’d hate that for you too. But if you need that for your closure then it might be worth thinking over before completely disregarding it.” Harry advised, as much as he really did hate the thought of you giving Ash another morsel of your time and attention. He wasn’t jealous, more protective than anything. You were still a shell of yourself and he hated that Ash had done that to you.

“Maybe you’re right…but I mean, just saying it out loud is enough for now.” You said, “Thank you for…making me feel comfortable and safe enough to be able to say it.” You thanked him.

“Of course, love.” Harry replied.

Harry was happy that he could make you feel safe and looked after. But he also wanted that same reassurance from you. He understood why you weren’t leaning into that

and into your feelings for him just yet though. You had every right to feel wary about what you two had going, especially with the stance Julie had taken. But that also meant that right now he had no one to really talk about his heavier and darker feelings. He knew for a fact that if he communicated that to you, you’d be there for him but he also didn’t want to overburden you while you yourself were struggling.

“And what about you? I know that maybe your feelings for Julie are not what they used to be but…it also can’t be easy for you.” You said and he bit his lip as he gave some thought to what he wanted to say.

“You’re right about that…It hasn’t been easy. I mean, because of my family and all, it’s created this…fear of being left behind.” He explained. “That weekend that I went to see you?”

“Mhmm?”

“She didn’t come home until Monday afternoon and when I got in she’d left her suitcase by the garage door and I was just filled with dread that she was leaving without saying anything to me.” He explained. “It felt…confusing…because, while I know that the love isn’t there anymore I still…invested a lot in her. In our home…”

“Yeah, I get that.” You assured him.

“And again, it was just that fear of not having a family again. That after everything I did to build a happy home life for myself, I’d still end up…alone.” He disclosed. After a few seconds of quiet he cleared his throat. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“Don’t be. I was just…processing, empathizing…” you said and he hummed, “If anything, I’d like you to say all of this to me as it comes. You’re always here for me. I want to be here for you too.”

“I want to tell you more but I don’t want to put more on your plate.” He explained.

“I appreciate that but I am feeling better…mentally.”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“Since…you.” You said and Harry smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Honest. It’s nice to have a friend and someone to care for with reciprocity.”

“It is. And for the record, I know that you’ll always be in my life. But a part of me is also scared that we won’t be able to have more down the line. Like, what if that gets ruined?”

“So my same fear?” You asked and he hummed.

“Guess so.” He confirmed.

“Well, there’ll always be space for you in my life. I mean that. I feel good when I’m with you and I can only imagine that it’ll only get better if we…are more.” You said timidly.

“I think so too.” Harry hummed and you smiled. “I understand that we both have things to heal from though and that it might take some time to get anywhere near where we might want to get eventually…” he trailed off and chuckled, “I don’t know if maybe I’m getting ahead of myself but I really like you and I like that I can fully be myself around you.” He explained.

You could feel your heart pounding so hard at what he was saying. You could feeling a warmth growing inside of you and spreading all throughout your body. This crush you had on him had you so affected. To hear him saying this was more of a relief than a cause for anxiety. You hadn’t allowed yourself to think that far out of fear that maybe it was intense for now but would fizzle out at some point down the line. But to hear him say that he wanted to give you two an honest shot when things got better, it made you feel a little less delusional. You loved his vulnerability with you. You could also be yourself around him in a way that was so pure. You knew he wouldn’t judge or make you feel bad for it. There was a baseline safety with him that helped your closeness grow quickly.

“Ummm…sorry. D-did I lose you?” He asked nervously and you shook your head quickly.

“Oh my god, no sorry! I was just…so happy to hear you say that.” You giggled.

“Thank god…” he chuckled in relief.

“So sorry.” You laughed through an apology again and he joined you as well.

“Ummm…a-are you far from Santa Barbara?” He asked and you bit your lip.

“Like…almost 30 minutes?”

“Hmmm…do you work tomorrow?”

“I actually don’t…” you shared.

“Can I come see you?” He asked.

“Now?”

“Yeah!” He chuckled, “If you don’t mind the company, it’s gonna be a long weekend. I won’t have class until next Wednesday.”

“You want to spend a whole ass week with me?”

“Yeah. If you’ll have me.” He hummed.

“What about Julie? I don’t want to instigate any bigger issues.”

“She hasn’t really been staying at the house since she returned from her weekend getaway.” Harry shared, “So…I think she’ll be fine.”

“Well then, I’d love to have you over.” You confirmed happily.

“Great! I’m just getting home so I’m gonna get showered, pack, and head over to you.”

“Perfect! See you soon!” You chirped, not even bothering to minimize your excitement.

“Alright, I’ll be seeing you soon.” Harry chuckled.

***********

It was nearing 8pm when Harry was calling to tell you he was outside of your building. You hurried down with your visitor’s badge to ensure his car was safe while parked there and soon enough you were heading back up to the warmth of your apartment.

“Have you eaten?” You asked him as he followed you in.

“Not yet. Do you want to order in?”

“We can but I’m not too hungry to be honest.” You explained.

“Has that been constant lately?” He asked as he set his luggage against your couch and his tote down on the couch.

“No, it’s actually been better. But I’m just…coming off my anxious wave after I ambushed Julie. I feel like it was alright but maybe I’ve made things worse.” You explained your concern as he came up to you and grabbed your hands.

“I get the anxiety but I must say that I’m proud of you for making an effort. And well, you know your sister, and whatever she does with what you said is out of your hands now, love. So try not to be too worried about it.” He advised you and you exhaled and nodded. “I know it’s a lot easier said than done, but you’ve said what you needed to and done your part, yeah?” He asked you and you nodded. “That’s all there is to it.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“I know…” you sighed and glanced down as his hands ran up your arms and rubbed over your shoulders soothingly a few times.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned your gaze back to him.

“I’m really proud of you for doing that. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“Thank you.” You whispered happily.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked next and you smirked a bit.

“Of course.” You hummed as one of his hands grabbed your chin gently and angled you up, “Kiss me whenever you want.” You said softly and he smiled.

“I don’t think you know what you’re unleashing…” he responded and you giggled.

“Show me then.” You smirked and he leaned in the rest of the way until your lips were meeting.

You loved to kiss Harry and thought of it often when you’d get lost in your day dreams. The shape of his lips fit so nicely against yours. The pressure of them pressing to your own, the eagerness and need that you could feel flooding the atmosphere between the two of you was addicting. If only he knew how much you were affected by this. Your mouth parted easily to let him in as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip. He moaned in relief in perfect unison with you when his tongue smoothed against yours. He had been longing for your taste as much as you had been longing for his. You grabbed his hands and guided them around your waist and he was quick to hug around you, pulling you even closer to his body as your kiss deepened. It was so easy to get lost in the moment with Harry. You were not sitting on your counter with him standing between your legs as you made out. His hands were up your shirt and yours were feeling over his biceps. You hadn’t ever been with someone as muscular as he was. He didn’t even have to flex for you to feel how strong and built he was.

You were suddenly startled apart by your phone ringing loudly across the counter indicating that it was time for you to begin your “no screen” time. It was easy to find yourself doom scrolling, especially when you struggled to sleep, so you’d made the resolution to cut down your screen time starting at 8pm each night.

“Can you grab it for me?” You asked Harry, your lips smearing into his as you asked your question and he nodded.

“Sure.” He responded and slid his hands from beneath your shirt and walked around the counter to grab your phone before bringing it back to you.

“Sorry, I’m trying to stop using my phone by 8pm each night.” You explained as you stopped the alarm and proceeded to turn on “Do Not Disturb” mode for the night.

“Smart!” He said as his hands landed on your thighs.

“It’s hard but research says cutting off screen time before bed helps.”

“Well, that’s true.” He assured you and you smiled. “And it’s 8 already? I should order something in.” He said before stuffing his hand down his back pocket and pulling out his phone. “Are you hungry now?” He asked you with a smirk.

“Yeah, more now.” You chuckled.

“Hungry for anything in particular?”

“Tacos?” You suggested.

“Ooh, perfect! What’s good in your area?” He asked and soon you had selected a little mom and pop, hole in the way a couple miles away that had never failed you before.

After placing the order you suggested Harry get into something more comfortable and then get settled in.

“Sorry, I don’t have any space for your toiletries.” You mumbled, “But you’re more than welcome to put your clothes in a drawer! The one of the top right should be empty.”

“It’s fine. As long as you don’t mind the bag staying up here. If not I’ll just keep it in my soot case.” He said with the Baron Trump meme accent. You looked to him and burst into laughter at this.

“I’m dead! I love that video!” You cackled.

“It’s funny!” He laughed along, “One of my students showed it to me…s’been stuck in my head ever since.” He explained with a smile.

“It is a gem…well, I don’t mind you having your things out for easier access!” You assured him.

“I’m tidy. I promise.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes playfully. “Tell me what your pet peeves are in a shared space, so that I can avoid them.” Harry requested.

“Ummm…just don’t be gross. Ash used to do this ridiculous thing where he’d leave his dirty laundry beside the hamper…” You recalled and Harry chuckled, “That pissed me off. Like it’s right there!” You expressed.

“Yeah, that’s stupid.” He chuckled.

“Or leave his towel on the ground, like he was in a fucking hotel.”

“Oh god…” Harry grimaced, “The smell…”

“Yeah! Mildewy and ugh…thinking of it is giving me the ick.” You frowned. “One time he did not unpack it from the gym and-”

“I know where it’s going, you don’t need to tell me.” He said and you giggled.

“I discovered it, so I have to tell you.”

“Fine. Go on.”

“It grew mold. The whole bag! And who discovered it in the garage?”

“Not Ash!”

“Exactly! And it was so humid that week…God, that was horrifying. Then he had the gall to be pissed at me for throwing away his Alo gym bag…ridiculous.” You huffed.

“If he cared so much about it why did he leave it in that state? What a prick.” He said and you nodded in agreement.

“Exactly what I said…he probably left it in his trunk, encountered the smell and just left it in the garage for me to find and wash.” you rolled your eyes. “And like, he wasn’t like nasty apart from those things. Like, you could tell his mom would do those things for him and his brothers.” You explained and he nodded. “What about you?” You asked.

“Ummm… well growing up my house was very neat until my mom met that prick of a man and then it was pretty unkept. I did a lot of the cleaning up so uh…I guess just clutter and dishes in the sink. That invites ants and cockroaches, which I detest. And well, one time I was going to treat myself to some biscuits and was met with a mouse in the packet so uh… yeah, I’m a little bit of a clean freak.” He explained. You could see that when he talked about these things he got a distant look in his eyes. Like he had to remind himself that, that wasn’t his life anymore. “Also, no eating in bed.” He added, “Because that is literally inviting bugs.” He explained and you nodded.

“Noted. Though I must admit, I have eaten in bed…specially when I’ve gotten sick and no one’s around to look after me.”

“Well you’ve got me now so…no need for that.” He said and you smiled.

“Yeah.” You hummed. “But being in the valley, there are just critters around so it is important to keep things extra clean. I haven’t had any encounters, thankfully! I’m very averse to them.” You explained.

“Yeah, they’re gross.” He agreed.

“Anything else?” You asked.

“Oh! Getting on the bed in outside clothes.”

“Okay, yes!” You agreed, “There are “safe” spaces for me though, I don’t know about you? But like if I visit my parents or friends that don’t have pets, I wouldn’t mind a quick sit on my bed, not gonna roll around in it either…” you said and he chuckled, “But that’s not as gross as if I had gone out to a restaurant or the movies, for example.”

“Well, wouldn’t your car seats have all the germs from everywhere else? So when you sit in the car that gets on your clothes, even if you were in a safe space…” you pouted after he explained.

“Oh god…we could be laying in filth right now…” you said with feigned concern.

“When did you last wash your comforter?” He asked, you knew he was trying to come off pretend-horrified but his eyes said otherwise.

“I’m messing with you! Literally over the weekend. I promise!” You laughed as he looked at you skeptically.

“Pinky promise?”

“Yeah!” You said as you extended your pinky out to him and he wrapped his around yours.

“If I get pink eye, we know what happened here.” He joked and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics as he sniggered. He then interlaced his fingers with yours and just held your hand in his. You could see that there was a lot going on in his mind and you wanted to help however you could.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” You asked him tentatively.

“Tons! But ummm…time and place.” He said as he glanced down at your hands. You squeezed his hand and he glanced up at you.

“Tell me.” You insisted and he sighed.

“Just that…when your sister leaves, for good, I was thinking about how long I’d have to be alone in that house. Like…I saved up a lot for that with the hopes of having a life and a family there, you know?” You nodded in understanding. “I don’t know if I could be there as comfortably if I were alone. I’d hate to sell it but…what would be the point in keeping it?” He asked and you hummed. “And you really don’t have to say anything about it, I just…am a little nervous to be all alone again. And like, I know that I wouldn’t be totally alone, but in a way I haven’t been in a decade you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.” You assured him.

“Like things would be missing that have been there since we moved in together…half of the things would be gone…and well, I couldn’t very well ask or expect you to be able to visit as often as I’d probably like…” he added.

“I get it. It’s scary.” You said and he nodded.

“How’d you do it?” He asked and you smiled.

“Well, I’m in the middle of that and well, I am depressed!” You chuckled and he smiled, “So…still learning how to cope, I guess. This, with us? It’s helped. I don’t feel so alone anymore.” You explained.

“Good.” He hummed.

“Yeah, so if you… need me to go out there and hang out you can ask. Whatever the reason in your brain is that’s holding you back from asking me for reciprocity? It’s wrong. If being there and enjoying the home you worked so hard for is important to you, then it’s important to me too.” You assured him with a sincerity that he hadn’t seen from anyone in years and you saw his lips turn up a bit.

Harry just felt this sudden rush of warmth overcome him. He definitely wanted you over more, he just felt a little bad about it right now while things were still up in the air. He wanted to live there forever, he hadn’t committed to buying a home thinking that he would one day grow sick of it. It was heaven on earth to him. He could step out onto his balcony and see the ocean from it! Of course he had made compromises along the way to accommodate Julie like in decor, in paints, upgrades…but he still loved the house. And to know that you’d be willing to make the drive out and spend time with him there simply because he loved it and was comfortable there, well, that was almost more than he could ever ask for. So he was really glad that you had offered it.

“I’d actually really like that.” He finally said and you smiled.

“Okay. Then we’ll make it happen.” You assured him and he smiled and let go of your hand but only because he was pressing himself up to kiss you again. And as your new normal seemed to be, you got lost in it until the delivery person’s call was interrupting you.

You had initially been concerned that maybe you’d pushed him too far or said too much but by the way he was acting now, it seems you had said the correct thing. Harry was a protector, he always had been that way. He was very concerned for your sister, for you, your family… it was never in a way that made you feel incapable, but he just liked to show you all that he would take care of you all if shit hit the fan. You knew that it had been hard for him not to be able to do that for you in the last year, even when he was going through his own stuff. So now, you wanted to allow him to make up for lost time and as you had said, you wanted to reciprocate the way he made you feel and were glad that he felt like you were.

“M’afraid you’re not gonna get a turn, love…” Harry practically slurred with his cheek smushed up against your stomach. You were currently laid on the couch, longways of course, and had put on “Miss Congeniality”. But you had agreed to give each other massages. However, Harry had elected for you to massage his head and it was putting him to sleep.

You giggled, but kept on going. “S’alright.” You responded softly. You could feel him growing heavier against you. “Maybe we should move to the bed though. Don’t want you to have a rough night.” You explained.

“In a minute.” He mumbled.

“Okay.” You agreed.

Soon enough you’d made it to your bed and as soon as you got under the covers he was reaching for you and pulling you against him. You smiled as you snuggled in against him. You felt him kiss your shoulder before he exhaled and you knew it would be so easy to fall asleep tonight.

*************

When you woke up the next morning it wasn’t because of your alarm, it was just a force of habit. But you were shivering from the cold and were pleased that it was apparently raining. You could heard the soft patter against your bedroom window. And then, you heard Harry humming along to John Mayer just a few feet away in the kitchen. Despite wanting to stay tucked away in the warmth of your bed, you got up and hurried into the bathroom to relieve yourself and freshen up a little bit. When you emerged, Harry was back in bed, topless and smiling at you.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.” You smiled.

“You were snoring.”

“I was not…” you mumbled bashfully as you headed back over to the bed.

“You were! But not like, loud or scary, it was just soft.” He described with a grin. “It was cute! Like a cartoon.” He assured you and you rolled your eyes as you got back in bed. “I just put on some coffee.”

“Thanks.” You hummed as you turned on your side to face him.

“Course.”

“Now, c’mere, please. It’s cold.” You requested and he smiled and hurried over into your side.

“What do you wanna do today?” He asked.

“Be lazy.” You said and he chuckled. “I do have a client to cook for tomorrow, s’just dinner prep, so I should be back around 6-6:30 the latest.”

“Would you be up to doing something after?” He asked.

“Yeah!” You hummed.

“Something lowkey, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You confirmed.

“Perfect. Now, I’m gonna kiss you.” He mumbled.

He moved closer and leaned in until your lips were meeting slowly but still eager and saturated with passion. Your hand landed on his chest and slid over his shoulder, tugging him into you, inviting him to settle over you. Your legs tangled momentarily as he started to straddle you. He was holding your jaw as your kiss deepened even further. His hands were sliding up your body, dragging your top up as he went. You sat up to help him pull it off and as soon as he was able, he was back on you, his lips littering your chest in kisses and delicate but playful nicks to your breasts. Your fingers combed through his hair, relishing in the sensations he was giving you. You were absolutely desperate for him and your skin was tingling, you were desperate to feel the warmth of his hands over your arms. You wanted to kiss him again and so you tried to tug him up and he quickly got the hint and kissed up your chest, neck, and jaw before kissing you sloppily. You ground up against him to feel the bulge in his thin pajama pants against you. He grinned and ground down against you with more intent.

“Is that what you want?” He asked and you blinked up at him.

“More.” You whispered and his gaze softened.

“You sure?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Yes. Please.” You beseeched and Harry smiled before kissing you once more. In moments, he was helping you undress. You were both moving impatiently and albeit a little clumsily, but you were absolutely desperate for each other. And as his naked body hovered over yours you finally felt a little bit better. Relieved. “Please get inside me.”

“Okay.” He hummed and kissed your lips once more, “Didn’t think to bring condoms. D-do you have some?” He asked and you huffed.

“No.” You muttered in slight irritation. You hadn’t planned to ask him to have sex with you, if you had, you would have stocked up, just in case.

“Would you care if we didn’t use one?” He asked and you bit your lip pensively. “Obviously, we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it. And well, I can go buy some really quick and give you some time t-to really think about if you really want to do this. You know, in case you maybe have s-some doubt?” He asked.

“I don’t have any doubts.” You assured him with a smile, “D-do you?” You asked and he shook his head, his little smirk mirroring your own.

“No. I can go get the condoms.” He said again and you bit your lip for a second.

“Ummm…that’s alright.” You assured him and as happy as he was to hear you say that, he gave it a few seconds to let you change your mind.

“Sure?” He asked again and you nodded.

“I’m so fucking sure.” You whispered through a nervous chuckle and he smiled and kissed you again.

“I’ll be mindful to pull out, okay?” He mumbled into your lips.

“Yeah.” You agreed as you raised your leg over his hips to give him space to get inside of you. You could feel the heat and weight of his cock pressed up against you. “I want you so bad.” You whispered.

“I do too, baby.” He hummed as he ground down, letting his cock settle between the sticky and swollen folds of your pussy. You shivered when his tip kissed at your clit with his soft thrusts. “Right there?” He asked and you nodded frantically.

“Yeah, that feels good.” You confirmed breathily and he smiled as his eyes bore into yours.

“Go on then, get what you need.” He hummed lowly and you wasted no time in grinding along with him at your desired pace. You whined lowly as you started to feel the pleasure escalating from the friction. Just when you were getting close you stopped yourself.

“Want to stop?” He asked you, looking into your eyes to ensure everything was okay.

“No, but I don’t want to come like that.” You explained a bit bashfully.

“Oh…I see.” He hummed with a smirk on his face that made you blush. “Get me inside then.” You smiled and reached down between your bodies. You grabbed a hold of his cock, he was so fucking hard. You raised your hips a bit as you guided him down to your entrance and when you felt that slight dip you rubbed him over your slit a few times. Your eyes flickered up to his only to see his brows furrowed together at the feeling of being just on the edge of slipping inside of you.

“Do it.” You whispered and he let his weight drop down to his hips and just like that he was being swallowed up by your hot and wet muscle. The two of you moaned in unison when he sunk in all the way and collided with your back wall. He held inside for a few second before groaning as he drew back and sunk in again. You exhaled shakily and grabbed his face to kiss him deeply. “Harder.” You said and he nodded before fucking into you with more force and that was absolutely what you were after. You moaned in relief and he kissed you deeply again.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yeah, it feels so good!” You whined and he hummed in satisfaction.

You were already so close, but you wanted to be closer, as close as was physically possible. You wanted to feel overwhelmed by him in the best way possible. And when he delivered his next thrust harder than before you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your mouth. Harry groaned and went again and again, relishing in the satisfied, little grunts you were making. You were absolutely drenching his cock but you couldn’t help it because he was thrusting up against the most sensational spot inside of you. It was almost too deep for you but you welcomed the feeling, you wanted to feel the ache after he was gone in a few days. And it’s almost like he could read your mind as he thrust in and held himself inside of you, grinding into you, watching as your eyes squeezed shut and you shuddered at the sensation of him fucking you that deep.

“Fuck y’feel so good!” You whimpered as you squeezed your legs around his hips and he grinned as he watched your brows pinching together.

“Not as good as you feel, baby.” He hummed lowly, “So fucking wet and hot…” he grumbled, “Shit…gonna need you so fucking badly. All the time. Gonna be dreaming of how nice it feels.” He muttered against the column of your throat.

You were completely covered in goosebumps, you were trying to stop your legs from trembling but you wouldn’t be able to hold that off for much longer. It just felt too fucking good…he was hitting a part inside of you that even had your clit tingling, if you rubbed on it, it would truly be too much. As badly as you wanted and needed to come, you wanted him to keep fucking you. For him to be your first fuck after all this time, it was well worth it. You could hear the wet squelches of your arousal slicking up his cock and helping him fit inside of you. His girth and length were to die for and absolutely addictive.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come!” you warned him and he grinned down at you, very pleased with himself for how fucked out he had you already.

“Already?” He gloated slightly and you smiled and nodded. Your vision was even blurry at this point as tears of ecstasy and joy welled up in your eyes. “You’re already so fucking gone f’me, S’gonna wipe you out.” He said smugly and you hummed with a slight smile.

He was right, this orgasm would absolutely ruin you and melt your brain. He was literally fucking you better, quite literally forcing your brain to flood your body with that deliciously and slightly terrifying cocktail of oxytocin and dopamine. You swore your skin was tingling, every single cell in your body was going to contribute to this orgasm. But the longer you held off the more intense everything felt. Your walls were throbbing uncontrollably and you were trying so hard to just hold off for a second to make it last longer but it made it worse, as you squeezed the deep plunges of his cock became even more pleasurable and your legs started to tremble and your breathing to shallow.

“Come on, baby. Give it t’me.” He encouraged you and you nodded before pulling him down to kiss you and as your lips met urgently in a messy kiss you started to come. You emitted these pathetic whines and whimpers you’d never ever made before as the ecstasy took over every single part of your body. You were trying not too make too much noise but you were on fire and it had never felt like that before, it was almost too much! Harry’s lips parted from yours so that you could breathe and properly release your sounds as your hips ground up into his to keep the pleasure going. One of your hands pressed down on his butt, holding him close to you and the other was tangled in the curls at the back of his head. He groaned as you squeezed hard around his cock. Your tight, hot muscles were suffocating and contracting around his girth, he nearly fucking drooled from how delicious it felt to be buried in you like this. “M’gonna come.” He panted.

“Come inside of me.” You slurred and he moaned at the mere idea of getting to flood your hot, little pussy with his sperm. He got goosebumps as he thought about how good it would feel to have you take it all. To pull out and see it dripping from your swollen and wrecked little hole only for him to push his cock back into you and get his load back into you. “Please, come in my pussy.”

“Fuck, baby…” he chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna come so hard.” He panted, “Gonna drown your little pussy.” He mumbled as his abs started to clench and his toes to curl. And moments later he was grunting through three hard and pointed thrusts before stilling. He pressed right up against you and moaned deeply in satisfaction as he came undone. He felt his muscles spasming, struggling to hold his weight as he started to gush inside of you. You could feel the dramatic twitches of his cock lodged up deep inside of you as he filled you up, just as he promised and it was so good, his hips were moving by his own accord at this point and he was enslaved to the feeling of being inside of you, no matter how sensitive it was starting to feel for him. “Fuck…” he panted lowly.

You could feel his arms trembling and just hugged him tight, encouraging him to drop his weight over you and he did easily. Your fingers danced and tickled over the heated and slightly damp skin of his back as he came down from it. You were finding comfort in his deep inhales as he continued trying to catch his breath. After a few more moments of this he was still completely silent. You knew there was nothing wrong because he was practically melted against your body, and you smiled and kissed the top of his head as he started to sponged a few sloppy kisses along your jaw. With the little strength he had built up again, he pulled you both onto your sides. He slipped from you with the change in position but you draped your leg over his hip and his hand immediately ran up your leg soothingly while he rested his head over his other arm. You were smiling as you just watched him, he still had his eyes closed as he regulated his breathing.

“You alright there?” You inquired, your voice was a whisper but he could hear the slight hint of smugness in it.

“Just a little light headed.” He chuckled his confession and you giggled and reached for his face. You caressed the side of his face lovingly with the backs of your fingers.

“Want me t’get you some water?” You asked.

“No, stay here with me.” He responded and you smiled.

“‘Kay.” You whispered. You just watched him for a few seconds until he slowly blinked his eyes open. You smiled as he squinted a bit.

“Jesus, I’m seeing spots.” He laughed lowly through his admission and you started to giggle along with him. “Don’t laugh at me.” He griped and you leaned forward and smooched over his pouted lips.

“M’not. I’m laughing with you.” You mumbled against his mouth and he quickly kissed your lips back.

“Sure…” he hummed and finally opened his eyes and met your adoring gaze.

“We’re going again later, right?” You asked and he laughed for a moment before kissing you again and nodding.

“Oh absolutely. I might not be able to walk but it’ll be worth it.” He mumbled into your kiss-swollen lips.

“God…but good.” You giggled, completely satisfied with his response.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” He whispered and you glanced away bashfully and instead focused on the swallow tattooed over his left pectoral.

“Neither do I.” You admitted and he smiled as you leaned closer and buried your face into the crook of his neck and took a deep inhale before placing a kiss at the base of his throat.

There was only one thought at the forefront of his mind right now and it was that there was absolutely no world in which this didn’t end with him falling absolutely and hopelessly in love with you. He loved everything about you and what he’d seen of your life so far, he couldn’t wait to experience it for the rest of the days he’d be here with you.

Several Days Later…

You didn’t want to verbalize just how perfect the last several days had been with Harry in case you were to jinx it, but you were certainly thinking about it with each passing minute. You had clients that day so you had to leave Harry at your place for but it was so lovely to return to a clean home and a meal. As soon as you walked in you could smell the lingering fresh scent of cleaning products but were mostly overpowered by what you were kind of hoping was a bolognese sauce. Thankfully, you were able to make off from your last client with a little extra dessert, so you had something to contribute for tonight.

“Smell’s amazing!” You announced your arrival as you slipped out of your shoes.

Harry didn’t respond so you figured he was in the shower or something. And as you walked further in you saw that the table was set and two long stick candles were lit, giving the setting a more intimate feel. You bit your lip to hold back your excitement. It was your last night together, so you weren’t surprised that Harry was pulling out all the stops until the next time you got to be together. You headed towards your bedroom to change into a fresh and more comfortable outfit and when you stepped inside you saw Harry just standing at the window and glancing out towards the busy street below.

“Harry?” You called in question and he sniffled and turned around.

“Sorry, I was trying to collect myself-”

“What happened? What’s wrong?” You asked quickly as you let your purse drop to the floor and rushed over to him.

“Your mom called,” he said and you immediately though the worst, your heart dropped, “Julie told them that she’s pregnant.” He said and you stopped right before you reached him. Not as terrifying as you thought but still incredibly fucking awful. Your features furrowed in disappointment and your stomach turned as the information processed. Harry hurried over to you, “Baby, it’s not me. It couldn’t be, we haven’t slept together since like August!” He explained and you nodded and let him take your hands. “But they don’t know that.”

“Ask for a paternity test.” You said right away.

“I will.” He assured you. “I guess she said she wasn’t feeling well so your mom drove her to the urgent care and they found out. Your mom called me all excited about it… I just don’t want to humiliate her.” He explained.

“And that’s very noble and considerate of you, Harry. But you do realize that she’s trying to put you in an impossible position.” You said and he frowned. “You deserve to do this. To have a family on your own terms, Harry.” You said and he nodded.

“I-I don’t even know what to do about this.” He stammered, still in shock.

“This is going to sound awful but…tell your lawyer.” You said and he sighed. “She’s willing to force you into this situation when you had nothing to do with it. If she has to prove paternity she will have to be honest. She loves Joey and she did this with him, they need to figure this out together.”

“You’re right.” He conceded. “Ummm… I’m not feeling too hungry any more. I’m sorry.” He said and glanced down at the floor.

“That’s alright. I understand.” You assured him. “I also understand if you…need some space.” You said and he glanced into your eyes again.

“Yeah… I ummm…I should go.” He said and you nodded, “They’re expecting me to look after her since she isn’t feeling well. And the drive’ll help, I think.” He muttered, but he was quite absent.

“Okay.” You said softly and he just walked around you and into your closet to grab his suitcase. You just watched silently as he robotically and haphazardly just dumped his things into the luggage before shutting it and wheeling it out. You followed after him as he headed to the entrance and slipped into his sneakers.

“Harry.” You said and he glanced up at you. You could see his eyes welled up with tears. “Please be safe.” You said and he nodded before rushing out. As soon as the door shut your own tears started to trickle down your face.

You were relieved when he texted you that he’d gotten home and assured him that if he needed to talk at all that you’d be there for him. But you felt so angry at your sister for this one. How could she do this to him? It was awful and selfish behavior. You wanted to call her but this wasn’t your battle to fight.

Harry’s POV:

Harry felt completely blindsided by Isabel’s phone call about Julie. He felt sick to his stomach as he parked in the garage because Isabel was still at their house, her car was up front and he had no idea how he would swallow down all that devastation and dread he was feeling. He didn’t want to ruin Isabel’s excitement but pretending that he was happy about this…having to hold and kiss Julie, congratulate her for something he had nothing to do with, it made him sick to his stomach. He texted you to let you know that he’d made it safely and you immediately loved his message and with that he made it inside.

“Oh good! You’re home!” Isabel greeted him excitedly as soon as Harry made it inside from the garage. He put on a smile and nodded, approaching her to greet her.

“Yeah, sorry it took me a while. I was out in LA.” He explained.

“No problem, as long as you made it safe!” She said as she opened her arms and he ducked down a bit to hug her and kiss her cheek. “Congrats, mijo.” She hummed happily as she gave him a firm squeeze.

“Thank you.” He responded as they pulled away slowly.

“I’m just making her some ginger tea, she’s been very nauseous.” Isabel explained.

“Thank you, I’m gonna go see her now.”

“Yes, please!” She insisted, beaming from ear to ear and he smiled and made his way out of the kitchen.

Every step he took up towards the bedroom made him even more sick to his stomach. He hoped there was extra of that ginger tea because this was getting to be too much. When he made it to the top landing he saw the bedroom door open and he made his way over to see Julie scrolling through her phone.

“Hey.” She greeted him solemnly.

“Hi.” He said quite cooly.

“Look-”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He cut her off and she frowned.

“Not while my mom is here, Harry.” She sighed.

“No. We’re doing this right now.” He insisted as he pushed the door back leaving it slightly ajar.

“Then close it all the way.” She said.

“Then we won’t hear her coming. I won’t raise my voice if you don’t.” He said and she sighed. “There is no way you didn’t know.” He insisted, “When did you find out?”

“On Monday.” She said, “I missed my period last week and I took two tests on Monday. One positive and the other inconclusive. Sometimes it can be stress or other things that impact so I figured I should go and find out.”

“And you had to take your mom to do that?”

“I was scared!” She defended herself.

“Then you should��ve asked Joe.” He retorted.

“I didn’t want him to freak out!”

“But you’re okay with your mom thinking that I got you pregnant?!” He asked angrily and her eyes started welling up. “You have to tell your parents now, Julie.” He said.

“Harry, please-”

“No! I’m not going to take responsibility for this!”

“And what if he leaves me?” She asked and Harry’s eyes softened for a moment.

“I-I don’t know but you have been cheating on me for months! We haven’t slept together since last year! This has nothing to do with me, Julie!” He was trying not to raise his voice but he was so hurt and angry at her. “You don’t love me and I know for a fact you don’t want this with me.” Harry finished and she started to sniffle as her tears fell. “You have to tell your family the truth!” He urged.

“Do you know how humiliating that will be!?”

“If you had agreed to the divorce when I brought it up not as much as it might be now! If you don’t come clean to your parents about this I will involve my lawyer and demand a paternity test! And we both know what the result will be.”

“I need more time.” She said softly.

“You have until the end of the month.”

“Harry-”

“You tell them or I do.” He said sternly.

Isabel’s POV:

She hadn’t meant to eaves drop, she just wanted to come ask Julie if she would want some toast with her tea to settle her stomach when she heard the hushed argument.

“Harry, please-”

“No! I’m not going to take responsibility for this!” She heard Harry respond. She almost intervened when she heard this, feeling so much anger rising up in her at the sound of her son-in-law being so disinterested and cold after finding out he would be a father!

“And what if he leaves me?” Julie asked and she stopped from reaching for the door. She was momentarily frozen in shock as she processed Julie’s concern.

“I-I don’t know but you have been cheating on me for months! We haven’t slept together since last year! This has nothing to do with me, Julie!”

Isabel could hear it in his voice that he felt bad but if this was not his child, he truly had no obligation to her. Especially if she had been having an affair for who knows how long.

“You don’t love me and I know for a fact you don’t want this with me.” Harry added. “You have to tell your family the truth!”

“Do you know how humiliating that will be!?” Julie cried quietly and Isabel frowned and started to back away, hearing faintly about previous discussions of a divorce. This was very private and she had heard more than she probably should have.

She was completely taken by surprise and immediately felt so bad for Harry and the situation that she had unintentionally put him in. She could only imagine how devastated he felt knowing that his wife was pregnant with another man’s child. A man that might not even stick around to help her or support her with this. Obviously she would always love her daughter, but it didn’t mean that she would always support her choices and this choice…to have an extramarital affair. To not grant Harry the divorce he had seemingly asked for before when she didn’t even love him anymore. The gall to ask him to stick around if the other man didn’t… it did not sit well with her and made her feel so frustrated at her. She hoped that Julie would say something soon because there was no way she could keep quiet for too long. Harry had been so good to all of them and he did not deserve that.

FINAL PART...

---- TAG LIST ----

@harrystyleshotwife @daphnesutton @mads3502 @triski73 @xoxxjada @fangirl509east @stylesftcher @charlottesrecommendations @taintedwonderland-blog @goobernickle @loverofhsandallthings1d @toasterstreudelsworld @sassamanda77 @behindmygreyeyes

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wandassweetheart · 16 hours ago

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Rafe Cameron x it girl kook reader smut, she first gives him head telling him how lucky he is to have her then after he fucks her for being the brat she is

WHO’S THE LUCKY ONE?

pairing - rafe cameron x it girl!kook!reader

warning! - 18+ mdni, smut, oral (m receiving), sort of toxic idk??

a/n - genuinely need to be in between rafe’s manspread rn. GUYS I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’VE BEEN GOING THROUGH A LITERAL IDENTITY CRISIS AND MY MH HASNT BEEN FANTASTIC RECENTLY AND IM TRYING TO GET BACK ON TRACK OKAY?? I LOVE YOU ALL AND STAY HEALTHY AND HAPPY. credits to @thecutestgrotto for the divider!!

“you should be lucky that i’m even in between your legs right now,” you reminded him as you guided your head up and down his length at a painfully slow pace. as your hand palmed the bottom of his cock, rafe’s head tilted back with his lips softly parted open. eyes shut and everything, you were the only one who could make him feel that way. you bobbed your head along his solid shaft listening to the way you were turning him on with his quiet groans and the grip on your hair becoming tighter.

you came up with a little pop! before repeating, “you’re so lucky you have me”. you continued on whilst fisting his cock in the palm of your hand. “don’t think sofia could treat you this way,” you picked up the pace with your hand. “ah, shit!” rafe groaned your name out whilst tugging on your hair a little. “don’t gas yourself up yet, baby —shit. haven’t seen you take all of me in that proud mouth of yours.”

rafe jerks his cock forward into your mouth, which surprises you making your gag reflex surface. with a smirk, rafe cocks his head back and huffs out a laugh, “not so bratty when that mouth is put in good use, huh?” all you could do was look up at him pleadingly, you were still trying to adjust to the surprise of his length being invaded into your mouth. you could feel the drool starting to coat rafe’s dick and smear around your mouth.

“it’s no use for you to just stare up at me is it?” rafe muses, whilst grabbing your hair up and almost pushing and pulling you up his cock. “oh fuckk,” he groans with a light chuckle. the noises that cane out of your mouth were almost ridiculous, the squelching and the gagging —but it just felt so good and you felt so lucky. “i love how your mouth takes me so well, baby. let’s see how good your pussy does, hm?”

rafe pulls you up onto his couch, spreading your legs wide open. he forcefully tugs you towards him and leans down onto you, gripping your hips in place and carefully tracking soft bruises down to your entrance with his lips. slowly, he lifts his head up, towering over you with a small smirk on his face. he aligns his cock between your folds, sliding through the slick of your pussy— making you shiver a little.

as he pushes into to you with a groan you cant help but a let out an almost pornographic moan. “shiiit baby, you take me so well.” no matter how many times you and rafe fucked your pussy could just never get used to the stretch of his length. he steadied himself before rutting into you like there was no tomorrow, he bent down to press his front against yours. “what a brat for thinking you could talk to me like that,” his hand ran up to your breasts as if using them for support. he kneaded into them whilst you clawed and dug at his back, leaving red lines and scratches.

you arched your back whilst rafe was going absolutely animalistic into you. “who’s the lucky one?” he huffed out, slamming into you faster. you don’t say anything, still trying to focus on the pleasure that was possessing your body. “answer me or i won’t let you cum, who’s the lucky one?” you try to find your words and your throat is so sore from screaming. “m-me,” you squeak out, feeling a bruise starting to form from the way rafe was manhandling your breasts. “that’s right,” rafe breaths out before continuing, “good job, baby. you’re my smart girl, right?”

your body jolts from the sudden burst of satisfaction. “mhmm! rafe i’m gonna cum,” you lament, trying to hold back from losing total control of your body. “together, baby.” he ruts faster. “3…2… shit!” rafe hurriedly pulls out as he spurts his mess all over your stomach whilst you spasm beneath him, experiencing your high. your whole body feels numb as you catch your breath and rafe drops down next to you.

“you did so well, baby. never forget that you’re the one who’s lucky to have me.” he gives you a small kiss on the top of your head before engulfing you into his arms.

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rik0shii · 3 days ago

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Hihi!! May i request a g dragon x kpop idol reader ? (Maybe she is from the group 2ne1) and its like how they fall for eachother in shared concerts , award shows , interviews etc..

sorry if this is not specific enough ^^”

Lysm!!

Stolen Glances & Silent Love

(A G-Dragon x K-pop Idol!Reader Love Story – 2NE1 Era)

G-Dragon and the reader, a 2NE1 member, slowly fall for each other through shared performances, award shows, and quiet moments backstage. Their chemistry grows over time, leading to an unspoken but undeniable connection.

hii!! tysm for requesting! i hope this is to your liking,reposts and comments are appreciated!

part 2 is here

The first time you met G-Dragon, it was backstage at your debut stage.

BIGBANG had just finished performing, their energy still radiating in the waiting room, while you and your fellow 2NE1 members were mentally preparing for your first-ever live broadcast. The nerves had kicked in, but your leader, CL, had been hyping you up, telling you that everything would be fine.

Then, in the middle of that chaotic moment, a voice cut through.

“Nervous?”

You turned to see G-Dragon, leaning against the doorway, watching you with an amused but understanding gaze. You had admired him for years—who hadn’t? He was G-Dragon, the leader of BIGBANG, the genius behind some of K-pop’s biggest hits.

“A little,” you admitted, gripping your mic.

“Good,” he chuckled. “Means you care. Just don’t forget to have fun. YG picked you girls for a reason.”

He gave you a small nod before walking off, and as simple as it was, his words stuck with you.

That night, you performed like your life depended on it. And when you came off stage, the first person you made eye contact with was him. He was watching, smiling, and clapping.

That was the beginning.

Award Shows & Hidden Conversations

As 2NE1’s success skyrocketed, your interactions with G-Dragon became more frequent. YG Family was close, and between overlapping schedules, joint performances, and year-end award shows, you found yourself in his orbit often.

One of the most memorable moments happened at an MAMA Awards show.

2NE1 and BIGBANG were seated at the same table, and cameras frequently cut to your reactions throughout the night. You were mindful of your expressions, but whenever something funny happened on stage, you and Jiyong would instinctively glance at each other.

It was a game you two had—sharing silent conversations across the room.

When 2NE1 was announced as the Best Female Group, the entire YG table erupted in cheers, but your eyes sought out Jiyong’s first. He grinned at you, clapping enthusiastically, and as you walked past him to get to the stage, he leaned in ever so slightly and murmured,

“Told you you had that fire.”

You almost tripped in your heels.

Later that night, while waiting for the encore stage, you found yourself standing next to him backstage. The two of you watched as idols from different companies congratulated each other, some exchanging polite bows, others hugging excitedly.

“You should enjoy this more,” Jiyong suddenly said.

You tilted your head. “I am enjoying it.”

He smirked. “No, I mean… let yourself have fun. Don’t get so caught up in the pressure.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re G-Dragon. You own the stage.”

For a second, something shifted in his expression. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, CL called for you, and just like that, the moment was gone.

But it lingered in your mind for a long time after.

Interviews & Subtle Flirting

The industry started noticing the way you and G-Dragon interacted.

During a variety show appearance, a segment about ideal types came up. One of the MCs jokingly asked,

“YG artists are close, right? Have you ever had a crush on someone from your company?”

Your members laughed and teased each other, but you only smiled and took a sip of water.

Then, the MC turned to Jiyong, who was also a guest on the show.

“How about you, GD? Anyone from YG catch your eye?��

The question was innocent, but the moment it was asked, you felt CL and Dara subtly glance at you. Trying to stay composed, you kept your expression neutral.

Jiyong smirked. “YG has a lot of talented people. Hard not to be impressed.”

The MCs weren’t satisfied. “Come on, give us a name!”

He tapped his chin playfully, pretending to think. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, “Well, I’ve always thought someone with… a strong stage presence and great energy is attractive.”

It was vague enough to be safe, but everyone at the table knew who he meant.

Your members giggled, nudging you, while you simply rolled your eyes and tried to focus on your drink. But the warmth on your cheeks betrayed you.

Shared Stages, Shared Feelings

Things escalated during a YG Family Concert.

For a special collaboration stage, you were paired with G-Dragon for a remix of one of his solo songs.

Rehearsals were fun—he was playful, always finding ways to make you laugh. He’d tease you about your dance moves, challenge you to freestyle battles, and even joke about how you were too serious about nailing the performance.

“If we mess up, just blame it on me,” he’d say. “I’m used to taking the heat.”

But when the real performance happened, the atmosphere changed.

There was something different in the way he looked at you under the stage lights, the way his hand lingered on your waist a second too long, the way your voices blended effortlessly.

Fans noticed. Your members noticed. Even YG himself raised an eyebrow.

And after the show, when you found yourselves alone in the hallway, catching your breath, Jiyong simply looked at you and smirked.

“That was fun.”

You exhaled, still processing everything. “Yeah… it was.”

He tilted his head. “You’re thinking too much again.”

You shot him a look. “You always say that.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Because it’s true.”

And just like that, he walked off, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding.

Late-Night Conversations & Quiet Confessions

The more time passed, the more stolen moments you two shared.

Late-night studio visits where he’d play you unreleased tracks and ask for your opinion. Messages exchanged between busy schedules. Inside jokes whispered during interviews.

One night, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, you found yourself on the YG rooftop, staring at the city skyline. The air was cool, and without thinking, he draped his jacket over your shoulders.

“You ever think about what comes after all this?” he asked.

You glanced at him. “Sometimes. But I don’t know if I want to imagine a future without music.”

He smiled, nodding. “Same. But lately… I think I’d want a future with someone who understands it, too.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe he wasn’t just talking about music anymore.

The Beginning of Something More

There was no dramatic confession. No grand gestures.

Just stolen glances, quiet conversations, and a slow realization that somewhere along the way, between concerts, award shows, and late-night talks, you had fallen for each other.

And maybe—just maybe—he had fallen first.

#kpop #x reader #kpop idol!reader #gd x reader #gdragon #gdragon x reader #2ne1 #top bigbang #bigbang x reader #bigbang #bigbang g dragon #daesung x reader #daesung #bigbang fluff #taeyang #fluff #riikoshi

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dangerpronebuddie · 18 hours ago

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For the fic prompts - #39 for buddie?

I am so sorry this took me so long! 😭 Maybe these dorks will help you forgive me? 😁🩷

“This is more embarrassing than the time I fell down the stairs at the observatory,” Eddie’s patient, Maria, says with a self-deprecating laugh, watching as Eddie bandages her sprained wrist. In terms of embarrassing moments, a slip by the pool doesn't even make top thirty in the list of calls Eddie has seen. “My partner loves taking the kid there,” Eddie says in an effort to ease her embarrassment, realizing how the words sound a little too late. Buck's head snaps to him. Eddie resolutely does not look at him. “It’s so cute watching them geek out together, isn't it?” Maria smiles, a lovestruck look Eddie knows he wears regularly. “Yeah,” he agrees, recalling the many times Buck and Chris have returned home, excitedly discussing what they saw. “The gift shop bill, I could do without though.” “You try saying no to Chris' puppy eyes!” Buck protests. Maria chuckles. “Tell me about it. Axel has an entire shelf in his room of things he and his dad buy.” Eddie finishes bandaging Maria's hand and smiles. “I once came home to the entire dining table covered in stuff they bought.” “Again. Chris’ puppy eyes are my weakness! They're worse than your Bambi eyes,” Buck huffs good naturedly. Maria smiles at them. “Your partner?” Eddie clears his throat and Buck ducks his head. Eddie manages to smile and gives Maria care instructions for her hand and she thanks him before wandering away to find her family. Eddie can feel Buck staring at him. “Eddie,” he says slowly. “I know, I… slip of the tongue, that's all,” he waves off. “You… didn't correct yourself,” Buck points out, his voice carefully neutral. “I'm sorry,” Eddie says with a helpless shrug, “I forgot I was a single parent! But we kept talking and it… It felt so nice to act like…” “Like… what?” Buck persists. “Like you really were mine.” It sounds pathetic, and it is, but the warmth in his chest is worth it. To pretend, just for a moment, that he isn't living an almost of a life he really wants. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice shaking. “I know,” Eddie says, zipping up the med bag. “We'll just… forget it, okay?” “I don't want to forget it,” Buck says, takes Eddie's hand before he can grab the bag and make a run for the engine. “I want to be yours.” Eddie looks at him so fast he thinks he gives himself whiplash. “You do?” Buck smiles and tugs Eddie closer. “I do. I have since… probably since you let me step inside with you; let me be your partner. On the job and at home.” Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been rendered speechless before. Trust Buck to be the one to do it. He’s dreamt of how he’d tell Buck for years. Now he can’t seem to find the words. Instead, he takes hold of Buck’s turnouts and tugs him closer. “I love you,” he says softly, watches as a wide grin spreads across Buck’s face. “I love you too,” Buck says, and if Eddie wasn't clinging to his turnouts, he might just float away. Buck leans in with Eddie, cupping his cheek. The engine horn has them jumping apart. “Be disgusting later!” Chim yells, his head out the window. “No!” Buck yells back before dipping Eddie dramatically and kissing him senseless.

Send me a number!

#linus-lucy #911 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #fanfic #buddie drabble #maggie writes

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tsuyalovebot · 2 days ago

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ur writing is insane, i love it sm!!!

any thoughts on caleb with a biiiit of a gentle— soft ‘daddy’ persona? 😼

hello! first of all, thank you so much! i'm really happy knowing that the way i write for caleb is well received :] second, i am SO sorry this took so long to get out, i didn't even notice i had this in my inbox (; ; )

for caleb though, i can definitely see that coming to life. he's got a parental vibe to the way he nurtures mc. to look at it one way, our caleb right now feels very brotherly. a lot of it has to do with their banter and how he treats mc. another way of seeing him is when he's the colonel. very commanding, no questions asked, expectant, and domineering. i feel like a soft daddy persona would fall between those two. he doesn't need to be excessively stern, but he toes that line instead.

i don't know if i'm envisioning him correctly (i have never written for this specific persona before, and i don't often consume mentioned persona either). but here's my take nonnie!

most of the stuff caleb says and does comes off as nagging in the eyes of mc. he'd have to establish some sense of quiet authority over you to shift the narrative. making you feel protected and taken care of. maybe he cuts back a bit on the teasing from time to time, and whenever you start to edge into an argument (hah), it's then that i imagine he takes control of it. he did it before, surely; instances of him treating you a parent would their child. it kind of leaves you a bit more meek. not as resistant.

you'd cross the line in one way or another. he was trying hard to not really go too far — it wasn't that big of a deal, it was simply about your tendency to come home late when visiting skyhaven. but, the words leave you with such startling sharpness that it leaves the both of you reeling. and you watch, in real time, as caleb slips and slides from your fingertips.

"you know you were wrong to say that, right?" he starts. nothing gives away any sign of anger, irritation, nor vexation. the words come out measured.

he isn't chastising you. not yet.

and you know you were wrong, you knew that saying that obviously wasn't the smartest decision on your part. and yet, the bitter phrases still left you with ease. he's watching you now, expectant.

you're quiet. he notices.

"i'm not mad," he says, voice softer now. from where he's standing, he's tall and looming and pressuring. but with every tentative step taken toward you, subtracting the distance separating your bodies, there's nothing intimidating.

his hands find yours, tightly clasped on your lap. each digit that was wringing itself slowly undid the curl, the tight clasp. the expertise in his manner of undoing you was methodical.

"but you gotta be kinder, you know that." the assurance comes in a subtle form of advice, not at all suffocating. and yet you're nodding along with his words, letting him pull, wind you up in his arms, and sway side to side.

it's oddly soothing. you can't really curse at him like this, not that you'd try.

"so well-behaved. that's it."

your face buried in his chest in silent apology, his lips on your hair. when he uses his fingers to hold your chin and experimentally move your head, you don't resist, looking up at him. you don't know when you started looking for approval in those quietly commanding eyes of his.

"good. that's good," he whispers, smiling.

you blurt the words on instinct. "i'm sorry."

he hums. "you're forgiven. you gonna do it again?"

"no."

his smile widens, and he leans down. when he kisses you, it's slow. methodical. and you're like melted butter in those few seconds, even as he's settling the two of you down onto the couch. you're on his lap and kissing him, barely catching how he murmurs, "i know you won't."

#hope this is what you were asking for!#:]#mimi.inbox #mimi.writes #caleb x reader

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 day ago

Text

You're the Only Girl For Me - Chapter 33

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Character List

September 4th 2021

Airielle jumped as Josh got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. She could feel Mercedes, Bianca, and Trin looking at her but kept her eyes lowered as she climbed out of the car.

She felt like shit for accusing him of lying but there was no way Yara and Raymond would go through all that work to change the date of a video. Given, Airielle and Josh weren’t together but he also said that the only time he fucked her was at his apartment and that video definitely wasn’t at his apartment.

When she entered the hotel lobby Josh was waiting for her by the elevator with a pair of her slippers. She didn’t even notice them when he got out of the car earlier. “Thank you.” She whispered as he bent down to help her take off her boots.

“C’mon Rih, I'm tired,” Josh mumbled as he stood up and held his hand out for her. She shook her head and stepped back.

“I think I’m going to stay with Trin and Jon tonight.” She said then looked over at Trinity who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Can I stay with y’all tonight?”

“Oh, uh…” Trinity trailed off between Josh and Airelle. Josh's jaw was clenched tight as he damn near stared a hole in the side of Airielle’s face.

“Airielle -”

“Josh I can’t okay? You’re angry and…” She paused and took a deep breath as an image of Christopher hitting her every single time he was angry at her came flashing in her mind. “I just can’t”

Josh’s features softened as he noticed how her hands were shaking. He took a step closer to Airielle. “Rih, you know I’d never put my hands on you. No matter how angry I am.” His voice was low and sincere, his eyes locking with hers as he spoke as if to remind her that she was safe with him. Airielle closed her eyes and nodded her head. She knew Josh would never lay a hand on her in that way but… she was still shaken. Christopher was still lurking around and her mother had shown up out of the blue. Airielle didn’t even know if she was in the right state of mind to make any decisions tonight.

“Okay.” Josh sighed, “You want me to bring your bag over there?”

Airielle nodded and walked up to him. He immediately took her into his arms. “I’m sorry.” She whispered into his chest. He said nothing, just held onto her tighter.

“I’ll bring your stuff over.” He gave her one last longing look before pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. As the elevator doors closed, he refused to make eye contact with her. Airielle sighed and looked over at Trinity who gave her a small smile.

“It's gonna be okay friend.”

“You think I’m being stupid don’t you?” Airielle and Trinity sat on the balcony of Trinity and Jon’s hotel room, sharing a bottle of wine.

Trinity sighed and sat her wine glass down. “Yes and No, You went through some traumatic ass shit and you haven’t really talked about it. But, Josh isn’t like Chris and I think you know this. He would never put his hands on you.”

Airielle remained silent as she pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them. “I don’t want to lose him Trin.”

Trinity scoffed and set her wine glass down. She turned so she was facing Airielle. “Girl, look at me.” Airielle sighed and lifted her head to look at Trinity. “That man loves you, sis. You could spit in his face and he would forgive you five seconds later.”

“So what should I do?”

Trinity huffed. “Girl.. go back to your room and apologize to your man. Like you told me the video was before y’all got back together and you don’t even know if they actually fucked. He was open and honest about the Tracy situation, why do you think he would lie to you now?”

Airielle sighed and threw back the rest of her wine. She knew Trin was right. Josh had gone above and beyond to prove the lies Tracy had spewed were false so if he did sleep with Yara more than once, why would he lie about it?

“What if -”

“There are no what ifs” Trinity cut her off. “You have been through a lot when it comes to men and trusting them but Josh has been nothing but open with you. And if you're going to make this work, you have to let go of the past.”

Josh awoke from his sleep at the sound of the hotel door being opened and closed. He hopped up from the bed ready to defend himself until he saw Airielle shuffle into the room. He watched as she set her duffle bag and suitcase down by the entrance. He let out a sigh and sat back down on the bed. He looked at the alarm clock that was situated on the end table. It read 3:30 am. He had just closed his eyes about 10 minutes ago.

“Wassup Rih?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep. “I thought you were sleeping in Jon’s room tonight.”

“I was.” She replied softly after a moment of silence. She cleared her throat and shuffled closer to the bed. “I talked with Trinity and she made me see how wrong I was - am,” Josh said nothing and Airielle could feel his stare on her. Airielle hesitated for a moment, the weight of his silence hanging heavily in the air. She had come here to make things right, but now that she was standing in front of him, the words felt harder to say.

“Airielle” He started but she quickly shook her head and cut him off.

“No please let me… just.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, finally bringing her eyes up from the carpet to look at him. He was still staring at her, what shocked her was how soft his eyes were, there was no indication that he was pissed with her. He was looking at her like he always did, his eyes were full of love and understanding and it made Airielle feel worse.

“I’ve been pushing you away since Abigail came back and… I know I hurt you and it wasn’t my intention. Earlier at the bar, I uh, when Raymond showed me that video I saw it as a way out. A way that would justify me running away and I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Josh said immediately. “We both did some shit to hurt the other person but let this be the last time Rih. I don’t know how much more I can take.” Josh exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I don’t want to give up on us, Rih. But I need to know that you’re in this with me, fully. No more pushing, no more walls between us. We’ve both got things to work on, but we can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m here.” She said and she climbed onto the bed. “I’m in this, all the way. I don’t want to keep shutting you out. I want to be with you—fully with you. I don’t want to lose you.” Josh opened up his arms and Airielle immediately shuffled over to him. When she finally curled into him, he let out a small, relieved breath, pulling her close and holding her against his chest.

“You not gon lose me Rih. Just let me be there for you. No more running, no more pushing me away.”

Airielle nodded against his chest. Her tears ran down her face and onto his bare chest. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said again, crying harder into his chest. I can't lose you.”

It was like a light went off in Josh’s head. Airielle needed reassurance. She needed to feel secure in his love, to know, without a doubt, that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. He knew he played a part in her insecurities with the whole Yara situation.

He gently tilted her head up so she was looking at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. His voice was soft, but firm, the kind of voice that carried a sense of resolve.

“You’re not gonna lose me, Rih. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’ve been through too much to just throw it all away. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you. Always. You’re my person, and I’m not giving up on us. Not now, not ever. I love you”

“I love you too.” She whispered back and Josh smiled. He maneuvered them so they were lying down and she was still cuddled into his arms.

“Next time you want some space from me, don’t go to Jon’s he already texted my phone talking bout he gon have two baddies in his bed tonight.” Airielle couldn't help but burst into laughter at his words, her head still resting on his chest. She lifted her gaze to meet his, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Was so close to going over there and dragging you back here.”

She rolled her eyes with a giggle and leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” She said as she pulled away. “For giving me another chance.”

Josh’s smile softened, his eyes looking at her with a mix of warmth and sincerity. He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her again, this time deeper and more lingering.

“You don’t gotta thank me” he murmured against her lips, his voice steady and sure. “I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Authors Note: Omg.. look at them 🥹. So proud of Airiellle.

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @empressdede

@harmshake @paigereeder @li-da-savage @nbanenefrmdao @theninthwonder

@raya-hunter01 @abadbitchblogs @jaethaone @mzv11 @shantinextdoor

@sadnni @Xmonetsworld @bebesobrielo @kill-the-artiste @Yana3sworld

@bookuce @sageispunk @amandairene88 @rianasixx @vebner37

@mindairy @saintaquarius @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @sayyestoheav3nn

@xbriexx @princess-saki1 @kat3457 @queeny23 @rebelrel0987

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @fearlesschimera @mselenalovebug

#wwe #jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black reader #jey uso imagine #wwe x reader #wwe x black reader #wwe x black oc #wwe fanfiction

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reminiscentreader · 2 days ago

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I FEEL LIKE IT SBEEN SOOO LOMG SINCE I HAD A TIG RANT AND I HAVE TWO THINGS I WANNA TALK ABOUT SO IM JUST GONNA DUMP THEM INTO ONE POST 😽 ok firstly i feel like we did not get enough details about emilys death, like i had so many questions, did grayson call the ambulance? did he have to drag her back to hawthorne house? what was the funeral like? did grayson finish school properly? what was rebeccas reaction? the brothers (other than jameson and grayson)? why didnt jameson tell grayson he was there that night until almost two years later? why didnt the old cunt think it was ok to tell a teenage boy whos girlfriend JUST died that it was his fault for not putting family first?!? LIKE WHAT I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

next thing is kind of like two different things but theyre both about lyras parents so like they’re basically the same?? anway first, I NEED A WHOLE BOOK ON LYRAS MOM !! shes so mysterious, like she meets this rando guy who isnt from america dates him (because it wasnt like a one night thing its heavily implied that they had a whole relationship) gets pregnant super young (not confirmed but pretty obvious considering she has a four year old and i know damn well there aint no 50 year old popping out a baby, so id peg her at around 35-40, she kinda millennial vibes anyway) while she’s pregnant her boyfriend is running around tryna be some kind of businessman (“bro trust im an entrepreneur” vibes cant lie) AND THEN JUST LEAVES HIM 3 DAYS AFTER HER BABIES BORN?!? and then just gets married to daddy kane like what?!? (p.s i have a theory that the reason thomas called lyra lie-ra instead of ‘leer-a’ is because that WAS her name, but her mom changed how it was pronounced)

so that leads me nicely onto KEITH KANE 😩😩😩🙏🙏🙏 i just know this man is SOOOO FINE like call me crazy but i am that mans number one fan because he is actually just so perfect, LIKE WDYM HE TOOK IN A PROBABLY TEENAGER AND HER BABY AND RAISED THAT CHILD LIKE SHE WAS HIS 🤭🤭 and then adopted her??? like he gives such john kavanangh vibes if any of you have read boys of tommen

anyway sorry for the long post love you all 🥰🥰🥰😽

#the hawthorne legacy #nash hawthorne #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #the inheritance games #xander hawthorne #the grandest game #lyra kane

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starrysan · 2 days ago

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nouvelle vague

↳ ᴘᴜᴇʙʟᴏ [15]

masterlist || prev chap || next chap

pairing: korea local!yunho x new to city!reader [smau]

a/n: this ones sad.. sorry, not proofread

2nd person pov

after the long meeting with her boss and some agents from the other branches on a zoom call right after, you were exhausted. laying on your bed and scrolling on your phone. it was barely 3pm. you still weren't 100% sure what to do, but you had an idea. you called the only person you knew to call. "chris? you're still up?" you ask to which you get a slightly sleepy but awake chris answer.

"yeah I am what's up?." of course he was up.. typical crazy hours of the night awake chris bahng. "I think.. I know where im going to pick" you say closing your eyes to make sure this was the right decision. "oh that's grea-" he starts to say. "im coming home" you say before he could finish his own sentence. "oh that's great y/n" he replies after a moment of silence on his end. "you don't sound as happy as I thought you'd be" you reply. "well I am excited I promise. I just.. are you sure?"

"I thought it through and.. yeah im coming home chris" you say again. "I miss you a lot and.. as much as I know you won't admit it, I know you're struggling chris.. lix called me last night" chris curses slightly away from his speaker so you couldn't hear it but you obviously could. "what'd he say?" chris asks. "I mean a lot but basically what we talked about the other day. chris you know you don't have to hide anything from me"

"I know y/n but I know you love Korea.. it's all you talked about for the past year. are you sure you're making the right choice?" he asks, almost a bit nervously. "I had a lot of time to think.. and yeah I do. some things that happened only confirmed it. but anyway, I'm coming home flights in 2 days so I've got to pack. bye chris"

you hang up the phone and stare at your empty suitcases in front of you. or.. one slightly packed suitcase and 2 empty ones. you almost second guess yourself but stop your thoughts before going to start packing your things. you go easy packing clothes first. luckily it was still summer. no heavy jackets to pack.

you put in your shirts, pants, the skirt you wore when you first met san.. the pants yeosang and mingi insisted you bought. they were a strange shade of pink you'd never wear, but looking at them now, they were almost endearing. you finished packing most of your clothes before packing other things you brought or bought while in Korea.

you put in your polaroid camera. not before looking through all the photos you'd taken on them. the first photo you took with wooyoung and jongho after they picked you up, the street food with yeosang and mingi, han river and ice cream with san, ducks and the pretty picnic you had with seonghwa and hongjoong, seoul tower with yunho and san, the beach with yunho.. oh and of course how could you forget? the lock you had bought hoping to put it up with yunho.

you feel a tear drop onto the lock you grasped in your hand. "fuck" you mutter, wiping it away with your sleeve. you put it in your bag as well before covering it with some plushie mingi had bought you from a store in myeongdong. you were making the right choice. at least you thought you were. it was too late to think a coherent thought anyway.

fucking yunho. you think to yourself as you finished packing the second suitcase. you think about the kiss he so casually left on your cheek. like it was still there. it was like it stung your face. like a memory you only slightly wanted to get rid of. you didn't even realize how exhausted you were as you fall asleep on your packed bag and only wake up when you see your friends through the ring camera. shit your friends.. you didn't even tell them...

you quickly buzz them up, and panic slightly. what would you do? how would you tell them? what would they say? what if they hated you after? your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell which you stood up to go answer. "hi guys" you say quietly as the seven boys pile in. they notice your bags on the floor.

"so what'd you decide to do?" wooyoung asks, breaking the silence first as they were all either at your table, on the floor, or on your bed. "I-" you start. but your mouth goes dry, you lose your words, you forget how to fucking speak. even though they said this was your choice, which it was, you still felt so fucking guilty for leaving them.

but chris- you didn't know what to do not like you had a choice anyway as your passport sat on the table with your boarding pass you had printed earlier that morning nestled inside it. it seemed to go unnoticed by the boys at first till- "ah.. back to Aussie Australia?" mingi said, trying to make you laugh when he saw the look on your face.

"um.. yeah back to-" your voice broke.. you couldn't even say it out loud as you feel your tears start back up again. "Im sorry" you said. you didn't even know what you were apologizing for. going home? for crying and absolutely falling apart in front of them? for not telling them till now? you didn't know.

seonghwa gets up from the floor and hugs you first. you two weren't as close as say you and wooyoung and jongho were but that hug alone was comfort enough. you cling onto his arms like he would vanish if you let go and sobbed into his shirt. probably drenching it but you didn't even care. the rest followed close behind. even jongho who you knew hated physical contact was joined in on the hug.

after you calmed down a bit and got some water yeosang grabbed from your fridge you sit back down and collect yourself. "yeah i'm going back I think seeing how everything's going to play out I think its my best option" the boys nodded. no one said anything not really sure what to say anyway. "if that's what you have to do then its what you have to do." yeosang says. "when's your flight?" san asked. "tomorrow" you say quietly.

"TOMORROW?" wooyoung practically yells which you nod. "but we cant even have a goodbye party or anything?!" mingi exclaims after. "its ok" you say simply. "its not goodbye.. its see you later" you say to which jongho side eyes you. "cringe as hell" he says and you laugh. you laugh for the first time in 4 days.

"did you tell yunho?" san asked which made the room go silent again. "I tried texting.. and calling he never responded" you sighed. maybe it was for the better? you didn't want to think about it. the yunho topic was soon glazed over as everyone helped you pack before leaving in the late hours of the night everyone giving you hugs and saying goodbye one by one. "don't crash the plane" jongho says to which you laugh and flick his forehead.

your left in silence once again as the clock strikes 1:30am. your flight was for 10am. wooyoung insisted he drove you but you declined, not wanting him to mess up his sleep schedule even more. you try to get sleep which barely worked and you were out the door by 7:30am.

you put your house key in a box in your landlord's office, thanking him before you start your walk to the subway to get to the airport. before you could comprehend what was happening, yunho appeared infront of you, looking absolutely out of breath. "yunho?" you say confused.

extras!

I honestly dont like writing in anything pov other than 3rd but I did this in 2nd person pov very deliberately so it wasn't in third person where you're just watching this unfold from the outside, or 1st person where you're in it, its in 2nd person where its like you're right there but you cant change anything about it. (I love deliberate storytelling mwahaha).

ty for reading!

pls fill out the taglist form if you'd like to be added <3

taglist: @mimikittysblog @matchahintonagar @crownj1min @katsukis1wife @staytinyluv @ffenjoyerdazme @soupbinlily @ateezswonderland @yvnhoos @yunniverse @linearities @kattarrynnka @dalsuwaha @coffeewwithdrawlheadaches @spenceatiny18 @wonderz-real @akunoeyebrows @imogenlovess @mystic-megumi @xh01bri @sparda1234 @wooyoungsbrat @cryplnk @cosmicrecs @peraltasvibe @lcvejjooong @istansquirrels @ocean-minho @hanjiyunho @juicyjaxxy

#starrysan #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smau #yunho #yunho ateez #yunho imagines #yunho x reader #yunho fic #jeong yunho

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getaapologist · 3 days ago

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The Tension and the Terror............Part XIV

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length)

Summary: With everything so precarious, Macrinus feels the tension in the palace. A sign from the gods steers him to the conclusion of this long, protracted series of events.

Warnings: violence, death, 18+ only.

Word Count: 4.2k

Part 14 of 15 (I'm sorry)

[ Part XIII ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: Okay, here it is. I did the best I could with the hole I'd written myself into. I hope you enjoy it. The end might feel final, but we still have another part after this where we get some more much-needed closure. Thank you for following me on this ride.

Geta reclined in his chair, watching the spectacle, isolated, all sound missing his ear. The food tasted like nothing, his head swam, the wine serving as his only comfort. Even Caracalla had retired early, clutching a plate of treats for Dondus. When his boredom grew to a suffocating level, he rose from his seat, coldly dismissing their guests.

He could feel their stares, could still hear the mutterings in the arena that afternoon.

A moment of weakness. One he would not suffer from again. He’d promised Macrinus as much. Which was why he’d sent him to retrieve his weakness so she could be dealt with once and for all. How he would do that, he had no clue.

Macrinus had appeared almost anxious after Caracalla’s man took Plautianus down. Flighty and on edge, he carried himself with less grace than usual. He openly watched the guards standing around the Emperors, keeping himself aware of where they were and when they came and went.

Geta was beginning to realize he’d killed an innocent man.

Before the grief of his stupidity could wash over him, the man himself reappeared, glancing around at the abandoned seats, servants already moving in to clear tables and any other flat surface used as one. He kept his commentary to himself and approached Geta.

“Geta, she is gone,” Macrinus spoke, true concern in his voice. It was the most agitated he had ever seen the man.

“Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

Macrinus grew uncharacteristically frustrated. “She was not in her cell. Viggo could not tell me what happened.”

“You seem to surround yourself with incompetence,” Geta commented, his wine dulling his desire to maintain a friendship with this man he no longer trusted.

Macrinus’s eyes flashed for a moment before he corrected himself. “They were given a delivery of wine, your majesty,” he explained. “From the Emperors. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

Geta relished the way the man seemed to be coming apart at the seams, his perfectly tailored persona cracking just a bit under the pressure.

“No, but I believe it is customary. To repay the effort spent in readying the prisoners.” Gets finished his glass, setting it down on the table. “Are your men looking for her?”

“As we speak,” Macrinus confirmed.

Geta wasn’t even particularly mad Letha might have escaped. If she meant what she said, was as good as Caracalla seemed to believe, she wouldn’t be returning to collect. She would disappear. He might never see her again.

That was what bothered him.

More than bothered him. Filled him with despair. Every second was another opportunity to wallow in that grief. Wine.

“Where is Emperor Caracalla?” Macrinus asked.

Geta waved him off. “Probably with his concubines, having a much more entertaining evening than I. Besides, what does it matter?”

“If he sent the wine–”

“A customary gift,” Geta reminded him, growing irritated.

“I do believe it was hand-delivered, by that Praetorian always at your brother’s side.”

“Ancus?” Geta laughed. “Yes, well I will instruct that he stick even closer to my brother. No more excursions.”

“That is not what I–”

“Enough, Macrinus. I am tired. You ought to get some rest yourself, it’s been a long day.”

Geta stood and walked away through the eerily quiet hall, wondering if he’d live through the night. He would ask someone to fetch Tegula. He could sit in his study with his best men, to make sure no one got through to his bedchamber.

As he entered his chambers, stripped the day from his skin, and sank into his bed, he realized just how much he missed Letha. He missed the hope she brought him. The possibility of a life steeped in warmth and love. But it had been ripped away just as quickly as it had taken root, and the agony of that still consumed his waking thoughts.

Maybe she escaped the city. He tried to imagine where she might go, with nothing to her name and no family that he knew of left to find. He could picture her so vividly, cycling through the innumerable times he looked at her long enough to memorize the expression on her face.

She had so willingly accepted her fate, resigned herself to death. It was him that put her in that position in the first place. Her death would surely have shattered what bit of his sanity remained. He did not think of consequence when he ordered the fight to end. He could feel his blood racing through his ears, could hear each beat. It was what she was owed. A life for a life. He hoped she would use it well.

He fell asleep clutching a pillow that still bore some scent of the oil she’d brushed through her hair. Jasmine.

Macrinus paced. And paced. And paced. He could see the hallway that led to the Emperors’ rooms. What he was waiting for, he hated putting words to. To have to admit it, even if only to himself, it was just another indignance dealt by Letha. One he would rise above, once he worked up the nerve.

He was suffering her loss. For all his threatening and scheming, he realized quite quickly he wasn’t cut out for this direct involvement. He needed a new agent, but lacked the connections while stuck inside the palace. He felt the Praetorians watching his every step, could feel the heavy scrutiny from Caracalla at every mealtime.

It shouldn’t be so difficult, he agonized. If Letha could do it, so can I.

With renewed purpose, Macrinus strode down the hall, thinking of what he could say if caught. Before he got more than a few steps down the hall, one of the doors opened. He tucked himself behind a column, beside a bust of Caracalla. He peered around the edge of the column and watched.

Someone wearing an elaborate cloak, complete with a hood, stepped out into the hallway, followed by a guard.

Ancus.

“You ought to stay here,” the figure spoke. Her voice was low, hardly a whisper. “I know where it is.”

“You will need someone to check if anyone is there,” Ancus retorted, concerned.

“You said he is sleeping, yes?” she questioned, glancing down the hallway. She turned, about to look in Macrinus’s direction. He tucked himself flush with the wall, out of sight. He could only listen now.

“Yes,” Ancus confirmed. “Tegula is watching over him.”

“Then I will be only a moment. Do not leave Caracalla unattended with that snake about.”

Macrinus’s blood ran cold.

Letha.

By the time he could hear footsteps retreating, she had already turned the corner, heading deeper into the Emperors’ wing of the palace.

Letha was in the palace. Kept hidden by Caracalla. And Geta didn’t know.

Macrinus felt a weightlessness settle just above his shoulders. Fresh, delicious surprise and hope sprang forth. He hardly resisted the urge to laugh at this fortuitous turn of events. The gods smiled on him in his hour of need.

As he strode away to his chambers, he was already putting together ideas.

Yesterday Morning

“I think I like this one best,” Caracalla commented. He turned to Ancus. “Ancus, what do you think?”

The guard raised his eyebrows, looking over the tunic his emperor held up. “I-I do think it brings out your eyes, Imperator.”

That drew a smile from the smaller twin, and he stared down at the garment. After a moment of thought, Caracalla approached the servant, holding the outfit out for them to take so he could be dressed in it.

“Do I have your loyalty, Ancus?” Caracalla called out.

Ancus turned his back to his Emperor, pulling at some of his armor. “Of course, Emperor.”

“You will not speak of this to anyone, even Tegula? Or my brother?”

Ancus glanced over his shoulder, concerned, but he didn’t let his eyes focus on anything in particular. “If you will it.”

“Leave us,” Caracalla muttered.

Ancus waited until the servant left the room to turn and set eyes upon his Emperor. The color did brighten his eyes.

“I intend to save my brother from himself,” Caracalla explained.

“How?”

Caracalla approached a small table. He opened a drawer and produced a linen-wrapped object, setting it in Ancus’s larger hands.

“We start with this.”

As Ancus realized the genius of Caracalla, he couldn’t help his smile.

“You will help me, Ancus?”

“With anything.”

Later that day

“Letha?” The voice was soft, uncertain.

She looked up, more than a little shocked to make out the form of Caracalla standing outside the cell in the dark, Ancus dutifully holding a torch up behind him.

“Caracalla?”

He approached, clinging to the bars of the cell, his jewelry clinking against the rusted metal. “How is your arm?”

She didn’t spare it a glance. “What are you doing here? Where is–”

“My brother is not well.”

Her fear returned, quick as lightning. “What’s happened? Did Macrinus–”

“He’s heartbroken,” Caracalla interrupted. “You, that’s what happened,” he frowned.

Letha moved to Caracalla, her dirty hands covering his on the bars. He didn’t draw back. “Tell him I’m sorry,” she pleaded.

“Would you have done it?” Caracalla asked. “Really?”

She shook her head. “No. I… I couldn’t have.”

“And it wasn’t Thraex’s doing, was it?”

She frowned. “No.” He didn’t seem to need to be told who was truly responsible.

He studied her in the torchlight, mulling things over. Finally, he pulled his hands out from under hers, taking a step back away from the door, closer to Ancus.

“I’m an Emperor too,” he announced, “and I require your presence. Your sentence is vacated by the order of Marcus Aurelius Severus Antoninus Augustus. The door, Ancus,” Caracalla ordered, beaming.

Ancus stepped forward, a slight smile tugging at his lips at Caracalla’s display.

Letha released the metal, stepping back away from the door, uncertainty swimming in her gut. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as Ancus unlocked the cell door, pulling it open, leaving it open for her to step out of, free.

“Come back with us. You can stay in my rooms until my brother is less… volatile.”

“He’s angry?” she asked, thinking back to the way he’d looked at her with blazing eyes. Should she be fearful?

“He can’t get over your betrayal, Letha,” Caracalla sighed. “He’s lost a bit of himself. It’s a bit ironic, right? Me trying to look after him?” He let the question hang in the air, but he didn’t need an answer from her, just giggling to himself. “Let’s go. Dondus will be delighted to see you.”

Letha felt touched by Caracalla’s faith in her as he grabbed her hand, tugging her along beside him as he left the cavernous depths where she’d been kept, Ancus following behind.

The next morning, Geta didn’t want to leave his bed. It was an ordeal for his servants to get him up and dressed. There were still more games to attend, more people to meet, and dinner parties to host. He didn’t understand how he was expected to return to the normalcy of their life with all of it so fresh.

His thoughts drifted to Letha. The one stolen night. The happiest he’d been in years. He could pretend she waited for him in his rooms to get him through the day. As he sat and forced food and drink down his throat at Caracalla’s nagging, as he watched men fight for glory in the arena, as if he hadn’t just seen his love almost meet her end in the exact same spot. And even now, guests dwindling, as he was forced to paste on a smile with some of the senators, the play-by-play of the day’s fight boring him nearly to tears, he thought of Letha.

“Excuse me,” Geta muttered, abandoning the glass in his hand on the nearest table before heading to his rooms for a moment of peace.

As he passed Caracalla’s door, he heard a laugh that stopped him dead in his tracks. In a split second he was back in the box, the first day of the games. His eyes lifted just the same, but a door was all that greeted him. Before he could convince himself his sanity was slipping, he knocked loudly.

A few seconds passed, long ones. Geta heard rustling, but not much else.

“Yes?” It was Ancus.

“Can I come in to speak with my brother?” Geta asked, his stomach in knots.

After a moment the door was opened, and Caracalla stepped out, the shreds of a smile still on his face and in his eyes. “Yes, brother?”

“You have guests?” Geta questioned, his voice strained from lack of use and the nerves burning his throat.

Caracalla stared at him before falling into one of his usual giggles. “Just, you know, my usual attendants.”

“I heard a woman’s laughter,” Geta accused.

A flicker of concern was overridden by sympathy. “Hearing ghosts, brother?”

Geta scowled, waving off his brother’s concern. “Nevermind.”

“Are you alright?” Caracalla asked, a hand on his brother’s arm.

“Just perfect,” Geta ground out before turning and heading back to the party. There wouldn’t be enough wine to get him to forget this.

Macrinus watched Geta return to the party, his troubled state much more obvious. As he downed a glass of wine and requested another, Macrinus knew this was his opportunity.

“That was close,” Caracalla sighed, looking up to where Letha was currently stepping out from behind a large curtain panel, her face drawn. “He was so sure it was you.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“It was in his eyes.”

Letha nodded, sitting on the edge of Caracalla’s unmade bed. “Is it still too soon to tell him?”

“While Macrinus still stays here you are in too much danger,” Ancus spoke up, scratching at his jaw. “He’s supposed to leave once the games are over.”

Letha thought it was amusing how Caracalla and the Praetorian he’d dismissed so readily had truly bonded. There was a glimmer in the Emperor’s eyes as he looked up at his guard. It relieved her to see him happy like this. And Letha did not miss the flush that filled the cheeks of the man anytime Caracalla paid him specific attention.

Oh, Ancus.

The Emperors truly were magnetic.

A small part of Letha wanted to ignore their advice and storm out of Caracalla’s rooms in search of his brother, but she understood their hesitance. And she truly believed her reappearance would not be met with joy. She wasn’t sure she wanted to feel that agony so soon.

“Well, I need to go out and show my face some more, but we’ll be back in a bit. Keep Dondus company for me.”

“I will, Caracalla,” Letha promised, looking down at the small monkey pulling at her dress. “We’ll have our own party, right Dondus?” She got a squeak in return as he climbed to her shoulder.

Geta walked further into the gardens, another night coming to a close, the day weathered by some miracle. He wasn’t drunk, just comfortable, warm. He could allow himself this, now that their guests were gone. His feet led him, no destination in mind. Still, tragically, that jasmine-smothered statue came into view and he took another long sip of his wine to try to swallow down the confusing slurry of emotions.

He found himself leaned back against it once again, trying to remember, wishing he could have done something to help her. If she’d just trusted him enough to tell him, he would have protected her. He would have shielded her from Macrinus, he wouldn’t have told another soul, his selfishness overriding duty.

He pressed his own palm to his chest, over his heart, his eyes closing to avoid the welling of emotion, the pressure behind his eyes, the knot in his throat.

“Brother?”

Geta stood up straight, shaking off his melancholy. “‘Calla?” He spotted his brother as he walked over, saw Ancus lingering by the stairs, a good distance away.

“You look sad.”

Geta scoffed. That wasn’t the half of it. “It’s fine.”

“You haven’t been yourself lately.”

It irked Geta that he wasn’t allowed to feel the wealth of emotions in his chest without someone having something to say about it. Everyone else was allowed their moods and frustration, but if he felt something so strongly… He felt like he wasn’t being allowed to mourn. Because that’s what it was, mourning.

“Emperors, how fortuitous,” Macrinus spoke, disrupting the calm that the gardens granted.

Caracalla made no effort to mask the shift in his expression, annoyance obvious.

Geta stepped away from the statue, gesturing to Macrinus with his cup. “Something you need?”

“Oh, no,” Macrinus smiled, a return to form after stumbling through the last couple of days. “I just wanted to thank you both for your hospitality.”

Geta watched him, the relaxed lilt to his voice concerning.

Caracalla groaned in frustration. “Yes, yes,” he muttered.

The impolite response didn’t deter Macrinus, not for a moment. Geta should have known then that whatever he was about to say stood to derail the entire day. But he didn’t, instead shooting his brother a scolding look.

“I have not had the opportunity to meet your other guest. She seems to avoid parties, meals, games…”

“We have no other guest, Macrinus,” Geta explained, quite confused. He looked to Caracalla, surprised to see him clammed up. “Brother?”

“Should someone go fetch her?” Macrinus suggested, eyes fixed to Geta.

“No,” Caracalla insisted.

Geta looked to his brother, concern growing. “What did you do?”

Caracalla’s frustration grew under the intense scrutiny. “Neither of you can be trusted with her!”

Geta felt overwhelmed. There was no way. “You lied to me?” he questioned, feeling faint.

“You are not in your right mind,” Caracalla accused.

“So it is I who cannot be trusted?” He couldn’t help his frustration.

“For all we knew, you would kill her!”

The glass collided with the stone, shattering. Geta still spoke, though Caracalla paid him no attention, his eyes glued to the shards littering the grass. “You know nothing.”

At the commotion, Ancus approached, a protective hand pressed to Caracalla’s shoulder as he took in Geta’s affected state.

“Ah, here she is. The search is over, your majesties. Here is your traitor.”

Geta’s heart stopped. He felt each agonizing second it took for him to turn, to see Letha being led into the gardens, Macrinus’s man keeping a tight grip on her arms. The sight drove a spike of anxiety into his chest.

Letha didn’t struggle, she kept her eyes trained on Macrinus, wondering what was coming next.

“What a reunion,” Macrinus chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “Didn’t you have some justice to dole out, Geta?” At that, Macrinus approached Letha. A sword was produced, and Macrinus held it to her throat. “How did you put it? A weakness, to be dealt with once and for all?”

Letha’s eyes met his, and Geta felt tears coming as he took in her fearful expression, the cut across her cheek, the bruising.

“Stop,” he ordered, approaching them, his hand held out for the sword.

Macrinus leveled the sword at Geta, the flat of the blade smacking his open palm. “I don’t think so.”

Geta recoiled, withdrawing his hand.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted, gesturing between Geta and Letha. “I should have, and I have paid for that mistake, but I will not make it again.”

Geta bit back his protest as Macrinus reached over, his hand squeezing Letha’s bandaged shoulder tightly enough to bruise. The cry she let out wounded him.

“I should thank you, Caracalla,” Macrinus smiled. “Up until last night, I was so sure I’d wake up in a cell myself. But the gods have other plans for me. They sent me this solution as a sign of their unwavering support. It could not be anything else.”

“The gods do not care for you,” Letha spat. She struggled beneath Macrinus’s grip, trying to wriggle her shoulder free.

Viggo renewed his grip on her wrists, scowling at her, as Macrinus brought the sword back to her neck, a warning. She stilled.

“Ancus,” Caracalla muttered, his voice betraying his fear.

Geta felt trapped. They were all in danger, all caught off guard.

“I will tell you of my plan,” Macrinus grinned. “It’s too good not to share it. While not perfect, I do believe it is the best anyone could do in these circumstances.” He let the blade leave Letha’s neck, pacing leisurely before them. “It would seem that Letha here, having escaped, decided she would come back and finish the job,” Macrinus gestured to her with the sword tip. “Finding the two of you here in the gardens, after felling him, of course,” he gestured to Ancus, “she made quick work of you. And I, hearing the commotion as I just so happened to be passing by, came upon this grizzly scene. Fortunately for you both, I was able to avenge you. And with your last, gasping breath, you named me your successor,” he spoke, moving the sword over to press against Geta’s neck. “Go on, say it.”

Geta said nothing.

Macrinus’s grin grew, the sword pressing closer to where his neck met his shoulder, the razor sharp bite of it beginning to draw blood. Letha let out a cry, struggling with Viggo.

As Macrinus turned to ridicule Viggo, a jovial jab that he seemed to be having trouble restraining a woman, a hand gripped Macrinus’s wrist, pushing the sword away from Geta’s neck.

Macrinus whipped his head around, eyes falling to Ancus, indignation settling in on his face for only a moment before a dagger pushed through the ornate white robes he wore, sinking into his stomach, pushing the breath from his lungs. Geta’s eyes fell to the hands wrapped around the hilt, seeing his brother’s ornamental jewelry.

Geta was pushed back as Ancus stepped in to shield Caracalla, ripping the sword from Macrinus’s hands.

Still partially frozen, Geta looked over to where Letha was, or had been. His feet moved him before his brain could formulate a plan.

Letha was on the ground, struggling against Viggo, the base of her palm pushing at his chin, her other hand trying to pull his hands away from her throat. He seemed to have the strength of ten men, knowing death awaited.

Her throat burned, the pressure in her head from the buildup of blood, her circulation cut off, overwhelming. Spots filled her vision, and she wondered if this would be it, finally. She should’ve been happy, she got all her wishes. Macrinus dead, or in the process of dying, and she got to see Geta one last time. It was all she had asked for. But the desire to remain, to live, breathed life back into her muscles.

Letha abandoned her efforts to claw his hands away, instead opting to make a firm fist and punch as hard as she could into his groin. Viggo let out a choked gasp, one of his hands moving down to shield himself from further attacks, a reflex. The vice around her throat lessened and she could get some air. As Letha was able to suck in a halfway decent breath, Viggo was ripped off of her.

The unnerving sound of a fist meeting Viggo’s face filled the normally tranquil gardens. Letha sat up, surprised to see Geta leaned over her attacker, one of his knees pressing hard into Viggo’s stomach, a hand gripping his clothes while the other repeatedly punched his now-bloody face, rings and all.

Letha tamped down the satisfaction she felt, calling it relief, and moved over to Geta. She pulled at his shoulders, trying to get him to stop, telling him it was enough. He didn’t listen at first, but she pressed herself to his back, pulled his arm to her, her hand wrapping around his wrist.

“It’s done,” she soothed, inspecting his hand, seeing the bite of his rings in his own skin. It would need the attention of a healer and it would surely be swollen purple in the morning.

“Letha,” he whispered, his eyes closed as he turned his head, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, her throat still quite tender.

“Mmmh, no,” he managed, shaking his head.

“Emperors?”

Praetorians were upon them, forcing everyone apart, taking stock of the damage done to their rulers, if any. Letha stayed sitting on the ground beside Viggo, not sure what might happen next.

Before long, Tegula himself appeared, speaking with the twins, and then Ancus, who delivered a succinct version of events that included a charitable explanation that Macrinus had masterminded the entire thing, even down to Letha’s inclusion, implying that she was innocent after all.

She didn’t dare correct him, her eyes fixed on Geta where he stood. His knuckles were stripped of his rings, the healer dabbing at the small cuts. Geta winced each time, eyes falling to his injured hand for a moment before he continued watching Ancus recap their evening, as if surprised by it.

Caracalla stood beside Ancus, quite close, certainly closer than an Emperor would be to his guard, rubbing his fingers together, staring down at the blood on them with soft fascination in his eyes, his other hand still clutching the dagger. Plain, military issued, it looked like.

Letha was brought to her feet as someone inspected her neck, commenting on the redness around her throat. Geta looked over, the people and the circumstances creating a great gulf between them that he couldn’t yet ford. There would be business to attend to before she would get her chance to speak to him again.

It gave her something to look forward to.

[ Part XV ]

#emperor geta x ofc #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator 2 x reader #gladiator II x reader #joseph quinn x reader

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