#and he looks like her ex fiance so .
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sitting in the garden wondering what comes next
only by leehi / visible light by alexander harding / spring by leon wyczĂłĹkowski / the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us! by sufjan stevens / thoughtful reader by franz dvorak / 11:23 a.m. by alexander harding / oxygen by mary oliver / the four loves by c.s. lewis / darling by leehi / oda with lamp by christian krohg / try again by jaehyun, d.ear / reading by lamplight (twilight: interior) by george clausen / sophie by the altogether / dusk by charlotte ager (@ charlotteagerillustration) / the ink dark moon: love poems by ono no komachi and izumi shikibu, women of the ancient court of japan / moonlight stroll by edward henry potthast / only by leehi
#my web weaves#web weaving#space opera#unnamed couple#they may not have names yet but they've got vibes ok. and a burgeoning little story line#penni yeets her thoughts into the void#i love them very much ok#that moment when ur now-ex sweetheart/fiance sucks so much ur friend whose name u don't know#offers to marry u in front of the whole court to save ur honor#and u agree#bc. well u don't quite know why#LOOK i didn't say they were original i am taking BLATANT inspiration from the few cdramas i have seen (love like the galaxy more like free#inspiration for me)#that moment when u marry ur friend and what now? you have sworn at the altar to go thru life with him. u sit next to him in the garden.#what do u say? (one day u will say that u love him and he will say it back)
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starter for : @leg0lais
đđľđ˛ đđźđźđąđ đŽđżđ˛ đđđšđšđśđ˛đą đźđťđšđ đŻđ đľđ˛đż đđđ˛đ˝đ đłđźđżđđľ. a new territory she has reached , winnowed too far from the prythian she has once known. no , this place had a different smell. an unmatched aura. not quite as kindred to invite a high lady in. get in line. it is here where she will find another , sourcing his arrows deadly with her approach. she has no intention of moving , not even in the slightest will blue grey eyes speak of anything other than boredom. though her heart , it thunders.
qualities he'd possess she has seen within her own people. a faerie ? or perhaps , something else. elven ears . . . he was beautiful. a reminder of someone she once loved. someone she would have given everything for. " i did not expect to meet another face out here so soon. one that wasn't my mate's own. " she'd muse. " please , put down your weapon. i am not an enemy of yours .. nor do i plan to be. " her dark night court attire may tell a difference in opinion. she is the đđđđđđđ đđđđ engulfed in darkness.
#leg0lais#âž. ⥠Ýâ áľáśáľ áľâżáľ . . . ( main )#[ hello beloved. so excited to write with you.#i happened to see your blog in my recommended#and became extremely excited . hopeful we may become followers hehe#these two would be good friends i'd think.#and he looks like her ex fiance so .#dfkdjkff#i figured that#idk . something went wrong#there are times where she tries to transport but#sometimes she can mess that up .#it takes concentration so KDXFJDK IDK let's just say#she went a lil crazy.#shes pretty op sometimes#she crossed over into a completely diff book series#damn girl .
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woah improvement???? :00
these are redraws of these
top ones are from Nov 30th 2022
old Greg is from like Jan 4th 2022 and old Beth is from like March 27th 2022
#I actually used a reference from the resent Beth picture#she looks a lot less happy because of how my hc have evolved#(what I mean by that is Elizabeth gets tormented by her brothers; Micheal's just an teen who never learned how to express emotions unless#through violence *YES I'M PROJECTING STFU D':* as for Crying Child; it's because jealousy *Mom loves her hates him* and just because Mike#has been doing the same to him since he was able to crawl :// Mike; William; and Lora*Mrs.Afton* all despise CC because another hc I have#*SA mention in this hc* CC was conceived from Lora's ex fiance assaulting her :/ he was arrested but CC looks like the pathetic man so...#constant reminder :/// oh well)#PROBLEMS WITH THE OLD DRAWINGS WHOOO; Gregory's face shape is a fucking circle and his hair looks like scribbles#SOME OF THE LINES DON'T EVEN CONNECT??? Same with Beth!!! I mean the face is a bit better but that's it#the bows don't match the shirt; cold colour warm colour; doesn't fit#also the shade of red looks horrible in it#I mentioned in the original post that she looks like Glen; Chucky's kid; I still think that#Gregory's old shirt is so ew#just ew#:///#why so many bandaids? I like the stickers though snickers are cool I like stickers:)))#wait wait wait why does he old have one ear??? :$#I don't remember the time for the old ones (probably about an hour or so each) but foe the recent they took like 2 hours :// yaay :/#I spent most of today drawing or trying to get enough of those stupid star things so I can do the last level on world 4 for super mario 3d#world (idfk know why the things are called; I haven't read much and haven't bothered to look it up; probably should though ://) anyway I#need 50 of them by only have...28? 20 somethings maybe 30 if I forgot to check becfore I turned the game off last time...idk man#I have been to school in 2 days which I'm fine with tbh but my dad is probably gonna make me go tomorrow (it's 10:44 as I type this so it's#not December yet; I don't have to say today; it isn't 12 yet)#I missed a while week once like the first week of November#:// anyway#the thing in redraw Gregory's picture is the panel of botton you use to repair Freddy#gregory fnaf#elizabeth afton#gregory fnaf sb
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đ¨đ¸đž đŹđŞđˇ đŤđŽ đśđ đđŞđđđ
Father in law!Javier PeĂąa x afab!fem!reader
Summary: Your soon to be husband leaves you at the alter, but you should have guessed since the practice seemed to run in the family. Itâs hard to be upset however, when his father comes to repent for not only his own but his sonâs wrong doings. Aka fiancĂŠâs dad Javi fucking you in your wedding dress after his son ditches you at the altar.
Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Minimal editing, unspecified but thicc and legal age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, insane dirty talk, toxic father son relationship, reader is delulu, praise kink, petnames, sex in front of a mirror, veil pulling??, a few spanks, creampie, Javi fucks you into the mattress, unprotected P in V [donât do it!!]. Let me know if I missed anything đŤś.
Word count: 2.6k
A/N: Literally just porn without plot, lotsa fucking, I want father in law Javi. Minimally edited lmao I just banged this out Canât wait for you to read it!! Hope you enjoy, nasties! Mwah!
Masterlist
You rich and I'm wishin', um
You could be my mister, yum
Delicious to the maximum
Chew you up like bubble gum
You love me, he wants me
I think I want you too
Best day of your life- yeah, what a fucking joke. But what were you expecting? Ditching people at the altar seemed to run in the family. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a harsh assessment of the PeĂąas, especially PeĂąa senior, who, despite all you had heard of him from your ex fiance, had always shown you kindness.Â
The thing is, it becomes really fucking hard to be charitable to a family when their son humiliates you infront of the entirety of Texas. Leaves you high and dry on the steps of the biggest church in town in your great grandmotherâs silk dress. It becomes even harder when you learn his mother had been in on it all along, sparing you not even a little apology, or a comforting embrace after her son's little getaway plan had been revealed.Â
Instead of extending you a supporting hand, she ran away to make sure her baby boy was okay, and that this entire ordeal hadnât taken a toll on his emotional and psychological well being.Â
How thoughtful.Â
Of course, you were the pathetic oneâ unable to look anyone in the eye, sobbing on your fathers shoulder till you couldnât breathe any longer. So distraught and unwell even getting out of your wedding attire seemed impossible. It only made you feel even more pathetic. At some point you ended up curling up in your hotel bed, still in the âhappiest day of your lifeâ outfit, and pleading for some time alone from your friends and family to wallow in your own suffering.Â
You would eat your feelings in the from of the apology chocolates the hotel had complimented for you, but you couldnât manage to even do that without feeling like a total fucking looser.Â
After all that had transpired, and after years of hearing nothing but sour things about your soon to be father in law, safe to say you were surprised to see him at your hotel room door at midnight as the ambassador the family seemingly sent to smooth things over.Â
For it being only your second time meeting the man, this was far from the most opportune scenario. In fact, him showing up all sorrowful and apologetic for his shitty excuse of a son, in his navy blue suit and loose tie, made your already pathetic day all the more difficult to get through.Â
Your whole relationship you had blamed every fault of your boyfriend on his absent, detached father. Youâd heard plenty about the lack of childhood visits, quality time, and playing soccer that had plagued your partnerâs life, and had found it quite easy and comforting to pile on every relationship problem you ever came across as the consequence of Javier PeĂąaâs lack of responsibility and good parenting.Â
What you didnât expect, was to find that Javi PeĂąa was a whole lot more normal and level headed than you anticipated. He was just a guy trying to make a good living and provide for his family. Sure, he was a little bit reserved, but he was only ever warm and sweet and even quite chatty with you. To be frank, you should have seen your boyfriendâs shitty behavior as a consequence of his insufferable mother from a mile away. God knew you werenât expecting PeĂąa Sr. to be the better of your two soon to be in laws.Â
That being said, you would have never expected to be on your hands and knees, on what was supposed to be your marital bed, being pounded from behind by your ex soon to be father in-law.Â
Because that's where you are now, eyes rolling to the back of your head thanks to the most intense pleasure you've ever felt. The drag of Javis cock against your walls has been building a steady heat in your belly, the stretch of him so perfect and delicious it has you pushing your hips back to meet his every thrust.Â
Any other day a man like him wouldnât have needed much to woo youâ with his cut jaw, handsome features and those chocolate brown eyes you wished his son had inherited. Safe to say on a day like this one it took even less, just a few rubs on your back, a hand smoothing over your head and trailing down your waist, a few âpretty girlsâ and âpoor thingsâ and some fucking sympathy from someone from your boyfriends sorry family.Â
Fucking pathetic.Â
But Javier knows his son is pathetic, knows he is a good for nothing moron who doesn't even know what he was losing out on when he walked out on you.
âHeâs a fuckin fool- look at this tight little pussy, squeezinâ me so fuckin good. Bet he didnât fuck ya like this, huh baby? Didnât make ya cum over and over, make ya scream⌠stupid fuckin boy..â Javierâs grip on your hips tightens on hearing your moan, and he curses under his breath when your pussy flutters around his cock.Â
Your legs are threatening to give out under you, your knees tender from how long you've been leaning on them. Javierâs hand moves to grip the fabric of your veil, using it to pull your head back and make you face the mirror that's been teasing you all evening. âLook- Look at ya- fuckin cryinâ on my cock. âS the only reason yaâ shouldaâ be cryinâ in this pretty dress..â With drooping eyes you're faced with your own reflectionâ stains from your mascara running down your face now less thanks to the sorry of the afternoon and more thanks to the way Javiâs cock has been nudging your sweetspot.Â
You watch your tits spill out of your beautiful silk dress, the fabric now disheveled and a far cry from the sophisticated, simplistic garment it once was. You can barely recognise it, but then again you can barely recognise your own reflection. âLook at that pretty little body- fuckin made for me.âÂ
âYours-â you cut yourself off with a gasp, Javiâs hands squeeze your hips and your cheeks set ablaze at the way he looks at you when you catch it in the mirror. The whole sight is so debauched and depravedâ you on your hands and knees for a man who could easily be mistaken for your father. But somehow it's even dirtier- the possibility of your ex finding out sends you into overdrive.Â
The silk of your dress brushes against your hot skin, flipped lewdly up to reveal your bare ass, bunched at the waist, the straps drooping and threatening to fall. Javi pulls the zip down even further, watching as it hangs off your body, draped like fabric from a 15th century painting.Â
Javiâs voice calls your attention back to the present moment, lewd words showing you he doesn't hold back the way his son does. âGonna fill this tight little cunt up..â The stretch is so delicious between your legs, you feel the steady throb continue to tighten the coil inside you and you canât help but moan. âYeah, you want that? Want daddy to put a baby in you?â the thought makes you shiver, that name makes you shiver, has your cunt clenching around his cock. What an image- you, belly round with your father in laws child, well, your ex father in law. Unlike his son you were sure he would be the perfect husband, would bend you over ever surface in your picket fence house and fuck you just like heâs doing now.Â
Deep, and hard and fast, just like you need it. Just like you've always needed it..Â
âPlease daddy, want your babies, wanna be yoursâŚâ Your voice is so broken and wrecked you're afraid he canât understand what you're even saying. To be honest you canât be bothered much, it feels so good, his thick, hard cock feels so good pounding between your thighs there's little else you can keep your mind on.Â
âYeah? you like that sweetheart? we can play house..â you nod your head and his hand tightens its grip around your veil, exaggerating your movements, bending you to his will. âWanna play house with daddy? can be my pretty little wifeâ you fist the sheets, pushing back against him with his every thrust. You do want that, youâve always wanted that. And what better person to do it with. Sure, his wife always complained about how he was never around, but that's looking a lot more like a her problemâ especially with the way Javiâs tip continues to kiss your sweet spot.Â
âYes daddy, please..â Â
Javier lets go of your veil, and pushes his palm between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress till your cheek is pressed against the warm, fluffy duvet. One hand keeps you there, the other lands a quick spank to your ass and kneads at the flesh with a newfound desperation. âWon't be able to even say his goddamn name after I'm done with ya. Stupid boy doesnt know how to treat a pretty thing like youâ so sweet, so gorgeous, so fucking smart. Too fucking good for him.âÂ
With your lips parted and breathing heavy you drool onto the covers, letting Javi pound you into the mattress and overshadow every other thought that dared cross your head earlier in the day. If his plan is to make you forget about anything that isn't him, it sure is working. You don't think youâd even want to sound out his incompetent sonâs name after heâs done with you.Â
As if he can read your mind his voice calls from behind you. âWant ya to be drippin with me.â the wet schick of his cock fucking into your tight, wet, hole reminds you of just how needy you are for him, and the prospect of having him dripping out of youâ down your thighs, between your legs, leaving you all messy for him to come back and do it all over again, drives you absolutely insane.Â
âHeâs fuckin useless, just like his ma. But look at you, so fucking tight âround me, making all those pretty sounds, she fuckinâ wishes she was you.â His words have your cunt squeezing around his cock, and a lewd, pornographic moan slipping past your lips. âMy girlâs gonna be the perfect lilâ mamma, arenât ya, so fuckinâ pretty.â You would certainly like that- in fact youâre almost surprised with how appealing it sounds to you.Â
âGonna be perfect for you daddy, only for you.â your dress rides up even further, the front slipping further down.Â
âThats my fucking girl.â That growl of his sends shivers down your spineâ possessive, and confident and dripping like honey from his lips. It was almost like it could send you over the edge by itself. The lewd creaking of the bedframe fills the room, the sound of skin on skin driving you wild. The way he handles youâ firm and deft but gentle and passionate, it's nothing like his son.Â
Heâs nothing like his son.Â
âYeah, bet it feels good donât it, beinâ fucked by a real man? Feel daddy so deep in ya? Nothin ever been that deep before, huh..â You shake your head ânoâ and he coos at how pathetic you must sound, barely able to make a coherent sound, forget string together a whole sentence.Â
âMake me go fuckinâ crazy, babygirl.âÂ
What he says is fucking filthy, thereâs no denying, no justifying it. It makes you squirm, makes you even wetter, makes you want him even more.Â
âThink you wanna go back to him? With daddyâs cum drippin between those pretty thighs, show him how a real man treats his girl?âÂ
âGonna make ya beg him to stay, gonna talk some sense into him, just so daddy can have ya all to himself, ain't that right? You gonna sneak into daddyâs room in the middle of the night? All wet anâ achy? Begginâ daddy to fuck ya how ya need?âÂ
âWanna run away with me baby, live in a perfect little house, let daddy give ya his babies, fuck ya fullâve my cum every single night?âÂ
His hands roam your body, smoothing over your hips, reaching forward to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and kneading the flesh. He bends down to trail light kisses along your spine and the feeling is like nothing youâve ever felt before. Your head twists side to side against the sheets as you squirm, each sensation like it's heightened to the maximum, the heaviness and the throb between your thighs at an all time high.Â
You know you're close, you canât hold it off much longer. Your cunt squeezes and your toes curl. You also know Javi won't last, you can feel him pulse against your swollen walls, can feel the way he desperately thrusts into you, pushes you further down against the mattress, grips your skin with that renewed fervor, with the desperation of doing anything to hold on to the incredible sensation.Â
âCome for me, babygirl, come for daddy, show daddy how much ya needed this, show daddy how bad ya need his cock.âÂ
Your legs part even further under you, if that's even physically possible, your entire upper body being smashed into the mattress. You call out Javiâs name, followed by a string of desperate, strained, whiny daddy daddy daddyâs.Â
With a strangled moan that's partially muffled by the covers you come undone, your head spins and your heart pounds in your chest, you feel yourself gush and clamp down around his cock. You feel Javiâs hips stutter behind you and his cock throb against your wet walls. The feeling only prologues and intensifies your orgasm, your body going slack and eyes rolling back into your head.Â
âPlease daddy, need your cum, please, give it to me..âÂ
Javiâs groans catch your attention as you come down from your high, still reeling from the aftershocks when you feel his cock twitch inside you and paint your walls with his hot spend. Your words are strained and slurred, but they clearly get the job done. You shiver and press your ass back against him to meet his stuttery, sloppy thrusts, and bite your lip when you feel him tighten his grip on your hip, feel him land a final spank to your ass for good measure as he slows down.Â
You keep your ass in the air, face still pressed against the mattress as Javi pulls out. You hear him mutter a few strained curses under his breath as he does, and catch him looking between your legs to see his spend obscenely leak out of your used hole. He reaches his fingers to rub against your messy folds and you whine, feel him gather up your juices and push them back inside your cunt in a way that has you almost cumming right there again.Â
Your dress is still pooled at your waist and he unzips it entirely, sneaking his hands under your thighs and flipping you over and yanking you towards him.Â
âYou really want daddyâs babies?â Your head falls back against the bed when you feel his hand cup your cunt, rub your messy, swollen folds with the calloused tips of his fingers. You barely manage to nod.Â
âThen I ainât done with ya yet pretty girl.â You tilt your chin to catch his gaze, now in nothing but your stupid little wedding veil. Youâre not sure about the best day of your life, but this sure as hell contends for one of the best nights.Â
You can be my daddy tonight-night-night
I'm neon phosphorescent
Open like a Christmas present, oh
You can be my daddy tonight-night-night
If you're seeking heaven
Then you wanna come and get it alright
Be my daddy tonight
What's up what's up
What's up what's up
Be my daddy be my daddy
Be my daddy be my, be my daddy tonight
AHHHHH feel like Iâm going to hell for this one. Thanks so much for reading!! Please please please let me know what you think. Iâd love to know your thoughts!!! Thank you to everyone who engages with my work, you keep me writing!! đđ
#pedro pascal#javier peĂąa#javier peĂąa smut#javier peĂąa x reader#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena imagine#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javier peĂąa narcos#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena x y/n#javier peĂąa x female reader#javier peĂąa x you#javier pena one shot#narcos fanfic#narcos fic#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal narcos#narcos#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal smut#pedro boys#pedro pascal x reader#javier peĂąa x f!reader#javier pena x afab!reader#javier pena x f!reader#javier pena x female reader#daddy!javier pena
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My Wedding Date is an Escort!
Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojoâs heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.
Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader
Word Count: 3,682
Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language
A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!
Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight
Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.
And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.
Life fucking hated you.
Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.
The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!
Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.
Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.
Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.
You could not show up to the wedding alone.
Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckinâ escort!?
You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldnât bear yourself to start dating again?
Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.
âIt's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.â Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.
âFuck it.â You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.
Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person heâd helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.
Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.
âÂĽ120,000 for a day!?â You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. âThatâs ÂĽ900,000.00 for a week.â The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibaraâs face crossed your mind; Tojiâs face began to form before you shook your head.
Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!
âOkay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!â Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.
âThis is Gojo!â A gruff but cheery voice answered.
Youâre sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!
âHello?â A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.
You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. âS-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.â You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.
âOh! My bad, sorry!â His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. âWe put our business numbers on the site. Itâs just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.â He hummed. âI assume youâre on the escort website?â
âYes, IâI was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? Itâs my best friend.â
âGive me a sec.â Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. âA month from today?â
âYes.â
Gojo hummed happily, âI am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?â A pen could be heard writing down notes.
âSo itâs uhm, itâs a destination wedding. Itâs in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If thatâs not an issue or problem.â
âOkay, that shouldnât be an issue. Itâs far enough out that I can block my schedule.â He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. âSo the whole week, wedding, receptionââ
For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you hadâwell, it left some really deep scars that still hadnât healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.
âI have the money!â Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojoâs headshot on the website. âPlease, I need this!â
âHey, hey! Iâm not worried about the money, sweetheart.â His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. âIâm just making sure I got everything down.â On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.
Heâd had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojoâs interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?
âLet me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?â He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down
âY/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.â
âY/N,â Gojo repeated, âOkay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.â
You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. âThank you. Itâs 900,000.00. For the whole week?â Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.
âDepends, will food and hotel be included?â
âYes, weâll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, Iâll take care of your travel expenses.â
Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. âOkay, so itâs going to be ÂĽ600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since youâre taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.â A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.
âGreat, lucky me.â
Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. âDid you want any other additions?â
âIf youâre asking if I want to include your other services, no. I donât need sex.â
âDonât need sex?â He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. âSeriously?â
You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. âYes, Iâm dead serious.â The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.
âWell shit, thatâs a first!â
âGlad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.â
âNope.â
You blinked. âNo, what?â Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.
âIâm going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.â The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. âSo itâs Satoru to you, Y/N.â
With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. âAlright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.â
âYouâre welcome, Y/N. Iâll see you in a month.â
In one month, you were ÂĽ600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to GojâSatoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.
It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.
It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.
âHi! Are you Y/N?â You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.
âYes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.â You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. âThank you again for doing this.â
Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. âOh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.â Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. âSo, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.â You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.
âYou have a sweet tooth?â Gojo hummed, taking another drink. âMaybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.â Gojoâs eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. âThatâs a good story, we met at the bakery I worââ
âYou're a pastry chef?!â Gojoâs eyes sparkled. âSeriously?! What shop?!â
âUhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.â
âI love that place! The mochi there is the best!â His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. âThe cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.â
You twirl your thumbs together. âThank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.â Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. âSo I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.â
âYeah, it does. How long have we been together?â
The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.
You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.
You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you âdonât do sex.â That question had plagued his mind for the last month.
âCan I ask why you hired me?â His question had your head snapping up. âI mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.â
âUhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.â Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. âOur breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.â
âWhy did he break up with you?â
âWhy didn't he?â The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. âThere were a lot of things that he uhmâlisted off.â
You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoruâs liking. But he wasnât the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough youâd be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.
You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. âHey, we got this.â God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.
Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.
âOh, Y/N darling, good youâre here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.â After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.
âHey, donât just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.â The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. âMy poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.â
âRight, of course, Iâm sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.â
âEh!?â
Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.
The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.
You owed Haibara big time for this.
After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. âOh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.â Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.
âYou did great.â His praise had you smiling more. âSeriously, this will be a walk in the park!â
You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you werenât feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.
âYeah, a walk in the park.â You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. âHuh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. Iâll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.â
âAwesome, thanks a lot.â
As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. âHave you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.â Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.
âYou seriously think I believe that?â
Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. âT-Toji? What are you doing here?â You learned further back into Satoruâs chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.
âBringing you your pillows.â He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. âLook, we need to talk.â
Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didnât want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.
âLook, Toji, Iâm exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.â You snatched the pillows away from him. âSatoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.â You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.
âPlease, you and I both know this isnât your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.â
The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. âIâm not a friend.â Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.
It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoruâs kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.
âMy girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, sheâll find you. Later.â Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Tojiâs face before turning to face you.
âWow.â Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.
Oh, he was fucked.
(TBC)
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Spicy plot ideaâźď¸
What if Bakugou Katsuki is Y/N's ex and now she is celebrating her engagement to Izuku? The happy couple announce the news during a little get-together with their old classmates and Bakugou's still kind of hung-up on his ex,.. DRAMA!
He's just staring at Y/N, who's proud to show her emerald engagement ring to everyone
So here is Y/N, now on their knees for soon-to-be husband Izuku while he's on your phone with your ex because its the 3rd time he has called you after your big announcement
Wow... This is... Beautiful. Idk how your gorgeous mind came up with something like this but it is.. MWAH.
The man on the other side.
Izuku wasn't a jealous man. He was nothing of the sort, he wasn't a possessive or vile human being like someone he knows. Your ex boyfriend, bakugou katsuki was a horrible excuse for a man. Izuku hated how the night he was just silently staring at you and occasionally sipping his drink, not even giving izuku a single glance because his volcanic ruby red eyes were stuck on you and your figure.
The way you jumped up and down in excitement to share the news of your engagement to the number one hero. Katsuki felt bile rising in his throat at the news, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret, anger, and something more. Katsuki knew he lost something good with you, if you were to ask him why he did what he did he would tell you he didn't mean it. That it was a mistake that should've never happened. If he even got a chance to be in your presence, speak to you, breathe the same air as you, he wouldn't know how he'd react.
Izuku hated the fact that those fierce ruby eyes craved you, that he wanted to be near you. Izuku could see it, he could see right through the intense blond. Izuku only acted on pure impulse walking towards you and pulling you close by your waist to kiss you deeply and passionately, you wrapped your arms around his neck with a giggle some of the girls awing and cooing sweet and praising words to you two about how cute you are and how your engagement will be the news of the century.
The guys groaning and teasing izuku for trying to be the center of attention with this heated long lasting kiss, when you finally pulled away he rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip smearing your lipstick just a little bit more it had already stained his lips the deep wine shade of red that painted your own. He licked his lips before slapping you on the ass and telling you he was going to get a drink. You felt so embarrassed all the girls whistling and teasing you.
While walking away izuku made damn sure that katsuki was looking at him instead of you. Their eyes locked onto each other staring deeply into one another. Katsuki was furious, he hated seeing you be claimed by another man that wasn't him, he hated that you were happy with him.
Izuku loved this however, the angry fiery look behind katsukis eyes only egged him on more, izuku bit his lip before licking them and shooting the blond a wink. A chuckle left izukus lips as he finally turned away from the staring contest, katsuki was infuriated by izuku nearly exploding his cup before kirishima calmed him down.
When you were left alone with mina the conversation ended up shifting to bakugou somehow. You didn't like how she managed to get you to talk about your ex, you wanted to leave such things like 'situationships' and highschool loves in just that, highschool. You were an adult now who didn't have time for this petty rivalry with your fiance and your ex. Izuku knew you were his and he knew you loved him, he always found some sweet loving way to remind you that you'd be stupid to leave him. Something about him treating you like you were meant for nothing more than to be a pretty little housewife turned you on.
"have you ever thought about him? Y'know like at all??"
Mina pestered taking a sip from her cup with raised brows, she was really trying to get just something out of you and honestly you weren't here for the gossip.
"no. not once, I'm happy with my relationship and my fiance, katsuki is my past and nothing more. of course he is always welcome to the wedding but I can't say that I've thought about him in anyway."
You shrug and excuse yourself to grab another drink. You weren't drinking an alcoholic beverage so it was easier for you to finish your drink a lot faster than everyone else. Walking to the drink stand you felt eyes on you again, you knew whose eyes they were, the same eyes that had been eyeing you all day. You turn slightly to look at your ex at the corner of your eye, the way he looked at you with such a soft gaze, his features looking so pretty, and the fact his bow tie was horribly tied made you see that he tried to look nice. He tried to put up an effort and that was admirable.
You turned back to the drinks before sighing and setting your cup down. You didn't want to have to carry the stress of a never ending relationship that had already ended. You two had unfinished business that the both of you sensed. You lied to mina before, you told her that you had never thought about katsuki at all, but the truth is you have. You'd thought about him before, in fact you were thinking about him the entire car ride there. You were afraid to see him, you assumed he was going to cause a scene once he found out he news of your engagement to his former best friend.
You decided to stop being the way you were and suck up everything. You were going to relieve yourself of this random piling stress. You sigh once more before shaking all of your jitters away and walked toward katsuki, his eyes widened as he watched you walk to him with an awkward smile. He didn't know how to react, his eyes darting from side to side then back to you.
Once you were in front of him it made you realize how much taller he was than you, his intense volcanic red eyes squinting down at you with a raised brow and a slight smirk forming on his lips.
"well well well, look who finally came up for air to realize others around her."
You chuckle and shake your head, you and izuku had only kissed the one time and the fact that he was capable of telling you this was proof he really had been watching your every move all night.
"yes well, I suppose I'm the bad guy for wanting to have a conversation with you, eh? If that's the case I'll leave you be, enjoy the rest of your night katsuki."
You courtesy lifting your dress as you bow your head before giving him a slight wave of your hand signifying some sort of goodbye. Katsuki groaned slightly and rolled his eyes, grabbing at your wrist to pull you back towards him. You chuckle before your face came directly into his chest, both of your eyes had widened. In all truth he hadn't intended to do that, he just meant to pull you gently back towards him he didn't mean for you to end up flush into his chest.
You both clear your throat as you pull away and dust off your dress. You were praying for yourself to the gods up above that izuku hadn't just seen this weird display of emotions. But he did. He'd seen it and fucking hated it. Izuku stared daggers into the both of you, his emerald eyes that formerly matched you diamond emerald ring were filled with something much darker than before. Something heavier than just spite, he wanted to rip katsukis arms off for even toughing you. It's like izuku could see orange marks where his hands had touched your wrist. He swore that by the end of this night you weren't going to be thinking about anyone but him. He was going to remind you who you belonged to.
"yeah, so uh, how.. how have you been, katsuki."
"tch, like you even care, cupcake."
"I do... Maybe."
"maybe? Oh come on, tell me you haven't thought about me at least once."
"don't flatter yourself, katsuki."
You spend the rest of the night chatting it up, telling stories, and making each other laugh. You wouldn't admit it out loud but you enjoyed his company. It was refreshing to clear the air between you two and share a laugh. You had missed him, but you wouldn't forget what he did to you. How he made you feel inferior and small. How he cheated on you then tried to gaslight you. Just the thought of that made you laugh cease to exist. Katsukis followed suit.
"it was really good to catch up, katsuki. I enjoyed this."
"me too, cupcake."
"but you have got to stop calling me that lame ass name I tell you."
"tch, that name has meaning dumbass. It runs deeper than your stupid cringe culture."
You snort and slap his arm and he simply scoffs with an eye roll. Izuku had been spying on you two for the rest of your time there, he listened closely to everything you said and tried his damnedest not to just charge at katsuki the first second he got. Izuku would be patient, he was going to wait for the very moment he could fuck katsuki over.
Izuku walks over to the two of you taking both of you by surprise, he kisses your forehead before giving the angry blond a half smile that instantly fell once you turn to look at katsuki again. You looked back up to your fiance to see his dark demeanor, the way something dark and evil radiated from him. It was almost like you could see a dark cloud surrounding his very figure.
You put a hand on his chest which made him look down at you with the same look that he gave katsuki, his grip on your waist tightened and was almost bruising, it stung in the worst way and almost brought a tear to your eye.
"I think we'd better start heading out, hm love?"
He asks you in a low tone, his eyes never leaving yours as you simply nod with a squeak. He smiles and hums at you rubbing his nose against yours. You giggle before waving slightly to katsuki, izuku slaps your ass as you both head toward the door katsukis eyes never left you two as a scowl painted his face, izuku looked back to the blond, looking him up and down before rolling his eyes and walling out with you. That enraged katsuki even more.
Izuku being the gentleman he is even though he was furious with you for talking to your ex, he still opened your door for you but he swore the second you two got home you would be on your knees.
Once you arrived back at your house you were ready to take your clothes off and go to bed, you wanted to cuddle your soon to be husband and get in the bed, that sounded absolutely perfect.
You both go up to your room and you ask for izukus help unzipping your dress, he hums and stands behind you closely, his fingers dragging up your body all the way to the zipper. He twirls it around his finger before putting his nose in the crook of your neck and inhales your sweet scent. The strong smell of your perfume and natural essence taking over his mind. He sighs into your skin, gently placing kisses from your shoulder to your neck.
He hums and pulls you deeper into him, his hands going down to your waist and the other finding itself around your neck. Normally when he does things like this you usually gather that he's trying to initiate sex, however it was kind of hard to tell this time. He seemed more angry than horny, his movements gave him away, his anger was practically seething from him but in a quiet manner. You knew your finance, you knew when he was bothered by something. You just didn't know what exactly he was so bothered by.
His grip on your neck got tighter and tighter by the second making you slightly gasp for air, you bring your hand up to his and placed it on top of his gently. His pointer finger tapped against your chin lightly, he stared daggers into your eyes through the mirror, lucent emerald green eyes getting darker and full of lust by the second.
"izu,â"
"why were you talking to him, my love."
He mumbles lowly into your ear, his grip getting tighter and tighter cutting off your air circulation as you gripped the hand that was choking you, he looked at your eyes closing in the mirror and watched the way your face contorted and changed in discomfort and need of air. He simply just watches, his grip was harsh and seemed like it would leave a mark, he watches closely as a single tear falls from your eye. A smile was brought to his face as he let your neck go, you nearly fell to the floor and would have if he hadn't been holding your waist so tightly.
He cups your cheek and craned your head back up to face him through the mirror, you sniffled and your breath shivered as he wiped away the tears that fell with a smile. He kissed your cheek as he slowly unzipped your dress, it began sliding off of your shoulder slightly and he was quick to kiss and nip at the exposed skin.
"what.. mmh~ what do you mean, zu?"
In one swift motion izuku pinned you against the nearest wall slamming you hard against it, you hit your head rather hard and he didn't even seem to care. You winced and he just looked deep into your eyes, it's like he was stealing your souls with how his dark lidded eyes were staring into yours.
Your breaths were shaky, you knew if you said or did the wrong thing it'd end with you being edged teased and probably without his cock in general, you had to play things smartly if you wanted to gain leverage.
Izukus large hand finds itself snaking up your bare thigh to rub gentle circles on the inside of it, his fingers coming dangerously close to your clothed cunt. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried to turn away from him before he gripped your jaw and turned your head back.
"don't look away, slut."
You gulped and let out a sigh, his middle finger gently rubbed up and down your slit, his brow raised at the dampness he felt. His lips quirked up slightly and he leaned in to you, you lifted your head up to reach his lips until he stopped right in front of you, his eyes trailed down to your lips and he lets his breath fan over you.
You whimper in slight annoyance which just makes him chuckle lightly above you, you were so cute like this. Soaking your panties for him while he gently plays with your pretty puffy pussy.
"do you want me to touch you baby?"
You nod, and bury your face in his neck. He hums and kisses your head taking in the scent of you. You two haven't had much time together due to him working, he hasn't had time to fuck you like he knew you needed. He felt that he didn't have time to be cruel with you. He needed to fuck you right then and there.
He quickly hoisted you up into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks the both of you to the bed, he lays you back and instantly rips the rest of your dress off of your body. He undoes the tie you did for him earlier and takes his suit off, he unzips his pants and leans down to kiss your stomach, he trails his kisses all the way up your body to your neck which he then starts suckling lightly on.
You whimper and wrap your legs around him again as a way to say you're ready, he sighs and lets his thick cock out of his boxers, he strokes it up and down a couple of times until he sees a bead of precum spawning at the top of his large mushroom head. It was red and leaky, ready to be buried inside of you. He sighed shakily and moved forward towards your heat until you stopped him with your foot to his chest.
"zu... condom?"
He sighed and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. A snarl tried to pull at his lips as he hummed and looked down at you. Izuku has grown a lot since UA. He wasn't some little boy anymore, but he knew how to use those puppy dog eyes when necessary.
"I'm.. I'm sorry honey, I just don't think I can handle a condom.. I want to feel good, I want to feel you. you want me to feel good.. r-right baby...?"
Izuku knew you were weak, especially because you were horny and craved to feel him inside of you. You sigh with a smile forming on your lips as you own your arms for him, he smiles back at you widely before diving into you and placing gentle kisses atop of your covered boobs. He snuck his hand between the two of you and led his eager cock head to your fluttering hole.
Izuku wasn't the biggest in the bunch but the stretch of his cock was so mesmerizing and delicious it always made you feel so full. He was thick and he knew how to drag his cock against your walls in such a sexy way, it had you wettening and gripping his cock tightly, he winced at the tightness of you.
"fuck baby you're so fuckâ fucking tight..."
You scratch at his back which makes him groan into your neck, he was so close to drooling he had to suck it all back up before it left his lips. His eyes were rolling in pure bliss, he thrusted in and out of you at a fast pace, his hips instantly started stuttering and he had to bite his lip harshly just to not cum inside of you yet.
You knew izuku was going to cum inside of you, he didn't know how to not cum inside of you, he could promise you that he wouldn't and turn around n empty his guts inside of you. You didn't have too much of a problem with it because your head was spinning in pleasure, your cunt just didn't want to let go of him, It's like you took in the shape of his very cock and sucked him for all he was worth. With every thrust you felt the air inside of you get knocked out.
Just as izuku was about to cum your phone ring. The loud sound of your phone on the bed vibrating, he groans and grabbed it with intentions to simply silence it but once he seen the name. God he was even more infuriated.
You look up at him with glossy wide eyes in concern, those same eyes he wants to make cry. He looked between you and the phone and just before the ringing was to cease, he answered it.
You had thought that the phone simply stopped ringing so you grabbed at your fiances back and brought him closer which he happily obliged, he started gently thrusting inside of you making little mewls leave your lips, you bit your bottom one and let out a breathy sigh loudly which made the man on the other side of the phone chuckle.
You assumed that it was just izuku and shook it off, meanwhile izuku thought that the blond knew exactly what was happening, he was quite disappointed with the thought.
"tired of me already? You left before we could finish our conversation, cupcake."
"she's tired alright, ngh~ fuck baby juuust like that, shit.."
Izuku exaggerated into the phone, you looked up to him realizing he was in the phone and was soon to quietly protest as not to be heard but before you could even get a peep out izuku seen your mouth open and thrusted inside of you which made a moan rip out of your open mouth. Izuku chuckled as silence fell through the call.
Izuku kept letting out loud and some faux moans and groans just to piss the man on the other side off you roll your eyes and throw your head back as he continues to fuck into you at a godspeed pace.
Izuku stopped thrusting and groaned loudly, you gasp at the cease of movement. You were so close and it's like your orgasm just disappeared. You whined and before you could even protest he flipped you on top of him and started thrusting up into you. You were bouncing on his cock due to the intense move of his hips, he could carry you on his hips no matter your weight.
"fâ fuck izuku!!"
"just like that baby let him hear the pretty song you sing for me."
Green electricity started trickling around his body, parts of it tickling and zapping your body. You placed your hands on izukus thighs for some type of stability only to fail, he was moving and thrusting far too hard and fast for you to even comprehend.
"...what the.."
"fuck~â !!"
You choke on your breath and feel the knot inside appear again, you groan n throw your head back as you cum all over his cock, you were so sensitive and you got so tight izuku just couldn't hold back the moans that started leaving his mouth. They were so slutty and airy you could tell he was close.
He soon followed suit to you and came inside of you, the pumps of his warm cum spreading throughout your insides leaving you in peace.
Katsuki was silent but only for a moment, he started yelling and shouting at the green haired man who simply chuckled and argued back with mean and cruel words. This went on for a while as you sigh and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Izuku was still buried deep inside of you, you felt the vibrations of his chest every time he laughed or spoke.
It lulled you off into a deep slumber, you couldn't even begin to think about katsuki or what he must think of you and the events that went down. You were too fucked out in pure bliss. You felt yourself and your consciousness floating away as you fell into slumber in your soon to be husbands arms. He held you close while still shit talking with the blond who ended up hanging up in izukus face. He simply laughed and threw your phone somewhere in the bed.
Izuku kissed your forehead and pulled out, shoving his limp cock back into his boxers he pulled the cover over the both of you and sighed in content. He was happy with how things went down tonight.
AN: this was finished at 12:21 n I'm so tired. I have work tomorrow AND I still have to write something for my zuzubears birthday, chat this was a stressful day. The ending was rushed but I can't begin to care so. Enjoy!!
#cvnts-post#mha#mha x reader#boku no hero academia#deku x reader#izuku x reader#izuku is so girlie pop#cvnts-reqs#deku smut#izuku midoriya x reader#midoriya izuku#izuku midoriya#midoriya x reader#midoriya izuku x reader#midoriya izuku x reader smut#izuku x reader smut#izuku smut#midoriya smut#midoriya x reader smut#izuku midoriya smut#midoriya izuku smut#izuku#izuku midoriya x reader smut
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part 2 of runaway bride stevie! modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington pt 1
Eddie Munson is not having a good day.
His phone died last night so his alarm didnât go off, his bassist is sick so their gig tonight has to be canceled, and his last three Uber rides have stiffed him on a tip.
He accepts a request from some dude named Scott with a terrible comb-over in his profile picture and gives himself two seconds to bang his forehead into his steering wheel in frustration with a closed-mouth scream. Then he dials it back so he doesnât seem absolutely fucking insane. He can see the suit heâs about to escort to some fucking meeting even though heâd rather be doing any-fucking-thing else, and he pastes a fake smile on to greet him. Heâs gearing up to fall into the usual routine of this godforsaken job, but then it all goes a little sideways.
Thereâs movement from the corner of his eye, and then a blur of a body is slamming into poor Scott from behind, shoulder checking him and almost sending him careening onto the sidewalk. The dude pinwheels his arms like a cartoon character, suit jacket puffing up around his shoulders awkwardly, expression so baffled it makes Eddie snort despite himself.
âOh, shit,â he mumbles, and heâs reaching for his seatbelt to see if the guy needs any help - he looks like he might break a hip if he hits the ground - but then a whirlwind of white fabric swoops into his backseat and a loud, desperate voice yells "DRIVE!" in his ear, and he sort of just thinks 'sure, why the fuck not,' and slams his foot on the gas.
The car fishtails a bit and the tires squeal as he swerves into traffic, horns honking after him, and he picks a direction at random, going way too fast for this area of town.
His heart is pounding in his chest, worst case scenarios running through his head. Heâs going to get car jacked. Heâs going to go to jail for being an unwitting getaway driver. But there isnât any more yelling from the back seat, just heavy, panicked breathing, and he settles into traffic and slows down to a more normal speed before he cuts his eyes up to the rearview mirror.
Time stops.
Itâs Stevie.
He canât believe he didnât recognize her the second he saw her, but in his defense, it's not like he was expecting to see his ex-girlfriend in a goddamn wedding dress running like she stole something today.
Pure panic wraps tight around his throat as he takes her in - is she hurt? In danger? Nothing good could have had her sprinting away from her own wedding, but it seems like sheâs just shaken up.
His heart calms a bit once her tears dry and they get properly on the road.
And shit, itâs so unfair, because she's just as breathtaking as she was the day they split. She looks just as sad, too, which is certainly not how a woman like Stevie Harrington should look on her wedding day. But seeing her in a gown like that - Jesus Christ. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. Itâs like something out of a fantasy, seeing her in the exact kind of dress she used to whisper to him about wanting, the kind of dress heâd once promised to marry her in. Of course, they fell apart before he could even get a ring on her finger, but it still sends his stomach swooping to see the future theyâd spoken about come to life.
âYouâre sure youâre okay?â he canât help but ask, glancing over his shoulder at her.
âYeah,â she says, voice high and a little squeaky. âYeah, Iâm totally fine. Just in my ex-boyfriend's car after I left my fiance at the altar, itâs all fine, itâs chill.â
âOkay,â he says haltingly, delicately, because Stevie Harrington is not the kind of person who says itâs chill, âitâs just that, you know, all of that sounds decidedly not chill.â
âThis is so chill. Itâs the chillest Iâve ever been, actually - hold onââ she says, and next thing he knows a swirl of silk is blocking his view and he sputters a bit as the train of her dress smacks him in the face, but sheâs clambering gracelessly from the back seat and over the console to plop down on the passenger side with a loud huff and a cloud of perfume.
Itâs different from what she used to wear. She used to smell spicy and warm, with notes of amber and cinnamon. Heâd kiss the little spots in her wrists where sheâd spritz it on, trace the veins beneath the tan skin with his nose to keep the scent of her with him.
Now she smells like vanilla and something floral, airy and light. Like he stepped into a bakery. Itâs not bad, of course itâs not bad, but itâsâŚdifferent. Not her.
Or not his version of her, anyway.
This is someone elseâs Stevie now, and she smells like fucking cookies instead of home.
Instead of commenting on it, he just tells her to put on her seat belt, and she looks at him like heâs an idiot.
âAnd wrinkle this dress?â she says, her nose curling a little, and God sheâs such a bitch and heâs missed it so much.
âI hate to break it to you,â he tells her, âbut some wrinkles are not the worst damage that thing has seen today.â There are small grey splotches on the bodice where her makeup dripped as she cried earlier, and the hemline has some muddy staining from her mad dash on the sidewalk. Itâs not ruined, but itâll have to be cleaned, and a couple of wrinkles will be the easiest thing to get out of the formerly pristine fabric.
He glances over at her in time to see her run her hands over the skirt of the dress, smoothing it out over her thighs. It shifts, the leg slit parting to show her skin, teasing at the hint of a crease where her thigh and stomach meet, and Eddie rips his gaze away to stare at the road instead.
âProbably for the best, anyway,â he says, and he feels her eyes latch onto his profile.
âAnd whyâs that?â she asks, and he smirks.
âWell, pure white? Câmon, Stevie, we both know thatâs a lie.â He flashes her a wicked grin and she makes an outraged sound, but a small smile is teasing at her mouth even as her cheeks flush.
She kicks off her heels - red bottoms, because of fucking course they are - and slouches in the seat. She pushes herself up, adjusting in the pile of silk and corsetry sheâs been strapped into, and he sees the absolute mountain of a rock on her hand, and manages to bite his tongue about it being the gaudiest thing heâs ever seen.
"So who was the lucky guy?" Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and the glare Stevie gives him could cut glass. âOr lucky woman. Person? Far be it from me to deny you your bisexual rights.â
He probably sounds like a jealous asshole, but he can't help it. He's the getaway driver for his one that got away on her fucking wedding day, and he feels like he deserves to ask a few questions.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel as the silence lingers, but eventually, Stevie just groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest dramatically.
"Don't laugh," she demands, and Eddie shakes his head.
"Scout's honor," he promises, and he swears a wry little grin teases at her lips.
âYou were never a scout. You would have been kicked out for inciting a riot.â
âHey, I just ensured we all earned our arson badges, okay? I did every one of those kids a favor.â Stevie scoffs, and it almost sounds fond.
Then she says, âTommy,â and he almost swerves into oncoming traffic.
"HAGAN?" he says, louder than he means to, and her hand flies up to grab the oh-shit bar.
âEddie, Jesus!â she says, glaring at him, and he shakes his head, focusing back on the road.
âSorry, sorry,â he says, but fucking - really? âReally?â He canât help himself. âTommy Hagan?â
âYes, really, Tommy Hagan,â she says hotly, like sheâs defensive, like she didnât just leave the schmuck at the fucking altar.
âWell that explains the ring, at least.â She reaches over, smacking at his arm, which, thanks to the aforementioned ring, is probably going to bruise. âHey, ow!â He glares at her, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his bicep. âWatch it, that thingâs a weapon.â
âThen stop sassing me about it,â she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms and her face falls into that adorable bitchy little pout heâs always fucking loved, and he looks away again.
He canât help but glance back over at her left hand. The ring isâŚcertainly something. Giant, square, one big diamond surrounded by other, smaller diamonds, with even more diamonds on the band. It looks heavy and cumbersome and like sheâs going to smack it into every wall and door and get it caught in her hair and seriously, heâs pretty sure heâs already got a knot forming on his arm where the thing hit him.
It looks like Tommy walked into the priciest jewelry store he could find and asked for the most expensive ring they had.
It looks like a status symbol.
It doesnât look like her.
âApologies, highness,â he says, shaking himself free of his thoughts. Itâs not fair to hold her to those standards. He hasnât spoken to her in years. He canât know what kind of person she is now.
But thereâs still a bone-deep knowing that overtakes him at the feeling of the woman next to him. A sense of deja vu so strong it threatens to knock him over.
A different car, a different time, a different circumstance, but the same person. The same love.
Heâd picked a direction at random, but as the streets become more familiar, he realizes heâs heading towards his place. Itâs as good as any, he figures, and he shifts lanes, reaching to tap on his phone and shutting down his Uber account.
âYou know, I almost expected youâd still be driving that beat up old van,â Stevie says suddenly, and he crows a laugh.
âAh, Van Halen, you served me well until you almost blew up on the highway,â he says fondly. âLost her about a year ago. It was tragic. I held a funeral.â She laughs again, shaking her head.
âI wouldnât expect anything less,â she says, turning that pretty smile his way, and his heart does a somersault.
âThat was a very impressive move back there, by the way,â he tells her, âthat shoulder check of that old defenseless businessman?â He whistles. âHavenât seen anybody move that quick to steal an old manâs ride before, really, it should have been documented.â
âOh my god, shut up,â she says, but thereâs a laugh in her voice, and she brings up her hands to press to her pink cheeks. He canât help but keep digging.
âNo, seriously! And sprinting like that in heels? And in that dress? Whatâs that thing weigh, like twenty pounds?â
âItâs a dress, not a suit of armor,â she tells him, but her smile is growing, making her eyes crinkle.
âJust saying, it was pretty metal,â he shrugs, and she snorts.
âWell, you would know,â she says, and he ignores the way his face flushes in response. She gives a little sigh, wiping below her eye and frowning at the smear of black on her fingers.
âHere,â he says, reaching across her. His arm brushes her leg as he opens the glove box and heâs so fucking normal about it. He pulls out a few fast food napkins, holding them out to her. âNo makeup wipes in here, but thatâll help with the worst of it.â
âThanks,â she says, and she flips the visor down, tapping a napkin to her tongue to wet it before wiping at the mascara tracks running down her face. âGod,â she groans, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smear, âI look like a raccoon.â
âA very cute raccoon,â he says before he can stop himself. Jesus, Munson, dial it back. âLike the raccoon thatâs about to get the best trash in the bin, she doesnât even have to ask for it.â Stop talking. âThe other raccoons are just gonna give it to her, on account of how cute she is.â Heâs gonna throw himself into traffic.
âDid you just call me a raccoon on my wedding day,â she asks. Fine, commit to the bit.
âYou called yourself a raccoon on your wedding day. I was just agreeing with you,â he replies, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.
Her eyes are on him - he can feel her stare burning into the side of his face, and his cheeks are going pink and blotchy and God, heâs an idiotâ
And then she laughs. Not her polite little contained laugh, either, no, this is that loud, wide mouthed laugh that she hates, that makes her shoulders shake and her head fall back. Itâs squeaky and hearty and a little obnoxious and heâs always been so obsessed with getting her to let it out, and he canât help the smug beaming little smile he gives at the sound.
âYouâre such an ass,â she says through her laugh, and Eddie canât help but laugh with her even if itâs at his own expense, because at least she doesnât look so goddamn sad anymore.
When they finally reach his apartment complex sheâs a little more subdued, but the look on her face isnât totally heartbreaking, and heâll take what he can get. He comes around to the passenger side to open her door for her and helps her gather the dramatic skirt of her dress to keep it off the pavement as they head towards the stairs, and he knows he looks like an insane person as he carts a bride down the hall, but he just smiles at his nosy neighbors and lets this cement his reputation as the weird as fuck off-putting metalhead he knows they all think of him as.
He feels a little self conscious as he opens the apartment door for her, sweeping an arm dramatically to allow her to enter first. For the first time since she swept into his car, he wonders if this is a good idea. But itâs too late now â Stevieâs giving him a little smile and stepping into his home, and part of him knows this was inevitable. She may not have called him, but he was always going to come if she needed him.
He follows her inside and tries to calm the pounding of his heart, watching her take in his space, struck all over again by her beauty and the impossibility of her standing here, and silently prays he isnât going to fuck it up all over again.
this was almost even longer, but I figure 2.5k is enough for a part 2! no tag lists, sorry, but part 3 will be here at some point. thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this au these two are very near and dear to me đ
#steddie#trans steve harrington#transfeminine steve harrington#stevie harrington#runaway bride stevie#my fic#steddie fic
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Champagne Problems
so...this is super long, the longest fic i've written in a hot minute. like 18.k words long. i wasn't going to post it until part two was underway, but i'm kind of excited to share it. here is the aftermath of champagne problems...
Part Two
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"Don Perignon, you bought it, no crowd of friends applauded, your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems."
Your fingers moved across the keys of the grand piano as you mumbled softly to yourself, only loud enough that the voice recorder on your phone would pick up on it. This wasn't your typical method of songwriting, you weren't even sure there was a song to actually write; but the melody had been haunting you for days, pressing against your mind until you finally sat down and played it.
It wasn't often you thought of the events that occurred a year and a half ago. You usually did everything in your power not to think about that night, knowing that nothing ever good came out of dwelling on that particular wrinkle of your past. You only looked forward, sometimes hoping that if you didn't think about what happened, your memories of the worst night of your life would eventually disappear from your mind altogether.
But there was something about this melody that brought that night to the forefront of your memory. You'd played it over and over on the piano for a few minutes, waiting for the words to come. Your mind kept circling back to the past, and after trying to avoid it, you finally let emotion win out. No one was in the studio with you anyway, it would be safe to unlock that particular box. Just for a few minutes.
"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked up in the head," you said to yourself, the last part coming out as an afterthought. You laughed a little to yourself, remembering the disapproving stares and the whispers behind your back that people always thought went unnoticed by you. "But you'll find the real thing instead. She'll patch up your tapestry that I shed."
Despite knowing that leaving your would-be fiance was the right choice for you, breaking up with him was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It still hurt to remember that night, to recall the look of absolute devastation on his face when you stopped him from reaching into his pocket for the little velvet box you knew was in there. He didn't deserve to be wrecked so thoroughly, especially by someone like you. He had been sweet and kind and gentlemanly. He treated you like a princess and defended you to his family when they didn't approve. He was everything a man should've been to you and more.
And all you could do in return was prove his family right.
You stopped murmuring lyrics for a moment, letting that last thought float through the empty room on somber notes. You thought about your ex now, wondering where he was now and hoping he was well. You hoped he was in love and happy, that he'd forgotten all about you. He deserved all the best things that love could grant a person. You wanted that for him. You wanted someone who had the capacity for the kind of love he wanted to give.
Repeating the last few lines again, the next few thoughts came pouring out of you, the words carrying a bittersweet taste to them.
"Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my Champagne problems."
The song tapered off soon after that, and you realized there was nothing left in you to say. You felt lighter afterwards, as if pushing some of those long-forgotten memories out of you and onto the grand piano eased the weight you'd been carrying around on your shoulders for the last eighteen months. Quickly stopping the recording, you set a reminder on your phone to listen to it tomorrow and write down everything you'd said. The recording itself was lengthy, long pauses stretching between lyrics as you worked through your memories and attempted to vocalize them. Hopefully something was there to actually mold into verses and a chorus, if not, it was a rather odd but surprisingly satisfying therapy session.
Gathering your things into the bag at your feet, you stood up from the piano, stretching your arms above your head. It was easy to get lost in a good melody, but your poor body always paid the price if you spent too much time bent over a guitar or piano.
It was as you stretched that you realized someone was at the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching as you shouldered your bag and slipped your shoes back on your socked feet. He didn't say anything as you walked over to him, just stepped out of the way so you could walk out of the studio. Harry normally wasn't this quiet, in fact, he could be quite the chatterbox if the mood struck him. But his silence told you he'd probably heard more of your session than you would've liked. Because one thing Harry liked to do in all his chattering was pepper you with questions about yourself, which was annoying since you were constantly trying to have him not get to know you.
"Coffee?" was all he said as you walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The sleeve of his patterned sweater brushed against your arm, and you resisted the urge to lean into him. He always wore the coziest clothes when in the studio, and it made you want to walk just a little bit closer to his side, for no other reason than the feel of soft material on your arm and not the person wearing them.
Nodding, you said, "Sure."
Harry qucikly pressed the button when you reached the elevator, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. In the time you'd spent not getting to know him, you discovered that he was the kind of person that just had to press the elevator buttons. It didn't matter how many people he was with, it was like he took joy in something as simple as getting to press a button and watch it light up beneath his finger. He'd actually speed-walked to get ahead of you a couple times just so he could press the down button. It was kind of annoying, and perhaps a little childish, but you'd surprisingly grown to find it endearing. A quirk of Harry's that just made him who he was.
The ride down the elevator was quiet, and it wasn't until you were out on the street that he finally spoke. "I'm thinking about getting a pet."
You'd been bracing yourself for the inevitable questions about the song you'd been recording, and when they didn't come, your shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, though you were sure Harry noticed. "Really?"
"Yeah. All my friends are disgustingly in love," Harry said with a playful shudder. "I'm feeling like a third wheel most days, so I thought I would seek companionship of the furry variety. Wait, that came out wrong. I didn't meanâ"
You chuckled at his stuttering, at the flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. "I know what you mean," you said, sparing him any more embarrassment. "So what are you thinking then? Dog? Cat? Hamster?"
"Well, you see, that's the thing," he said, quickly recovering from his chagrin. "I'm not sure I have the time necessary to devote to training a puppy, but I'm also worried about getting a cat and it absolutely hating me, and..."
You listened as Harry explained in great detail the pros and cons of each kind of domestic animal one could have. He spoke animatedly with his hands, looking at you with those big green eyes of his, as if to make sure you were following his train of thought.
You never planned on befriending Harry, and even now you weren't sure that whatever was going on between you was considered a friendship. You'd always been the type to keep to yourself, especially after what happened with your ex. You'd not only lost him after the break up, but friends too, friends who thought that what you did to your ex was despicable and reprehensible and not worth keeping a friendship over, picking sides when you hadn't realized there were any. It hurt to lose so many people in one fell swoop, and you decided soon after that you were better off alone. Except for your brothers of course, but all of you kept so busy that it was hard to keep track of one another on a good day.
Outside of them, you realized it was hard to hurt someone when there was no one around you to hurt.
But Harry was different. You'd seen him around the building where you worked on your songsâin the hallways, waiting for the elevator (after pushing the button, of course), at the vending machine, on your way out of the studio or while he was entering it to start his session. The first thing you noticed was that he was never alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The first thing you really noticed was his smile, how it lit up his entire face and showcased the most adorable dimples you'd ever seen. But since you refused to admit that, the first thing you noticed was that he was never alone.
Harry was always coming and going with one or two or sometimes three people around him. He was always engaged in some kind of conversation, his head always turned as he listened aptly to what his friend was saying. It seemed so odd to you that he was hardly ever by himself. It was like a foreign language to you, and you imagined your constant solitude felt the same to him.
"Anytime you want to weigh in here would be great."
"If you want a pet, get one," you said simply.
Harry rolled his eyes as he held open the door to the coffee shop a couple blocks down the street from the building where you both worked, as if he was expecting anything other than your usual direct way of speaking. "If you don't keep this conversation going, then I'm going to have to ask about that incredibly depressing song you were working on, so please, indulge me in the great pet debate of twenty-eighteen."
For the most part, Harry was a pretty easy going guy. He had no problem carrying a conversation, and knew when not to pry. As the months went by, though, he knew how to get you to talk, how to find trap doors in the fortified walls you kept around yourself before you even knew they were there. It would be frustrating if his questions didn't always come with an endearing smile.
So you shrugged, eager to steer clear of any topics regarding your past. "I don't know, I'm a little biased. I've always been a dog person. Buddy's my best friend."
"First of all, I'm offended by the fact that I am not your best friend, and second, since when do you have a dog?"
The conversation paused while you and Harry went up to the counter to order you coffees. Both of you went there enough that the staff knew what you likedâdirty chai for you and an americano for him. It also meant you didn't have to deal with the barista having a mini-freak out at the realization that Harry Styles was in their coffee house. People tended to interrupt your conversations with Harry regularlyâon the street, in line for coffee, at the tableâbut he never seemed bothered by it. He always smiled and indulged in a couple minutes of conversation and the occasional picture before waving goodbye. He always apologized to you afterward, but after the first couple times it happened, you waved him off. None of it was actually his fault, and seeing him interact with his fans became something you actually enjoyed watching. And it was perhaps a very small reminder as to why you preferred to just write songs for other artists, not perform them. You didn't need that kind of attention. For Harry, he seemed to come alive like a flower in bloom.
You? You would probably just wilt.
When you and Harry sat down with your drinks, he raised his brows for you to continue. Wrapping your hands around your cup, you shrugged again. "I've had Buddy for about a year now."
"What kind of dog?"
"Mostly pitbull, I think. I found him in an alley behind a restaurant once, and I know what shelters do to pitbulls, so I adopted him."
You'd come to think of the whole thing as Buddy finding you.
"And you named him Buddy?"
"Yeah, I don't know, after Buddy Holly I guess." You'd grown up listening to classic rock because your brothers did, and the name just kind of made sense to you. And he was just so cute, he was your little buddy. Big buddy now, you supposed. You thought he deserved the cutest name for the cutest boy in your life.
The rest of your time in the coffee house was filled with chatter, mostly from Harry. He talked a little more about the Great Pet Debate, then about the project he and his team was working on. An album, though they were only just getting started seeing as Harry just came back from tour. He tried peppering you with the occasional question, knowing if he asked too many you'd clam up and shut down. It was almost like Harry knew that you were fighting getting to know him, but that it wasn't just him, it was everyone. He was patient with you for some reason, though, seemingly content to chip away at the brick walls around you. Even if all he had was a spoon.
"So...What were you working on at the studio?" Harry finally asked.
You knew it was coming, so answering didn't seem so daunting. "I'm not really sure. The melody had been in my head for days, and I finally decided to play around with it."
"A perfect non-answer from Y/n L/n, everyone," Harry said, though you knew he was joking. His eyes were crinkled with mirth as he hid behind his cup, his brows raising to give you a knowing look.
Nothing about your past was easy to talk about, so you just didn't. After your breakup, you didn't even tell your brothers the finer details, not wanting to relive it or face all their questions. It all brought you an overwhelming sense of shame and despair. But maybe there had been something cathartic about your session today and it left you feeling lighter and open because you found yourself sharing more with Harry.
"It...reminded of me and my ex, so I kind of just let it all out. I'm not even sure what I was doing constituted as songwriting, but," you looked down at your mug. "The melody dredged up some old memories, I guess."
"It sounded painful," Harry said, his voice taking on a soft, sincere tone.
You knew he meant well, but the sympathy made you skittish. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."
"Right, of course," Harry said, catching on to your mood change. "Well, um, my friends and I are having a little get-together of sorts this Saturday. You should come."
"A party?"
"No. A get-together. Very different," Harry corrected.
It made sense, the last time Harry tried to invite you to a party his friend was throwing, you politely declined, claiming they weren't really your thing. They weren't, but it was more that having friends wasn't really your thing.
You wanted to say no again, but when you met Harry's eyes, something in you hesitated. His expression was open, earnest, like he would genuinely be upset if you said you wouldn't come. You didn't quite understand why he wanted to spend time with you so much. Maybe you felt a little bad for always pushing him away, or maybe you were actually warming up to him.
"I, um...that might be fun," you said, not sure if it was nerves or excitement swimming in your belly.
The way Harry's face lit up made saying you would come worth it.
After a few more minutes at the coffee house, you and Harry went your separate ways, but not before he made you promise to join you on one of your morning walks with Buddy Holly. Something must've been in the air today, because you found yourself nodding before heading down the street away from him.
On your way home, you got a phone call from your oldest brother Evan. "Hey, Evan. How's life treating you in the Big Apple?"
"Just fine. It'd be a lot better if I got to see my kid sister more often. Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?"
Of your three brothers, Evan was the one who checked up on you the most. Perhaps that was the nature of being the oldest of four, but he had always been the most responsible, the one to keep you and your other brothers in line. Well, mostly your other brothers. But Evan had always looked out for you. He was the only one you told at length about your breakup. You'd confided in him all your life, and he was coincidentally the only one of your brothers you could count on not to go and beat up on your ex or his family.
"Flight's booked and everything," you told him. "Not sure if I can swing a trip to the lake house, though."
Despite your less than ideal upbringing, you and your brothers had all done pretty well for yourselves. No thanks to your parents, seeing as you all shared a dad who never liked to be with the same woman twice. But you and your brothers all stuck together through thick and thin, supporting and celebrating and sticking together despite the differing parentage between the four of you. And now you were all scattered, your brothers Andrew and Hayden were professional athletes and Evan was a bigshot lawyer. Once you moved out of your hometown, you really only saw your brothers for holidays. And the occasional surprise visit from Andrew, though that hadn't happened in a while.
"That's okay," Evan said. "Next time."
"Next time," you agreed. Then, "How's the family?"
"Good. Sammy's gotten so big. And Laura's already showing."
You grinned as you imagined Evan's family. He deserved a happy ending with a loving family after raising you and the idiots you called brothers. "Another team member for the family football game."
"Speaking of the family football game," Evan said, and you mentally cursed yourself. "Laura's been dying to know if she should set an extra spot at the table."
Immediately, your mind went to Harry, but you quickly whisked that thought away. "Nope. Unless Hayden's got a new girlfriend."
"Really? No one?"
You narrowed your eyes even though Evan couldn't see your expression. "Why are you fishing? Gossip is Andy's thing."
"What? I'm not fishing!" Evan spluttered, but you just scoffed and waited. Evan might've been a shark in the courtroom, but he'd always been terrible at lying to you. "Fine. Laura was reading one of her gossip magazines, and you know I don't pay attention to those, but you know, I might have seen someone who looks an awful lot like you pictured alongside a former boy band member."
Well, shit. You knew that was a reality of being Harry's acquaintance, but you'd always done your best to not pay any attention to it. So far it had done a good job, but now it was coming to bite you in the ass.
"It's nothing, Evan. He's an artist. I'm a songwriter. We work in the same building," you said.
"Fine! Fine," Evan said, and you could just picture him holding his hands up in surrender the way he'd done since you were a teenager. "I just thought I'd ask now and try to soften the blow. I'll just leave you to the wolves."
"Damn you, Evan," you muttered. Evan was the easy brother. It was Andrew and Hayden you had to look out for. They would interrogate you relentlessly, or worse, squeeze the life out of you until you caved. Sighing deeply through your nose, you said, "I will ask if Harry has plans for that weekend. And that is it."
"See? That wasn't so hard!"
You rolled your eyes. "I'll talk to you later."
"You love me!" Evan called just before hanging up.
The call ended just as you pulled up to your apartment. You sat back with a huff, marveling at the strings your brother managed to pull from thousands of miles away. But deep down, you knew Evan was just looking out for you. After everything that happened eighteen months ago, he'd been keeping a close eye. As close an eye as he could all the way from New York. But that was how things worked between you and your brothers. You all looked out for each other, and your older brothers acted as personal security guards to any and everyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. It was both endearing and very annoying.
Very annoying. Now you had to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. Evan was so going to get it.
*.*
On Saturday, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror longer than you normally would've. Harry had used the term "get-together" as a means to ease your nerves, but now that the dreaded day had come, you realized you weren't sure what that meant in terms of dress code. Was this thing laid-back? What if casual still meant dressy to Harry and his friends? Harry usually walked around the studio in jeans and faded t-shirts, but he was still a celebrity. He could see this as an opportunity to dress up.
You looked at all the clothes spread out in your room. You'd changed an embarrassing amount of times now, but nothing seemed fitting for the occasion. I could always text him, you thought, biting your nail as you surveyed the tornado of clothes around you. Harry had given you your number earlier this week so he could text you his address. You hadn't wanted to, as it would open the flood gates for conversation outside the studio, but you eventually gave it up when he stared blankly at you after offering your email as an alternative.
Before you could think too long about it, you picked up your phone and sent a quick text. Before you even had a chance to set it down, Harry sent a reply.
Harry S: We're just chilling at my house. Dress as comfortably as you'd like :))
Well, that wasn't helpful at all, you thought, but didn't say to Harry. You went back to rummaging through your pile of clothes, creating a spot for Buddy when he ambled into your bedroom from the kitchen. In the end, you settled on something simple: jeans, platform shoes, and a colorful fleece jacket over a plain shirt. It felt silly to have wasted so much time on your wardrobe when all you were doing was going to see Harry. And his friends. And that was...intimidating.
The anxiety of meeting Harry's friends, of meeting anyone new, crept through you. You didn't want to go and face the inevitability of disappointing them. Your track record with friends was pretty abysmal. But you found yourself kissing Buddy's head and promising you wouldn't be gone long, and then you were getting in your car and plugging in the address Harry had given you.
The music playing in your car calmed you some. Etta James' voice was both familiar and comfortable, welcome feelings as you pulled up to Harry's house. House was a bit of an understatement, though. Maybe a villa, or an estate. The LA version of those sprawling castles that were all over Europe. Your shoulders were tense as you cruised up the long driveway, though your anxiety eased a bit when you saw that had seen about as much life and mileage parked up front as yours did.
Music was playing inside the house, you could hear the trill of soft guitar and the low hum of a male voice from outside, and you worried if anyone would be able to hear you as you knocked on the door. Thankfully, you only stood on Harry's doorstep for a minute or two, then Harry's familiar grin greeted you.
"You made it!" Harry said, pulling you over the threshold and in for a quick side hug. He looked down at you for a moment, his cheeks flushed and green eyes bright, perhaps from drinking. He shook his head a little before pulling you further into the house. "Come in, come in, everyone is just through here."
Harry led you further into his home, giving you a chance to look around. Despite the grandeur of the outside, Harry's house was actually quite cozy and inviting. Everything was in warm tones, and potted plants and bookshelves piled high with a mix of books and records with titles you couldn't read from this distance. His house looked actually lived in, which couldn't be said for some of the other celebrity homes you'd been in. It didn't happen often as you preferred to work alone, but you occasionally dabbled in writing sessions with other artists. Their homes looked much more modern, and much more cold, than Harry's did.
"My home in London is much smaller," Harry said, noticing your craned neck. Then he shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "But I liked the look of this place. It reminded me of a house I go to in Italy most summers."
"It's beautiful," you said. "I've always wanted to go to Italy."
"You've never been?"
You shook your head, admiring the arch leading into an open kitchen. "I was supposed to go forâ"
For my birthday, you couldn't bring yourself to say. Gavin had planned a summer trip to Italy for your birthday, but that never happened. You surprised yourself by revealing that much, and by the way Harry's eyes lit up, you'd taken him by surprise too.
But he didn't press you to finish your thought. He just smiled and led you further into the kitchen. "Come on. You need a drink."
Harry talked while he fixed up your drink. He'd tried to persuade you to take a shot of tequila with him, his eyebrows wiggling up and down, a look on his face that you'd seen one too many times on your brothers when they were trying to stir up trouble. You declined with a laugh, opting for a glass of wine instead. Maybe a boring choice, Harry definitely thought so as he teased by saying, "Booooring!" but you needed to be sharp, and tequila tended to have the opposite effect, so red wine it was.
"Everyone's through here. I hope you like games because Kid brought a new one over and everyone has become quite invested."
Games? Is that what Harry Styles did on his evenings off? Play board games with his friends? Before you could ask, Harry led you into his living room, where everyone was in fact sitting around a rather spacious coffee table, a board game and playing cards spread out around it. It was a small group of about five or six. For some reason you expected more people, even though Harry said otherwise. They were all talking amongst themselves, talking strategy, you presumed, as you recognized the game as one of those territory-winning ones.
All the talking stopped, however, when Harry introduced you to the group.
You felt their eyes on you, judging, picking you apart where you stood. You began to curl in on yourself, wilting at the attention. Involuntarily, you took a step back, but Harry's hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting against you. You should've pulled away, but you didn't, thankful for at least some kind of familiarity among all the new.
It had been so long since you'd had to meet new people in a non-professional setting. You'd met with producers and artists and other industry people all the time, but there was always a wall of professionalism between you and them. You knew how to navigate that space with ease, but here, where people were sitting on pillows and holding playing cards, where you stood as the outlier among what was clearly a tight-knit group, you felt very much like a fish out of water. A fish in space.
"HâHello," you managed to say, giving everyone a small wave.
One person got up. A young woman with short brown hair, winged eyeliner marking the corners of her eyes. Her smile was surprisingly warm, but what had your eyes widening even more was when she pulled you in for a hug, squeezing tight.
"I'm Sylvia," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you."
"Finally?"
You probably shouldn't have said that, but you weren't expecting such a warm welcome.
"Harry talks about you constantly. I swear sometimes he purposely keeps you from us."
"That is notâThat is not true," Harry said, speaking to you for a moment. He sounded serious, but his eyes were filled with amusement as if he was used to Sylvia's teasing.
Everyone else introduced themselves, and you tried to keep a smile on your face as you committed their names to memory. They were all part of Harry's "team" except for Sylviaâwriters, producers, musicians. "And you?" you asked her as she pulled you down to sit next to her. Sylvia had insisted you be on her team while you learned how to play. She seemed nice, eager to get to know you, but you didn't trust it. Not yet.
"I'm a full-time mom most days, and a part-time life coach to this one," Sylvia joked. She seemed too young to be a mother, but you supposed they came in all shapes and sizes. "But I'm Harry's nutritionist. And friend when he's not being a pain in the ass."
There was a wry grin on the young woman's face that told you she was fond of Harry, and fond of teasing him, if said grin grew when Harry said, "Hey," was anything to go by. It eased your mind a bit, her kindness and obvious fondness for Harry. She spoke animatedly as she caught you up on the rules of the game and gossip from her yoga class. "They're all in love with that one, of course. Can't take him anywhere," she said with a nod in Harry's direction.
When you agreed to join Harry tonight, you figured you would spend your time with him. But Sylvia kept you occupied most of the evening, and he and his friends were rather invested in the game. You were content to watch, enjoying the playful bickering and shouts of surprise and celebration. It was interesting to see how they all interacted with each other. Harry and his friends sat and drank around his coffee table while you nursed your drink, observing with the sweet feeling of nostalgia swimming through your veins.
"Y/n?"
You jumped in your spot on the floor, your wine sloshing around in your glass a little. Thankfully, nothing poured out. You would've been mortified if you'd spilled red wine all over Harry's most likely exorbitantly expensive carpet.
Eyes flicking to a man with short blond hair, you said, "Sorry?"
Kid, you were pretty sure his name was, asked his question again. "Did you first start writing here in LA?"
"Uh...no. Nashville, actually," you said. "I lived in Nashville for a while before moving out here. But I...grew up in a small town just outside."
"You never told me that," Harry said, sounding both intrigued and a little hurt that you'd never shared that with him before.
Emboldened by your near-empty glass, you said, "You never asked."
That earned a few chuckles and a raised brow from Harry as if he'd just accepted a challenge you hadn't meant to create. But you read that look in his eyes with ease. Any look was quite easy to read from Harry. He was expressive, an open book. He was going to take this as an opportunity to ask you all the questions he'd been witholding.
Throwing back the rest of your wine, you avoided his eye and ignored the excited flip in your belly.
*.*
If it wasn't for your dog, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to keep up with Harry Styles and his impossibly long gait.
He'd kept to his word, insisting that he join you on one of your walks with Buddy Holly. It wasn't until a few days after you went to his house for the first time, but one morning before you usually headed into the studio, he texted and asked if he could join you for your morning walk with your dog. It took some convincing, which really only meant a series of uninterrupted texts until you finally relented.
Buddy took to Harry immediately, of course, though that wasn't a surprise, seeing as your dog was friendly with everyone. But it meant a lot to you that he seemed to like Harry so much. Buddy was a rescue, and you couldn't imagine the awful things he'd been through before you'd given him a proper home.
Now he walked on the sidewalk excitedly, pulling you on his leash as his stubby tail waved around wildly. Harry walked beside you, his curly hair pulled back with a little black claw clip, some of it sticking up in a cute tuft. As he walked beside you, you took the opportunity to study him. There was a little scruff on his cheeks and jaw, creeping down the nape of his neck. His jaw was strong and angular, his cheekbones sharp. Harry really was beautiful. You understood why so many people went so crazy for him.
"See anything you like?"
Warmth flushed your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead, even if the damage was already done. Harry rarely, if ever, caught you staring at him, mostly because it didn't happen often. But in the last few weeks, you'd found yourself admiring him more and more. The movements he made with his hand as he told a story, the mischievous glint in his eye when he made you laugh, the way his arms moved beneath his shirt, how his lips curled around a smile. You cataloged each mannerism, each vocal inflection, and after just a few weeks following that night at his house with his friends, you felt like you knew him quite well.
Shrugging, you feigned nonchalance as your eyes darted back to Buddy, who had stopped to sniff a tree.
You could feel Harry's gaze on you, but you tried not to squirm. His gaze pricked your skin, making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't have been feeling. It was uncomfortable and exhilarating, and you didn't like how much you were warming up to him.
Used to your wordless answers, Harry moved on. "You're making me rethink my decision to get a cat."
"You decided, then?"
"I think I'm more of cat person," Harry said. "Well that, and I think I've found the one, but I'm worried about all the traveling."
"It can stay with me," you said, eyes widening when you did. But it was true, you realized. You were close enough to Harry to promise that kind of thing.
"Well, in that case," Harry said, and you finally looked over to him.
His grin was wide as he looked down at you, and though you couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you knew they were more than likely squinted with mirth. You liked that smile, you realized. It was uninhibited, full of warmth and good intentions. You wanted to trust it, to give in to the friendship Harry was offering.
But you couldn't. Harry didn't deserve the abysmal companionship you offered in return, and you felt bad for leading him along when you knew you'd eventually fuck things up. You always did.
Your phone buzzing thankfully pulled you away from your thoughts. Looking at it, you saw a text from your brother, Hayden. You think Laura will be cool with a few football players in her house for Thanksgiving? it said, and you shook your head as you typed a quick reply, a small grin spreading across your face.
Hayden was only going to be in town the day of Thanksgiving, as he had a game the day after. You didn't think he would make it at all, seeing how full his schedule usually was, but he managed to squeeze it in. Apparently his game wasn't too far from Evan's house. As long as he, and his teammates now, didn't drink too much, they would be just fine.
You: I don't think so. Laura might put y'all to work around the house though.
Hayden: Seems fair.
Hayden: Are YOU bringing anyone home?
Hayden: Because I can sit you next to one of my teammates.
Hayden: I take that back. Forget I said that. No teammate of mine is going near my sister.
Rolling your eyes, you stuffed your phone in your back pocket. Harry was looking at you with a curious gaze, and you scrambled to explain yourself. "My brother," you said. "Apparently he's inviting some of his football buddies to Thanksgiving this year."
"Does he play at university?" Harry asked. You could almost hear the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to learn more about you, and while sharing in general made you squirm, your brothers were fairly easy to talk about.
"He did. He's in the NFL now."
"Oh nice You must beâWait what's his name?"
"Hayden?"
Harry stopped walking for a moment. When you tried to stop too, Buddy protested, tugging the leash, and the wrist you had wrapped around it pulled uncomfortably. Murmuring a quick apology, Harry kept walking, keeping pace with your energetic puppy.
"Your brother is Hayden L/n?"
You nodded. "I'm guessing you've heard of him then?"
A bark of laughter slipped from Harry's lips. You'd never seen him so caught off guard before. It was strange, but also a relief to know that someone as steady as Harry wasn't so unflappable all the time.
Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he said, "I think everyone has heard of him. Any other famous brothers I should know about?"
"I don't know how you quantify fame, but my other brother is in the NHL. He plays for a team on the east coast."
Andrew was the youngest of your family. Despite that, he still considered himself your older brother, which had always been annoying growing up, especially when you were taller than him for a few years. He was rather sweet for someone so aggressive on the ice. He spent a lot of time with his mom, but was still close to you, Evan, and Hayden. It was hard not to be when you all shared the same deadbeat dad.
Outside of Evan, you probably talked to Andrew the most. You were the closest in age and grew up going to school together, and while his main focus was hockey, whenever he was in town, he'd go with you to concerts to see whatever indie band you were into or treat you to tickets to a show at the arena he played for.
"You have a third, right?" Harry asked, and you weren't even surprised that he remembered even though you were sure you'd only mentioned it once or twice.
"Evan. He's a lawyer in New York, but he lives in Connecticut with his wife and daughter," you said.
Now would be the perfect opportunity to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. You were looping back around on the trail, heading back to the park entrance where you'd met Harry this morning. Evan would pester you about it until you did, or worse, get Hayden and Andrew involved. You just had to throw it out there, be as casual as possible. Easy. You were all about being casual.
"So, um, heâEvanâhe, um, said if I wanted I could invite a friend to Thanksgiving. If I wanted to."
"Oh yeah?" You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice.
Swallowing thickly as you willed your cheeks not to flush, you continued to look at Buddy as you spoke. "You probably already have plans, but I just thought I would ask if you wanted to come. Laura, Evan's wife, is a great cook, and it's usually pretty low-key until football gets turned on. But no offensive aunts or uncles or anything like that. Just us."
That was definitely too many words, but the amused look in Harry's eyes didn't feel antagonizing. "I would love to, but um, I already promised my mum I would go home that week."
"Oh." You didn't mean to sound disappointed. It was a good thing that Harry was going home to see his mother. And him meeting your brothers for the first time all at once probably would've scared him out of talking to you in the studio, so really it was for the best. It was for the best. "That's okay. You must be excited to go home. How long has it been?"
"London? Not too long, but I'm headed back to Manchester, and my mum has not been shy in letting me know that it's been too long since..."
You listened to Harry the rest of the walk back, trying to fight off the disappointment gnawing inside you that he'd said no. You didn't want that feeling in you. You wanted to be indifferent. It's for the best. You repeated it over and over until you convinced yourself it was true.
*.*
"You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason, Champagne problems."
You scribbled in your notebook, crossing out words from the original recording and replacing them with better ones. You hadn't planned to go back to this song. After recording it on your phone, you figured it wouldn't see the light of day again. But something kept bringing you back to it. So you worked on it between other projects, playing around with the lyrics and melody in small doses so that the past wouldn't overwhelm you.
Guilt seeped into your bones as you recalled what happened eighteen, almost nineteen, months ago. Sometimes you wished you could forget everything you'd done, but other times you decided being forced to remember was part of your penance for causing so much pain. Gavin was a good man. He was so kind and so smart, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And you'd taken his goodness, you'd welcomed all his kindness, and crushed it in your hands.
Wiping away a tear, you shut your notebook definitively. Your session in the studio was far from over, but you were done for the day.
On your way out, you kept your head down, not wanting anyone to see your watery eyes. You could feel the tears building, and you hoped you could at least make it to your car before you turned into a mess. It was so hard sometimes. Some days you felt great. You would write good songs, take Buddy for a walk and teach him a new trick, you would get coffee with Harry and laugh, and everything would be fine. But then there were days where the mere thought of the past sent you careening off course, leaving you with nothing but the intrusive thoughts you thought you'd learned how to keep at bay.
Today happened to be one of those days, and you hoped you could escape and wallow in self-pity unnoticed. But before you could even make it to the elevator, you bumped into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around you to hold you steady before you could spring back, and against your better judgment, you looked up, an apology poised on your lips.
"Y/n, are you okay? What's wrong?"
You should've known that you would be unlucky enough to run into Harry on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head and stepped out of his grasp, though that didn't make you feel any better. "I'm fine."
"You can talk to me," Harry insisted. His brows furrowed with concern, but he didn't come any closer. There was a bag slung over his shoulder and a hat covering up his hair, with only a few stray curls sticking out beneath it. He looked like he was just going into the studio for a session.
"I'm fine, I promise," you lied, not wanting to be the reason he was late for studio time. "I'm just leaving for the day."
You tried to step around Harry, but his hands fell down on your shoulders. His gaze burned, but you couldn't make yourself look him in the eye. You knew the moment you saw the sympathy swimming in them you'd burst into tears.
"Please let me go," you said, but it came out as more of a squeak, your voice breaking on the last word.
To your surprise, Harry did, and even though that was what you'd asked for, what you wanted, you somehow felt worse. Shuffling around him, you mumbled a quick goodbye and bypassed the elevator, not wanting to wait awkwardly for it to come up while he was still in the hall. It wasn't until you finally got in your car that you let everything out, all the guilt and loneliness and self-loathing that you kept bottled up regularly.
So often you were able to pretend the past didn't exist. But then there were days where you were almost slapped in the face by the consequences of your actions. Negative thoughts followed you all the way home and into your bed. Not even hiding under the covers kept you from feeling everything all at once. Your mind spun as you thought of Gavin, of his elated grin crumpling into a look of betrayal as you told him you were ending it.
You remembered every detail from that night. The brand of Champagne Gavin bought for the would-be occasion, the woodsy cologne he wore, the looks on his friends' and family's faces as you hurried down the stairs to leave the party, unable to bear their shame and disapproval, or the heart you'd broken on the landing in his family's mansion.
You didn't know he was going to propose until mere moments before it happened. You had only been seeing Gavin for a few months, and things were good. He made you happy, and you liked having someone to go through life with. He liked to shower you with expensive gifts, for no other reason than to show you he cared and because he could. You didn't have the same kind of wealth he or his family did, not even with the substantial amount of money you made as a successful songwriter. But you'd write him poems and leave them places you knew he'd find them and looped your arm through his at company parties. Things were good.
Every year, Gavin's family hosted a Christmas party, and last year was the first time you'd been invited. You hadn't wanted to go, mostly because in the two weeks leading up to the party, you realized you weren't in the same place Gavin was emotionally, and you weren't sure you ever would be. But Gavin insisted, promising it would be fun and he wouldn't abandon you to his family, who had been nothing but cold since the moment he'd introduced them to you. So you went, sipping on Champagne in a glass made of crystal and wondering if the guilty pit at the bottom of your stomach would ever stop growing.
It was a couple hours into the party when you'd stumbled on a conversation between Gavin's mother and sister, one that made your blood run cold with dread.
"Did Gav really ask you for your ring?" his sister asked.
His mother nodded gravely. "He wants to do it tonight."
"What? That's ridiculous! They've barely been together a year!"
"I'm sure she would make a lovely bride, she's beautiful, I'll give her that," his mother conceded, but you could hear the disdain in her voice loud and clear. "It's just a shame that she'sâ"
"Fucked in the head?"
"Larissa! Language!"
"What? She is! She's a total basket case, and everyone can see it but him. She'll never make him happy. How could she? Putting a ring on it doesn't change a thing. Gavin would have a psych patient, not a wife. He deserves better."
The rest of the night was a blur, but you knew you couldn't wait. You didn't want to break up with Gavin on the night of his family's Christmas party, but if he was going to propose, you couldn't let him. The hurt would be so much worse if you had to slide the ring off your finger a week or two after the proposal.
Gavin called you for weeks afterward, begging you to help him understand. His family did too, and his friends, people you considered friends as well, but it was clear once there was a line drawn in the sand where everyone stood, and they didn't have any trouble letting you know how horrible you were for doing what you did. Sometimes when you let yourself get angry, you wondered why Gavin's mother and sister, or any of them really, were so aggressive about your break up. They'd never wanted you to be with him in the first place, and even though they'd gotten their wish, they still called you a heartless monster.
But above all that, Gavin's messages made the deepest cut. He sounded so devastated in each voicemail. And at first, all he wanted was to talk, to somehow work it all out as if it was one big misunderstanding. I know my family can be a lot, but I love you so much, he'd said in a text. We can go to Italy like we'd planned. Elope. Buy a little cottage and just start a new life somewhere else. Please, Y/n. Talk to me. I love you.
Messages like those were the toughest pills to swallow. You knew Gavin loved you, you never doubted that for a moment. The problem was you didn't feel the same. You didn't know why. You cared for Gavin a lot, and in the beginning, you had all those giddy, initial relationship feelings, but they never developed beyond that. And when you noticed Gavin's feelings growing more and more each day while yours didn't, you started to panic.
But it was when those messages turned angry, hateful even, that hurt the most. It was what you deserved after what you'd done, but to know that you'd turned one of the gentlest souls you knew into a spiteful one killed you almost as much as stopping him from getting down on one knee had.
In the midst of all your crying and hyperventilating, your phone buzzed. Wiping your eyes and nose, you lifted your phone to your face, squinting at the bright light.
Harry S: I know you probably want space, but I'm here for you xx
You shouldn't be, was your first thought, but all you texted back was, Just a bad day that's all.
Harry's response was almost immediate, as if he was waiting around for your reply.
Harry S: Well, if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me :))
You sighed, feeling another wave of tears overwhelm you. The pressure of friendship weighed heavily on your chest. All you could offer was disappointment, and you couldn't stomach the thought of letting someone like Harry down. He was too good a person to be your friend. All you could offer him was disappointment and pain. You were toxic, and better off left alone.
You: We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend so just leave me alone.
*.*
Weeks went by and you were positively miserable. Thanksgiving came and went, and even your brothers could sense not to pry about your sour mood. Evan tried to get you alone, but you didn't want to talk. You didn't want to explain how you'd fucked things up so royally. Again. You didn't want his sympathy, or Hayden's promise to fight anyone who hurt you, or Andrew's cheesy jokes to lift your spirits. What you wanted had been all the way in England and had been giving you the cold shoulder. Just like you'd asked.
Harry stopped saying hi to you at the studio, which hurt more than you thought it would. In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't known him very long, but seeing him in the hallway and watching him purposely avoid you felt awful. You only had yourself to blame, but you thought it was better to let him down early on than further down the line. You couldn't have another Gavin situation on your hands.
But this felt entirely different. Even though you'd only spoken to Harry for a month, his absence from your life was more poignant than you expected it to be. When you ended things with Gavin, you felt guilty for hurting him, but ultimately, there was a sense of relief that you weren't leading him on, that crushing weight of his family's disapproval on your chest lifted. Breaking up with Gavin was hard, but it was the right thing to do for you, there was no doubt in your mind about that.
But this thing with Harry...you'd pushed him away when you were feeling vulnerable. A preemptive measure for the both of you, but there was no relief, no justifiable sense of rightness in your gut in the days following.
Part of you wanted to reach out to him and apologize, but you worried he hated you now and didn't know how to bridge the gap you created between the two of you.
Opportunity struck when you overheard a conversation between Harry and...Mitch. you were pretty sure that was Mitch from that night at Harry's house. It was about a week after you came back from your brother's house, and all three of them were constantly calling or texting despite their busy schedules. You wouldn't have put it past any of them to have set up times to routinely check in on you. It warmed your heart some, but nothing would feel right until you fixed things with Harry. Pushing him away had been a mistake, you saw that now. You'd done it in a moment when you were at your lowest, and that wasn't fair to either of you.
"I'm sorry, mate," Harry said to Mitch. "I didn't even think to ask if you were allergic before adopting a cat. I feel like an idiot now."
So he went ahead with his plan to get a pet, then. The thought made you smile, but you held it in. You were pressed into the corner of the elevator up to the studio. Harry was definitely aware of your presence, but he hadn't acknowledged you. Mitch gave you an awkward wave, but that was somehow worse.
"No worries, man," Mitch said now, stepping out of the elevator with Harry. He was in a white t-shirt and a light brown cardigan today, his curly brown hair looking beautifully windswept. You refused to think about the current state of your hair, which was hiding beneath a blue baseball cap. "I'll just have toâ"
You never found out what Mitch would have to do because they rounded a corner of the hallway, leaving you alone outside the elevator. Quickly scurrying into your usual studio, you sat down at the grand piano, letting the smooth keys cool your sweaty palms. You felt breathless, but it wasn't the usual anxiety-ridden breathlessness you were used to. This felt different, your heart speeding up at the thought of Harry's broad shoulders beneath his sweater.
"Pull yourself together, Y/n," you told yourself.
The damage was doneâonce again, at your hands, but you couldn't help that right this second. Right now you had work to do.
The next day, you did something you didn't normally doâventure outside of your studio. Since working in the building, you'd never thought to explore the other rooms, to introduce yourself or make friends the way Harry had with you. As you walked down the long hallway of closed and half-open doors, you wondered who was behind them, what kind of projects were being worked on right now.
Most importantly, you wanted to know which door Harry sat behind.
After a day of writing, of trying to lean into more positive feelings, the small hope you had for a brighter future. You left the studio feeling lighter after another introspective session. There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true, you'd written, forming your thoughts around a melody that was both somber and hopeful. That moment when you'd pushed Harry away was the lowest you'd felt in a while, but you didn't want to feel that way anymore. All Harry had been asking for was friendship. You could do friendship, in fact, you craved it.
So now you were trying to make things right with Harry, or at least apologize for your rude text. He'd only ever been incredibly kind to you, and you'd treated him like garbage.
You came across a door that was partially open, laughter filtering out and reaching you in the hallway. Harry's voice was mixed among them, and hearing him laugh filled you with butterflies. Going to his studio suddenly felt like a mistake. You didn't want to bring down his mood, especially if it would affect his writing for the day.
But you finally worked up the courage to knock on the open door. You'd already made it this far. The knock immediately sobered up everyone inside the studio, and you waited outside with your gift bag clutched in your hands. One of Harry's friends appeared, eyes widening when he saw you there.
"Y/n," he said. "It's good to see you."
You couldn't tell if he was pleased to see you or not, and nerves slowly began to creep in.
"IâI won't take up too much of your time, I know y'all are probably busy," you said. "I just, um, could you give this to Harry, please?"
You shoved the bag in the man's direction, forcing him to take it. "You can come in. He's just insideâ"
"No, it's okay. I should probably get back to it. So, uh, see you."
You turned and fled, heat flooding your cheeks. Honestly, you were surprised you made it that far. You figured your courage would fizzle out before knocking on the studio door.
Settling back in your studio, you pulled out your journal and phone out of your bag, and opened up to a fresh page to work on a new song. On the way into work this morning, your agent pitched you an opportunity to write for an up-and-coming artist. "Something light, Y/n," she'd said, knowing you'd been writing mostly sad, break-up songs recently. "If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out, but at least try. You've always liked to challenge yourself."
So you were putting away the Champagne problems for now and channeling your happiest thoughts. You even brought your computer to stream romantic comedies while you worked for some additional inspiration.
You were halfway through When Harry met Sally when that inspiration finally struck. Lighter, happier words finally filled your journal, a rare, but not completely uncommon occurrence. You'd written love songs in the past, both before and while you were with Gavin. But surprisingly, Gavin wasn't who came to mind, nor was it the characters in the movie on your computer.
You thought of Harry's smile, his flushed cheeks after he'd had a couple drinks, his green eyes that seemed to sparkle when he laughed. Did you have a crush on him? You weren't entirely sure, maybe you just admired his goodness. And, okay fine, his unfair amount of good looks too. But you tried not to focus too long on who exactly inspired you, just on making sure the words kept flowing onto the page.
Perhaps you should've expected Harry to stop by, but you hadn't. His voice startled you, your eyes having been glued to the screen of your computer as the final scene of Roman Holiday played out in front of you. It had always been one of your favorites, and you decided that a brain break was needed as the final third of the film rolled around.
"What's this?"
No matter how many times you'd seen it, the ending never failed to bring tears to your eyes. Seeing the glisten of tears in Gregory Peck's eyes as he stared longingly at Audrey Hepburn's, knowing they loved each other but could never be together was heartbreaking. It had been the most tragic thing you'd ever experienced when you first watched it as a girl, and it hadn't even happened to you.
It was those tears now that you wiped away, a warmth creeping up your cheeks because this was the second time Harry had caught you crying. How embarrassing.
Looking up, you saw the gift bag in one hand, the other in his pocket as he stared at you blankly. No warmth or his usual smile, but he wasn't glaring at you, either. He just looked indifferent, and that didn't sit well with you at all.
"I...I overheard you and Mitch talking about your cat and his allergies, and I'd heard of this stuff that you can use on your pets to help people who are allergic to animals."
You'd gone out and bought it after leaving the studio the day you'd overheard the conversation between Mitch and Harry. It was your version of an olive branch, a way to express your guilt after taking Harry's friendship and throwing it in his face. You were his friend, and you wanted him to know it.
It probably seemed silly to hide behind a gift instead of saying something, considering your profession. But confrontation was almost as terrifying as love was, it was part of the reason why you only wrote songs and didn't perform them.
Harry scoffed, and it looked like he couldn't decide between laughing or rolling his eyes. "No, I know what this is, I'm asking why you gave it to me. Or not me, to my friend and then scurried back over here."
"I'm sorry about that, about everything," you said, shutting your laptop and shifting in your chair. "I was...I haven't been in the best place for some time now. It's not an excuse for how I treated you that day. You caught me in a bad moment and I lashed out."
"Thank you for apologizing," he said, his voice cool and even. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. What he saw when he looked at you. "Do you want to grab coffee? Maybe we can talk?"
The thought of being open and honest in the way that he was suggesting was daunting, but Harry deserved your honesty. "Sure. Let me just pack up my things."
Harry waited for you by the door as you packed your bag, jotting a couple notes down in your journal before putting it away. Your hands shook a little as you approached him, excitement swelling in your belly despite the anxiety you felt at the prospect of having to talk about things you preferred to leave in the recesses of your mind. But it felt good to see Harry again, to walk beside him and head to your favorite coffee house.
Neither of you said anything on the short walk over, and even after you placed your orders, you remained quiet. When your name was called out alongside Harry's to grab your drinks, you knew it was time to find a table, but you stayed rooted to your spot in front of the counter.
It was Larissa. Gavin's sister. She was standing next to the other end of the counter where baristas called out and dropped off orders. There was a moment when she didn't see you, and you thought you could make a break for it, even if that meant leaving Harry high and dry. But even if you wanted to, you were frozen in place, and when Larissa's gaze finally landed on you, you felt her glare even from a short distance.
"Y/n?" Harry asked, both drinks in his hands. "What'sâ"
"Y/n! How good to see you!"
Larissa's kind smile was anything but. You'd never trusted Gavin's sister. From the moment you met her, you knew to be wary of her, and after everything that happened, you were sure nothing good was going to come out of this interaction.
"HâHi, Larissa. How are you?" you said, trying your best not to look at Harry, who had a quizzical look on his face.
"Oh, I'm just fabulous. I've just spent the last year healing my brother's broken heart, which you broke like it was nothing," Larissa said. "He's great, by the way. Finally came to his senses and realized what a God-awful mess you were. He realized all of us were better off without you."
Then, before you could even make sense of what was happening, a rush of cold washed over you. At first, you thought it was merely a visceral reaction to the confrontation, but Harry's, "What the fuck?" made you think twice.
Looking down, you realized Larissa had poured her drink on your sweater. Shock left you blinking at Gavin's sister, tears welling in your eyes. With shaking hands, you held the ruined sweater in your hands, then back to Larissa. "WhâWhyâ"
"That's for my brother, slut."
"That's enough," Harry said, voice harder and colder than you'd ever heard him before. Even when he was upset with you at the studio, he never sounded this angry. Gently gripping your elbow, he turned you around. You hardly noticed the flashing of cameras aimed in your direction. All you could really process was Larissa's smirk and the iced coffee dripping off you onto the coffee house's floor.
When you were finally outside and a block down the road, Harry pulled you down an alley where you could have a moment of privacy. He pulled his sweater over his head and offered it to you in a bundle. You quietly murmured your thanks and took it from him, slipping it over your head. The plain black sweater was warm and smelled like himâlike laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It would've been the kind of thing to flood your senses if shame hadn't currently encompassed every fiber of your being.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," you said when you felt like you could speak without your voice trembling.
"You don't have to apologize for what happened, Y/n," Harry said. He gently rested his hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"I think so."
You couldn't look him in the eye, not while your iced coffee-ridden sweater was now ruining his, not while he kept looking at you with such pity. You could feel it down to your toes, and it made you want to curl up in a ball and never get out of bed. But Harry deserved an explanation. At the very least, he deserved to know who he associated himself with.
"I should explainâ"
"You don't have to," Harry insisted.
"I want to," you said, believing the words as you said them. You weren't sure what you would've done if Harry hadn't been with you a few minutes ago. His brows were still furrowed with concern, his thumb rubbing circles into your shoulder. His sweater layered over yours created a pretty thick barrier, but you could feel his touch as if he was caressing your skin. "We can, um, we can go back to my place."
Thankfully, Harry didn't protest, just nodded quietly. The walk back to the studio was completely silent, leaving you alone with your thoughts until it was time to part ways. He got in his car and followed you home, silently following you up the steps to your apartment, a comfortable little one-bedroom twenty minutes from the studio.
Buddy was at the door when you unlocked it, tail wagging and tongue lolling to the side of his mouth happily. He greeted you first, then Harry, who he tried with all his might to knock over by getting up on his hind legs and resting on your guest. "Buddy! Down!" you hissed, frantically holding onto your dog's collar. Harry laughed and waived you off, surprising you by lifting Buddy up into his arms. Both boys were perfectly content, and the image of your friend holding your dog in your apartment was enough to lift your spirits the tiniest bit. A small smile crept onto your face, and Harry's grin widened when he saw it.
"Nice place," Harry commented, spinning around in a slow circle as he looked around.
"Thanks." Your apartment was small, but it was in a nice neighborhood and close to the beach. You made just enough in royalties to be comfortable in a little one bedroom. "Definitely different from my place in Nashville."
Harry nodded mildly before setting Buddy back down on the floor, admiring the colorful furniture that took up the space in your living room. Shivering a little, you looked down at yourself, reminded of your coffee-soaked clothes.
"There are treats in the pantry," you said, setting your things down on the kitchen counter and nodding to the pantry in question. "I'm just going to get changed so I can wash your sweater."
Harry nodded, but he seemed content to play with Buddy and look around your apartment, and your dog seemed perfectly happy to never walk on four legs ever again.
You tried to make quick work of changing, not wanting to keep Harry waiting too long. But you gave yourself a minute or two to calm down and process everything that had happened in the last hour. Even though it was horribly embarrassing, you were glad Harry had been there. He'd been a calming presence throughout, and you could only hope that would continue as you explained why you'd pushed him away.
*.*
"I...I didn't want to hurt you," you said, looking down at where your hands were knotted in your lap. "I just...I don't have a very good track record with relationships. Of any kind. I didn't want you to be one of the people I ruined."
Harry had been surprisingly quiet while you explained everything. And by everything, you meant everything. From Gavin to the Christmas party and what you'd heard to the would-be proposal. You told him about that song you'd written a couple weeks ago and how it brought all that emotion to the forefront of your memory and that it led you to push Harry away. He hadn't said much, asking you a few questions here and there; but for the most part, he let you speak uninterrupted, and you were surprised at how you continued to fill the silence, not once feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps a little ashamed after explaining how badly you'd hurt Gavin, but you never felt discomfort telling Harry any of it.
"Y/n, Iâ" Harry began to say before pausing. Looking up at him, you saw his brows furrowed, a look of consternation on his face. You waited for the blow, the one that eventually led him to leave you friendless once and for all. "I don't think you're a bad person for breaking up with him. I can't imagine that kind of hurt, sure, but if you didn't love him, you did the right thing. Do youâDo you seriously believe you're fucked in the head? Or that you ruin people?"
He was referencing the song you'd written, and you flushed bright red at the idea of him hearing more of the song than you would've liked. Shrugging, you gave him the truth. It didn't seem fit to lie when you'd bared your soul to him. "I don't know."
You could tell that answer didn't sit right with Harry. His frown deepened, and you desperately wanted to see him smile again. "Y/n, everyone makes mistakes in relationships, and even then I don't think you did anything wrong in that moment. Was it unfortunate timing? Maybe, but I don't think you should punish yourself for it anymore. In fact, I think what you did was brave."
"What?"
Smiling, Harry took your hand in his. It was warm, and his long fingers curled around your hand with ease. On any other day, you would've pulled back, but after sharing so much with him, this felt good. It felt right.
"I said what you did was brave," he said again. "You didn't love him, but you could've accepted the proposal and stayed with him. And then what? Leave him at the altar? Stay in a loveless marriage? It was hard, but you did the right thing for you and Gavin. I'm sure even he would come to understand that one day. Have you tried talking to him?"
You shook your head. "He hates me now."
"I don't think anyone could really hate you, Y/n," Harry said quietly, a blush crawling up his cheeks as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I know you might disagree, but I think you might feel a lot better about all of this if you talked to him."
"His familyâ"
"Fuck his family. Gavin is a grown man who can think for himself," Harry said. "If he can't separate their wrong opinions from his own thoughts, then he's an idiot who never deserved you anyway."
You laughed a little at the first half of what he said. It felt nice to know that someone was on your side. Squeezing Harry's hand, you said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For listening, for being a good friend when I maybe didn't deserve it. Evan's the only person I talked to about this, and even then I didn't explain everything," you said. Evan had been on your side, but it didn't really count to you. He was your brother. He had to be on your side. "I just don't have the best track record when it comes to hurting people, you know?"
Your eyes had fallen to your hand, which was still curled around his, but to your surprise, Harry's other one lifted your chin to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, you looked at him, heart beating a little wilder in your chest when you saw the look on his face. His expression was wide open, earnest and endearing, and filled with...something you weren't ready to see yet. But it filled you with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, you really believed that you didn't have to be alone.
"I don't think you'll hurt me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
His hand pushed a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The movement made your breath hitch, lips parting as you tried to decide what Harry was going to do next, what you wanted him to do next. He seemed like he was waiting for something too, and his gaze was finally too much, like he could see your soul and was currently shuffling through every little thing you longed for and were afraid of. It was heavy with emotion, and you weren't ready for it.
"You should probably get going soon," you said, rising, with great difficulty, to your feet and putting some distance between yourself and Harry. A frown on Harry's face appeared, and you quickly explained yourself. "Your cat. You probably should head home and feed her."
Before you and Harry sat down to talk about...everything, he briefly mentioned his new kitten, Sweet Pea. "It was the name she already had when I adopted her, and it didn't feel right to change it, though sometimes she's not so sweet." She was a fluffy Ragdoll cat that was apparently quite the diva, and Harry proudly showed off picture after picture, claiming he was already in love with his new furry companion.
Now though, Harry's eyes widened as if he hadn't even thought about his new kitten since being here. "Right. Good call. I'll see you tomorrow?"
You nodded as you watched him gather his things. "I'll return the sweater tomorrow."
"Don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
You walked Harry to the door to see him out. He crossed the threshold but paused before heading down to his car. You couldn't read the look that crossed his face, but his lingering gave you one last opportunity to take him all in. The muscles in his arms bulged beneath the white t-shirt he wore, and his hair had grown a tad longer since you'd spoken to him last, now curling around the nape of his neck and touching the collar of his shirt. Harry was taller than you, but not by much, though standing this close, it felt like he was a whole foot taller as you craned your neck to look at him.
Then, before you could ask if he'd forgotten something, he leaned forward. It took you a moment to realize what he'd done, but the lingering traces of heat on your forehead helped. He'd kissed you. On the forehead.
"See you tomorrow!"
Harry was gone in a flash, leaving you standing at the front door of your apartment with an open mouth as you tried to decide what his forehead kiss meant. To you, it felt sisterly, and you couldn't help the disappointment that swirled in your gut. You quickly pushed that feeling away, closing the door on whatever happened just then.
*.*
For the next few weeks, everything felt like it was back to normal. Better than normal, even. Despite the awkwardness you felt at having to see Harry after the odd forehead kiss, Harry acted like it never happened, which you were thankful for. You wouldn't have known what to say if he'd brought it up. Or tried to do it again.
But it became clear, despite the teeny tiny budding feelings you might have had for him, that he merely saw you as a friend. After your long talk with him at your apartment, Harry began showing you some of the work he'd been doing in his own studio down the hall from yours. It appeared he was getting over a break up too, though you never would've guessed by how cheerful he was most days. He still was, even as he explained a little about his most recent relationship, and you realized that while you hid your true emotions behind a wall, he might've been hiding behind his happy disposition. It made you want to dig deeper, to see what lay beneath all that "fineness."
As you spent more time with Harry, you also began hanging out with his friends. The first time you returned to his house for another game night, everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you, namely Sylvia. "I'm so glad you're spending more time with H," she'd said that night. "I love him to death but he's a clingy motherfucker when he's lonely."
That thought made you laugh. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Harry a while back when he'd said his friends were "disgustingly in love." He seemed like the kind of guy who loved love, but you also didn't want Sylvia, or any of his friends, to get the wrong idea.
"Oh I don'tâI mean we're notâI don't think he sees me that way."
That wasn't how you wanted to explain yourself, seeing as you weren't even sure if you saw him that way. But Sylvia must have seen your flushed cheeks and understood your floundering because she smiled at you warmly.
"I think this calls for a girl's day. What do you think?"
"Oh. Um..." You didn't expect any of Harry's friends to want to hang out with you one on one, but you'd been leaning into trying new things lately. And girl's day? You grew up with three brothers, the last time you had anything resembling that was a tea party Hayden and Evan threw for you when you were six. "Sure. I could meet you for lunch this week if you'd like."
"Lunch sounds perfect."
A couple days passed until you had Buddy on his leash, walking down to the cafe you and Sylvia agreed on. You were a little nervous, but mostly excited. It had been a while since you'd hung out casually with a friendâyou weren't counting Harryâand while you'd grown accustomed to the loneliness, you couldn't help but acknowledge that it felt nice to talk to someone other than your dog.
"Okay," Sylvia said once the waiter walked away with your orders. She'd held off asking about Harry, but now the time had come. "Hit me. What did Harold do?"
"Nothing," you said, perhaps a little too quickly. When Sylvia pinned you with a stare, you looked down at your glass of water. "He just...He gave me a kiss? On the forehead? And I don't know, it just read very...brotherly."
Sylvia sighed, which at the very least vindicated your feelings. It wasn't like you wanted anything more, but the whole thing left you feeling confused. A cheek kiss would've been easier to navigate, but the forehead? It left Y/n thinking about Harry more than she should've.
"Okay, I can see where you might be confused by that, but as someone with a brother, I can confidently say they don't do shit like that."
You weren't sure what you expected her to say, or what you even wanted her to say, but it wasn't that. Sylvia knew Harry fairly well, so it was safe to say that she was telling the truth, you just weren't ready to accept what she was implying.
"I do too, and I know the last thing I would expect from any of my brothers is a kiss on the forehead, but I don't know," you said, trying to remain as neutral as possible knowing Sylvia could report back to Harry. This whole thing was starting to feel very grade school-esque.
"Just know that Harry's a pretty open guy, but he's been burned in the past so he might be a little closed off or not be as inclined to make the first move," Sylvia said, though in some ways it sounded like a warning. "He's the greatest guy you'll ever meet, and whatever you decide, just be gentle, okay?"
It was hard to imagine someone as positive and happy as Harry having a dark past, but it sounded like there was a lot more than what met the eye as far as he was concerned. It was honestly a little comforting to know that he wasn't perfect. You were such a mess sometimes it seemed unfair that people wandered through life seemingly unscathed. You knew that was rarely ever the case, but sometimes it was hard to remember when guys like Harry walked around embracing life and had smiles for every occasion.
"I will," you promised, and you meant it. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen between you and Harry, but you could appreciate Sylvia looking out for her friend. As nice as she had been to you so far, she was Harry's friend first. Her words made you wonder if you would ever have friends so fiercely loyal to you.
After that lunch with Sylvia, the weeks began to pass by in a blur. There were days when you saw Harry frequently, and then you wouldn't see him at all. He would show up at your studio to get coffeeâat a new coffee shop, of courseâyou stopped by his to bring him and his friends baked goods, and sometimes you would end the night at one another's houses, a bottle of wine and takeout split between the two of you. You weren't dating, at least you wouldn't categorize whatever it was that you were doing as dating, but it felt nice to have someone in your life consistently again, and you liked that Harry was that person even more.
That didn't mean you couldn't read the signs. Sometimes Harry's gaze would linger when he thought you didn't notice, or he would sit a lot closer than was maybe necessary when you hung out with his friends. Sometimes his hand would brush yours as you watched a movie as if he wanted to hold it, and yours would brush back encourgingly, and then suddenly you were holding hands. To anyone else, it might have appeared confusingâin fact, Sylvia had vocalized her confusion over the non-relationship you and Harry were engaging inâbut for you, not acknowledging what was happening and not putting any labels or definitions on this thing happening between the two of you was somehow easier to swallow. And since Harry seemed to be following your lead, he didn't say anything to object.
It was around Christmastime that things began to change. You'd spent your morning writing a song for an artist's Christmas album, a feat you'd managed to avoid in the past. But since you'd worked with the artist before and liked the vision she had for this album, you decided to at least try to write a holiday song. It wasn't necessarily that you disliked Christmas or the holidays, you were just indifferent to the season in question, and after everything that transpired two years ago now, you just never felt like celebrating much.
Harry Styles, however, was a huge fan of Christmas. his studio was decked out with lights and garlands, he got him and Sweet Pea matching sweaters, which you weren't entirely sure if he knitted or not, and he'd been bugging you since Thanksgiving to come over to decorate cookies. He'd finally worn you down and you were going over later tonight, but not before putting in a couple hours at the studio, which turned into sitting in on one of Harry's sessions.
It didn't happen often, but you did like seeing the team approach to writing songs as opposed to your usual solitary method. For the most part, you watched as Harry bounced ideas off his friends, observing as they focused on one chord progression or verse until something else stole their attention away. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone in the room seemed to be having fun.
It was in the middle of a heated debate between another fun, upbeat song or beginning to work on a ballad when the melody came to you. It was just piano chords, and had you been in your own studio, you would've immediately sat down to play it and see where it went. But this wasn't your studio, and it wasn't your session, and while you knew no one would've minded hearing your input, you felt nervous all of a sudden, self-conscious.
So instead, you pulled some blank sheet music out and began to scribble, writing as quickly as possible before the melody escaped you. The melody had taken up so much space in your head that everything else faded away. You envisioned arrangements, themes, a line or two sprouting as you wrote down the next note. Something sad and somber, the exact opposite of what Harry had been pushing for since he entered the studio.
"What am I now?" you wrote on the back of the sheet music. You didn't know how it would fit, but it would. You could tinker with the words later, so long as all your thoughts were written down somewhere, you would find a way to make it happen.
"What are you working on over there?"
Harry was suddenly at your side, and when he peeked over your shoulder, you didn't try to hide your frenzied notes. You handed them over, unsure if he even read sheet music. "It was just a thought I had. I can play it for you if you'd like?"
"Please," Harry said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the room. It was then that you realized that everyone else had left the room at some point or another. At your questioning glance, Harry explained. "Ten minute break, but it felt like you were onto something...And I figured you'd be more willing to share if it wasn't in front of a group."
"Thank you," you said, those pesky butterflies swirling around in your stomach. They seemed to appear any time Harry so much as smiled at you. "It's just a melody, really, but maybe you can use it for something.
You sat down at the piano, eyes widening when Harry sat down beside you. Shaking it off, you focused on the piano, the keys cool and smooth to the touch, a familiar feeling that felt nice among such a different work setting. You explained your thought process to Harry a little bit, telling him the direction you hoped the song would go in and possible arrangements for it and whatnot. Harry, who apparently knew you better than you thought he did, nudged you with his elbow and encouraged you to play, knowing that you were stalling.
It wasn't that you were unsure of yourself or your talent. You knew you were good at what you did. You'd collaborated on multiple albums and worked with many well-known artists and bands, or artists who were just breaking out onto the scene and did so with the help of your songwriting. The difference here was that you normally didn't play an idea for anyone until it was fully realized. You typically sent over demos and typed up lyrics, and Harry would be one of the first to hear something that you'd only just come up with. Besides Buddy, but he didn't really count.
Taking a deep breath, you began to play, letting the chords you'd only just come up with pull your focus. After having played through it a couple times, you looked over at Harry, who had a faraway look in his eyes, an idea of his own forming in his head, perhaps.
"It's fairly simple, but I think that's what's rather beautiful about it," you said while still playing. "Sometimes you don't need much to get a response from someone, and I think a melody like this really allows an artist to shine, you know? Whether that's through their lyrics, or their vocal range, or both. And obviously it can be changed to a different key, this is just the one I wrote down, but...yeah, that's what I've got."
You finally stopped playing to hear Harry's opinion, though you wished you hadn't. Now your hands didn't really know what to do, and it took a lot of effort to keep them knotted together in your lap. Harry still looked pensive, as if he hadn't even heard your rambling, though now you were even more curious to know what he thought.
"Harry?"
Blinking, Harry turned toward you, his knee bumping against yours on the piano bench. His eyes cleared up as he remembered he wasn't alone in the studio. "Hm? Sorry, just thinking."
Offering him your pen and a fresh page in your journal, you said, "Did you maybe want to write it down?"
After that, you and Harry wrote hundreds of songs together. At least it felt like a hundred songs. Whether it was in the studio, or at each other's homesâmainly his because he had a home studio and a guest room for when sessions went too longâthe two of you were almost always writing together. It wasn't always for his album, either. Sometimes Harry would help you with projects you were working on for other artists, or you would just write songs for the sake of writing them.
And it just worked. It felt like you and Harry just clicked. He was able to vocalize what you were trying to say to his producer, and you knew what he was thinking before he said it or the sound he was going for based off a couple descriptors. You'd never known someone so intimately before, or understood them so completely, Not even Gavin.
Harry was witty and smart and kind and genuine. He felt things deeply, and kept a lot of his darkest secrets and deepest insecurities incredibly close to his chest. You realized at some point that he was even more guarded than you in some ways. As you wrote together more and more, you obviously realized that there was more than met the eye when it came to your friend, but outside of songwriting, he wouldn't divulge much. He'd been through a breakup recently, that much you could tell, and while you wanted to know more, you respected his privacy and the desire to leave the past exactly where it was. Unless it came to the music, of course.
"So...you're what? Friends without all the benefits?" Sylvia asked you.
You met with her pretty regularly now for lunch during the week. Harry wasn't typically the topic of conversation, but on this occasion, Sylvia was giving you the third degree.
"We're co-workers. And friends," you added as an afterthought. Saying you were merely co-workers didn't seem right to you anymore, and you knew Harry would be upset if you thought otherwise. "I don't know what other benefits I would need outside of his companionship."
"Bull. Shit." Sylvia pinned you with a stare that made you blush. "Last weekend he had you practically sitting in his lap, and you're trying to tell me nothing's going on?"
"Not really. I don't think either of us are in a place to be in a relationship right now." It was the same line you fed to Andrew last week when you went to see one of his games. He thankfully bought it, or maybe he was just used to you keeping your love life to yourself, but Sylvia wasn't having it.
"What makes you say that?"
You shrugged. "I mean I'm definitely not, and I can just tell he's not there yet either. I mean, obviously, I've learned about his most recent relationship by working with him, but outside of that, he doesn't tell me anything. I don't even know her name."
You weren't offended that Harry didn't want to share about his ex. You wouldn't have told him about Gavin if you hadn't been put in that particular situation. But you understood better than most about that kind of pain. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe his feelings were getting all jumbled up between the past and the present. Or maybe he just didn't like you that way. The last theory hurt more than you cared to admit, but you were more scared of another potential relationship going up in flames than finding out the truth, so you decided ignorance really was bliss.
Sylvia nodded, understanding. You realized she must've known his ex, though you didn't ask for details. That was Harry's story to tell, not hers, and you were pretty sure Sylvia would say the same if you did ask. "I guess that's fair. But so, you're just...friends who kiss occasionally?"
You nearly choked on your sip of water. "What? No! Of course not. We don'tâWeâ"
"Let me save you the struggle of coming up with an unconvincing lie," Sylvia said. "I've seen you."
"When?"
"Christmas party," she said, raising one finger as if she was about to list a few occurences.
"That was mistletoe. It was innocent," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, even though said hand was suddenly clammy.
"New Year's."
"Everyone kisses at the end of the countdown!"
"At game night when he kissed your neck?"
"Why are you paying that close attention to my neck?"
"And," Slyvia said, pointedly ignoring your last remark. "I have it on good authority that Harry kissed you at the studio last week. Don't try to hide it, Y/n."
Sighing, you said, "So what's your point, exactly?"
"My point is that y'all are just pretending you're not in a relationship when you are!" she said, looking at you as if you had two heads. "Look, it's clear you've been through some shit and Harry has too, I won't deny that. But are you really going to put your happiness on the back burner because of it?"
Your cheeks burned at having been caught. It wasn't like you'd planned to kiss Harry any of those times. Each kiss came as a surprise, leaving you more and more breathless than the last and hopeful for another. What Sylvia didn't know was that you and Harry had kissed a lot more than the handful that she'd rattled off. Sometimes when it was late and you were over at his house working, he'd get this look in his eyes that would turn your whole body molten. He'd lean in close, nudge your nose with his, and then his lips were on yours and time suddenly didn't exist.
You liked kissing Harry. A lot. You liked the way his fingers gingerly held your jaw, you liked that kissing him gave you free rein to touch him wherever you wantedâhis hair, his arms, beneath his shirt. Sometimes it felt like you couldn't get enough, but it always ended with one of you pulling away under the guise that it was getting late. Your lips would tingle long after, and you'd text Harry late at night when you should've been asleep, or he would call to talk about whatever he was thinking.
To anyone else, it wouldn't make sense, but it made sense to you and Harry. There was no pressure to be more, no urgency to define what you were doing, and that seemed to work for both of you.
"I'm perfectly happy right now," you said, and you were.
It had been a long time since you'd felt this content. Your breakup with Gavin left you feeling guilty and ashamed. And deep down, you knew you already felt more for Harry than you did for your ex, and that made you feel horrible too. Part of you still felt you were being greedy by trying to be this happy, that you should just take what you were given and try not to press your luck.
Sylvia took you by surprise by taking your hand. Her fingers were warm and reassuring, just as her eyes were when you finally met her gaze. It was safe to say now that she was your friend. She'd come over to your house multiple times for wine and movie nights, you went out to bars together, you'd met her partner, who was the absolute sweetest person on the planet. You valued Sylvia's friendship, and you valued her as a person. You didn't want to lose her if things with Harry progressed and fizzled out.
"It's okay to want more, Y/n," she said gently.
It was like she saw through all the bullshit and realized what you were really scared of. Harry was the only person who knew everything regarding your past relationship, but you told Sylvia bits and pieces. When you'd told her that you broke up with Gavin the night he wanted to propose, she didn't judge you, or ask why you'd throw away a perfectly good relationship. She was empathetic, and said she was sorry you had to go through that. It felt good to confide in someone who was willing to hear your side of the story, to have them realize if you could've loved Gavin the way he loved you, you would've.
"Maybe," you said. "But like I said, I'm not the only one who has shit to work through."
Sylvia nodded, letting the subject drop. But the words she'd said, It's okay to want more, needled at your brain the rest of the day.
*.*
"You should come with me."
You had been watching Sweet Pea doze contentedly on top of Buddy, who was curled in a ball on his dog bed. The two of them were an unlikely pair, but they'd gotten along great the first time they were introduced, and now you found it adorable any time they napped together.
Harry's voice was low and scratchy in your ear, as if he wasn't too far off from sleep himself. You were huddled together under a blanket on your couch, watching the credits roll on the second movie of the night, but you hadn't paid much attention to anything since the moment Harry pulled you to his chest and tucked his chin in the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses as his thumbs rubbed circles beneath your shirt.
"What?" you asked, not having really heard him. It seemed impossible, but every day his touch became more and more dizzying.
"To Japan. You should come with me," he said. "It would be like a writing retreat."
Harry had mentioned his impromptu trip to Japan over dinner. He seemed excited about it, of getting out of town for a little while and just being alone with his thoughts. Those were his words, though now he was inviting you along.
"I don't even have a passport," you said, a non-answer, as Harry would call it.
"We'll get you one," he said. "Don't you think it would be fun to explore a new city together? Just the two of us?"
"WâWhat about Buddy?"
"Buddy can come to," Harry said, like it was all just so easy.
You thought back to your conversation with Sylvia a week ago. It's okay to want more, she'd said. At the time, you were content with this thing you and Harry were doing. It was simple and easy and pressure-free. A couple weeks later her words still nagged you. You hadn't mentioned wanting more to Harry, but this was different. This was...big. Appearing nonchalant didn't make it so.
"What are we?" you found yourself asking, hating how cliche the question was, even if you did need the answer all of a sudden.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, but you knew he was too smart to not understand.
Still, you sat up and faced him, forcing him to sit on the other side of the couch to have a proper conversation. "I meant exactly what I said, H. WhatâWhat are we doing here exactly?"
Harry's face flushed, the muscles in his arm flexing as he rubbed his neck. "I...I don't know. I thought we were okay with not really defining it."
Not defining it, or not talking about it? you thought, even though that wasn't really fair. You were just as content not to ask as he was until now. Or a few weeks ago, you couldn't exactly tell when you began to want more, or when wanting more stopped scaring you.
"I know, but now you're asking me to drop everything and fly to Japan for...for how long exactly?"
Harry shrugged, and your jaw ticked. "A couple months?"
"A couple months," you repeated, trying to align your thoughts. All you could hear though was, It's okay to want more. Taking a deep breath, you said, "I think...I think if I'm going to follow someone across the world for a couple months, I would like a definition about what it is we're doing."
"It's a writing retreat, Y/n. We would be working on songs. Just like we've always done."
You weren't sure when you became the brave one. Perhaps it was your conversation with Sylvia bolstering your confidence, or maybe it was Harry's reluctance to acknowledge the situation at hand, you weren't sure, but his reply wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
"I'd have to find my own hotel," you said. "Or an apartment to rent I guess."
"You'd stay with me obviously," Harry said, and you had to resist the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he started seeing your perspective.
"Co-workers don't live together, H."
"But we're not just co-workers, Y/n. We'reâ"
Your brows raised, encouraging him to finish, but he ended up shaking his head. Running a tired hand over his face, he said, "I understand what you mean, but I can't...I can't give that to you right now."
You nodded, then stood up. "And I can't go to Japan without it."
It hurt, but at least he was being upfront about how he felt. It wasn't really fair of you to ask for more when both of you had been content to keep things simple. But somewhere down the line, you realized you liked Harry. A lot. You were okay with leaving your history with Gavin in the past, and you wanted to look to the future now. You'd thought that the future might include a relationship with Harry, but he wasn't ready, and you weren't sure if you wanted to wait. So much of the last two years had been waiting, hiding. Now you needed more. You craved it.
You felt like you were in some kind of alternate universe. One where Harry was scared and unsure of himself and unable to admit to what he wanted. You wanted more, and you weren't going to settle for anything less. You wanted to be more than his friend whom he kissed sometimes, you wanted to hear his scratchy voice as he woke up beside you, and you knew he did too, but something was holding him back. You'd spent too much time hiding from life and love to hide with him some more. Part of you wanted to, just because it was Harry, and you cared about him a lot, but a bigger part of you knew what you deserved, and it was okay to acknowledge that.
"I understand," he said, standing up with you.
Both of you were quiet as he gathered his things. You watched his broad shoulders shrug into his coat, the lean frame of his body bend down to put Sweet Pea in her little carrier. You felt the loss of him already, and he hadn't even gone yet, but you could feel the wall going up between the two of you. Both of you were guarded in your own ways, and both of you had been as vulnerable as you could be, but it wasn't enough.
"When are you planning on leaving?" you asked as you walked him to the door.
"Couple weeks," he said. "Just have to get the logistics figured out."
Nodding, you stepped into his offered embrace, letting yourself inhale the scent of his cologne and feel his arms around you for the last time for a while. His nose bumped yours in a move that was so familiar it made your heart squeeze. You weren't sure how long you stood like that, kissing until you couldn't breathe, it was only until Buddy's wet nose nudged the two of you apart that you finally stepped away from him. Harry bent down to scratch your dog's head and let him lick his cheek a few times before straightening back up. He was about to turn and leave when you called his name.
"I don't know what happened," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "If you did something or if she did something to make you so...closed off, and from one heavily guarded person to another, I'm sorry that it happened and that it made you this way. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in Japan."
Harry grinned, but it wasn't wide enough to show his dimples. Without saying a word, he left, head bent as he walked down the hall, taking a piece of you with him.
Buddy nudged your leg, pulling away from the hall Harry already disappeared down. Your dog's eyes were big and curious and completely unaware of what was wrong, which brought a watery smile to your face. "Come on, bubba. Let's get ready for bed."
#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles angst#harry styles album#fine line era#fine line album
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. . . đđđ đđđđđđđđđđđ , đđđđ
summary , being forced to go to a gp was not something on Y/N's 2023 bingo card but who knows maybe she will create a friendships that could help her thought this tough time
pairing , step dad! lewis hamilton x fem! young teen! reader
pervious part | series masterlist | main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lewis hamilton masterlist | next part
MOTHER Lewis has got us VIP tickets to the Australian gp Isn't that exciting!
Y/N but I have an archery comp on that weekend
MOTHER dw about it I've pulled you from the comp you can do the next
Y/N are you fucking kidding me you pulled me from a comp to go watch you boyfriend's race what the fuck?!?!?!
MOTHER language young lady first of all he my fiance and he is gonna be your step father soon
Y/N he is not gonna be my anything as far as I'm concerned and the only way I am going is if you drag me there kicking and screaming so fuck you
MINJI babe where is u at?
Y/N @ the Aussie Gp đ ... girl don't u remember me telling you guys about this đ
HANNI We do but your mom just called asking if we knew where you were đđ
Y/N wtf would you guys know where I am đ
DANIELLE cuz aparently she can't find you and she thinks you are trying to catch a flight out of the country to avoid spending time with her and lewis đŤŁ
Y/N tf is this bitch on? I would never put that much effort into her let that be know first and for most đ second of all I'm hanging out with Max and Daniel đ so dw I'm not trynna skip town đ
HAERIN Max and Daniel? as in like Red Bull's drivers Max and Daniel as in like Mad Max đĄ and big dick Danny ric đ¤
Y/N ew đ¤˘đ¤˘đ¤Žđ¤Ž never say that again đŤ but yes that would be them đ
MINJI ... proof or it never happened đ
Y/N
happy now?
HANNI okay but how did you even meet?
Y/N walked off to have a smoke and ran into them and started talking
DANIELLE ain't your mom gonna be pissed though?
Y/N why?
HAERIN cuz your created a better bond with Max and Daniel then what you have with Lewis
Y/N tbh I don't really fucking care Lewis seems like an alright guy ngl but I don't like how my mother is forcing me to spend time with him it's awkward and weird escpially since my dad is refusing to answer my calls or texts and everytime a ask my mother about it she says "maybe he is busy sweetheart" and "well look at it this way it will be the perfect opportunity to bond with Lewis" so yeah I have 0 shits to give rn anyway I need to go time for the race max says I can watch in the red bull garage
NANA (EX WIFE) my plan isn't working I thought by forcing you to stay away Y/N and Lewis could bond but I think she hates him more now
JUNHO (EX HUSBAND) no shit sherlock btw I'm coming to pick Y/N up this weekend she staying at my house till she has to go back to school
NANA (EX WIFE) is that bitch gonna be there?
JUNHO (EX HUSBAND) yes my girlfriend is going to be there and I am going to show you the correct way of introducing your kid to your new partner and that starts by telling them the truth about why you marriage ended in the first place and since you refuse to tell her I will read
#ę°ę° â§âËđ â lola's works Ëâ¡ ęąęą#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#fake instagram imagines#social media au#f1 imagines#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x female reader#lewis hamilton x fem!reader#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton imagines#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton instagram au#lewis hamilton blurb#formula one x reader#lewis hamilton social media au#lewis hamilton angst#lewis hamilton one shot#formula one x you#formula 1 x reader#formula 1#sir lewis hamilton#f1 fic#f1 social media au#f1 x y/n#f1 x oc#f1 x you#f1 fanfiction
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Little White Lies
18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader
Summary: Readers sister is having an Engagement/Christmas party this year and her cousin will be there. With her new fiance. Who is reader's ex. The only logical thing to do is to show up with her own new boyfriend... who isn't really her boyfriend. He's her boss.
Warnings: fake dating, mutual pining, idiots in love, flirting, teasing, there's only one bed, love confessions, getting together, oral sex (fem receiving), condom use, p in v smut, meeting readers family
Word Count: 5.3k
She sits in the corner of the jet, facing Aaron in the two-person seat near the entrance to the cockpit. Sheâs sat there with him on almost every trip for the past 3 years. Heâs good company, not too talkative, he gets her drinks and he gives her little smiles every so often. Itâs relaxing to sit with him⌠however, tonight, sheâs not in a good mood and he can tell.Â
He looks at her all concerned and then looks around at the others to assure theyâre all busy. âAre you alright?â He whispers. Keeping her business between them.Â
She shrugs, âMy sisterâs been texting me. Her engagement party is coming up and I promised Iâd go but I just found out that my cousin and her fiancĂŠ are going to be thereâŚâÂ
âDo you not like her?âÂ
She shakes her head, âitâs complicated.âÂ
âIâm all ears?â He reminds her.Â
She sighs, âHer fiancĂŠ is my ex-boyfriend. She slept with him while we were still together⌠I was in the academy and he was apparently lonely all by himself and didnât have the time to travel here to see me so he fell into her bed instead.âÂ
âIâm so sorry,â Hotch says, concern all over his face and disbelief in his voice. âThatâs awful, why would your sister invite her?âÂ
âBecause my parents are paying for it and all the family gets to go, no matter what,â she scoffs. âItâs to show off, nothing more.âÂ
âYou knowâŚâ he tilts his head to the side and his brows go up as he thinks, a pondering look on his face thatâs quite amusing. âYou could bring someone with you, someone to prove to him that youâve moved on and youâre in a much better place now?â He suggests.Â
âYeah, like who? Morgan?â She teases, laughing slightly.Â
âOr me?â He offers. His brows were still raised but the softest, most sincere look on his face. Sheâs never seen him look so⌠so affectionate. So careful. Unless heâs with Jack. This is his âI love you like family Iâll do whatever you need me toâ look.Â
âYeah,â she gives in. âThat would be nice⌠itâs December 22nd. Would you be able to take time away from Jack that close to Christmas?âÂ
âWhere is it?âÂ
âtheyâre having it in New York, thatâs where my sister lives now,â she explains. âIâm taking the train up the night before, I have a hotel room booked but I could stay with my sister and you could have the room for the night?âÂ
âCould we switch to a double queen?â He suggests.Â
She shrugs, âI can call and find out?âÂ
âOkay,â he nods. âJackâs with Haley this Christmas, I see him boxing day till New Year's Day and then he goes back to her.âÂ
âWeâll have to bring him home something,â she suggests. âWe can even go a bit early or stay later if you want to go shopping a bit in the city?âÂ
âHeâs always said he wants M&Mâs with his face on them,â he teases. âItâll be fun.âÂ
âIâll tell my sister to expect another person,â she says as she pulls her phone out. âDo I tell her youâre my boyfriend?âÂ
He nods, âWhatever you want to call me, Iâll be it for the weekend.âÂ
â
She tells him to pack a suit and obviously an overcoat to stay warm in the cold New York air. The party theyâre going to is going to be on the top floor of this really expensive restaurant, theyâll have rooftop access and thereâs free drinks. Itâll be the fanciest non-FBI party heâs ever been invited to.Â
The team doesnât know theyâre going together, everyone has the next two weeks off unless thereâs something serious like terrorism or multiple bodies dropping, or a kid going missing. But itâs not often their Christmas breaks get disrupted. So they pack up on the 20th, everyone takes the elevators down to the garage together and they say goodbye before their vacations.Â
He meets her at the train station the next day at 11am, their train leaves at 11:20, and he comes with snacks and coffee. Always in dad mode, he knows what itâs like to go on a long trip with someone whoâs hungry, itâs not always fun. They have a little booth together, the trains are mostly empty this close to Christmas. Everyoneâs either where they want to be already or taking last-minute flights. So itâs quiet, they get to look out the window together and she shares an earbud with him, with her phone on shuffle, exposing him to a whole bunch of new music.Â
And she has a nap, head on his shoulder and wrapped around his arm. Itâs not the first time this has happened, heâs let her sleep on him on the Jet and theyâve had to share beds in hotels before. Heâs hugged her after rough cases and when sheâs just sad⌠sheâs his family. Everyone on the team is. He just feels it a little stronger for her.Â
He rests his cheek on her head, looking out the window with a smile on his face. Excited to pretend to be her boyfriend for the next 2 days. To have her hang off his arm, to dance with her⌠maybe even steal a kiss or two to really sell it. And he canât wait to see her dress, or how she does her hair or if sheâs going to wear makeup? She doesnât get all dolled up for work, but heâs seen her dress up for the bar and events for the bureau and he thinks she is so, so beautiful. Always, but especially when she puts on lipstick and her good perfume.Â
Heâs been harbouring this little crush on her for so long that heâs not really sure how much longer it can stay a secret.Â
They arrive in New York at 6pm. The hotel theyâre staying at has a restaurant and Y/N, being the genius she is, booked a reservation for 6:30. They have enough time to put their bags in their room and head back downstairs, but their room is wrong.Â
âThey told me they could switch to two queens?â She complains as she sees just one bed. A King bed.Â
âDid you specifically say two queens or a double queen?â He teases. âCause a double queen might make them think you want a bigger bedâŚâÂ
She groans, holding her hands over her face, âOh god, I fucked up.âÂ
He gently rubs his hand on her back, âHey, itâs okay. I donât mind sharing for 2 nights, thereâs lots of room in there. Plus⌠it might be good for playing pretend.âÂ
She smirks, âmy boyfriend would sleep in the same bed as me.âÂ
âand enjoy it,â he pulls her in for a hug and rests his chin on her head while she snuggles into his chest where she feels safest.Â
â
After dinner, they walk around the city a bit. She still has to get her sister something and she has a registry at some fancy store nearby. They get hot chocolates and stand close together as they walk, hands brushing each other but not holding, no matter how much she wants to hold his hand. So she rubs her knuckles against his and waits for him to be the one to finally give in.Â
It takes a while, they walk down the block and explore two stores but he finally takes her hand in his, fingers interlocked, as they cross the street. And he doesnât let go once theyâre safely back on the sidewalk. He simply guides her towards the store her sister is registered at and they head inside, closer than ever before.Â
âHi, can I help you with anything?â One of the workers asks with a genuine smile on her face.Â
âmy sister has a registry here,â Y/N explains. âIt should be under Lindsay and Connor Higgins?âÂ
Sheâs taken to the register and handed a list, everything they want is on it. Some crossed out as theyâve already been purchased, but a decent amount of things are still there. A lot of it is pointless, fancy shit but she likes to think she knows her sister well. She knows what would actually be used by her and what would just be a decoration to prove she had good taste.Â
Her sister works really hard at a very important publishing company, sheâs gone to work by 6am and home no later than 8pm most nights. She lives on coffee and wine to wake her up in the mornings and relax her at night. So she gets her an espresso maker and some crystal wine glasses. But when she goes to pay for them, Aaron reaches out and pulls the wine glasses towards himself. âIâll get these, I canât go without a gift.âÂ
She smiles, âyou donât have to.âÂ
âI want to,â he assures her.Â
They pay, they get a decorative gift bag each and head back outside to the cold. He reaches for her hand again and she lets him, smiling over at him. âYouâre taking this assignment very seriously.âÂ
âHave you ever known me to slack on the job?â He teases.Â
She bumps her shoulder against his, âNo, I guess not⌠and I guess this is helping, itâll look more real in front of everyone tomorrow.âÂ
âIt wonât be that hard,â he assures her.
âWhy, 'cause Iâm so loveable?â She jokes, not believing the words that leave her mouth.Â
âYes, actually,â he nods, smiling over at her.Â
She just laughs, not thinking he means it as anything other than familial. âThanks. Youâre pretty great too when youâre not telling me what to do.âÂ
âI donât boss you around that much,â he laughs too. âDave teases me all the time about how much nicer I am to you than the others.âÂ
âWell, I am your best agent,â she shrugs with a proud smirk. âYou wanna go back to the hotel or is there anything you want to do tonight?âÂ
âWe can go back,â he agrees, leading them in the direction of the hotel already. âIâm going to need some good beauty sleep to make your ex jealous tomorrow.âÂ
âHa!â She laughs, raising her hand thatâs carrying the bag to cover her mouth as she giggles. âYeah, no you donât. Youâre like a million times hotter than him, itâs not a fair fight at all.âÂ
âYeah, okay,â he shakes his head in disbelief.Â
âWhat?â She looks at him like heâs crazy. âDo you not think youâre hot?âÂ
âNot exactlyâŚâÂ
âI knew you were funny but thatâs hilarious,â she jokes. âYouâre very, very hot. One of the hottest men Iâve ever seen in my life, like People magazine should be reaching out to you for sexiest man of the year. Youâve been on the news enough times, surely the public will agree.âÂ
He laughs at the compliment, âThank you, I guess⌠I guess I should trust your judgement here the way I do everywhere else.âÂ
âYes, 'cause Iâm never wrong,â she reminds him.Â
They keep joking around, teasing each other until they get back to the hotel. Up the elevator and into their room. They leave their gifts by the door and Aaron lets her take the first turn in the bathroom to get ready for the night.Â
She takes off her makeup, she washes her face and does her skincare routine and he knocks, âAre you okay in there?âÂ
âYeah, you can come in,â she announces, still fully dressed.Â
He opens the door slowly, âYouâve been in here 10 minutes already I thought you were just changing?âÂ
âNope, skincare is important,â she smiles at him, massaging the moisturizer into her face. âWant some?âÂ
He smiles, âSure, why not?âÂ
âWash your face first, get a new face cloth over there,â she points and steps out of the way of the sink. âMy face wash is right there.âÂ
She watches him wash his face carefully, smiling at him through the mirror with so much affection behind her eyes. Heâs so cute when he gets soft like this, she could easily see them having a life like this together. Getting ready for bed together, doing their nighttime routines and falling into the same bed. Night after night. Forever.Â
Once his face is washed he looks to her, âHow much moisturizer do I use?âÂ
âWant me to do it?â She offers.Â
He nods, âplease?âÂ
âSit down on the toilet lid,â she instructs and he moves over there quickly.Â
She opens the jar again and takes a decent-sized amount onto her fingers, she puts the jar down and smiles at him, âIt might be cold.â She dabs it on his forehead, cheeks, nose and chin and then starts to rub it in for him. He closes his eyes and sighs as he leans into it. âLike it?âÂ
He hums, nodding slightly, not wanting to talk incase he accidentally got cream in his mouth. She just smiles, adoringly, loving that she gets to have moments like this with him. âYouâre so cuteâŚâ she whispers.Â
He chuckles, finally looking at her again. She cups his face in her hands, âall done.âÂ
âYouâre cuter.âÂ
âWhat is happening here?â She asks, completely serious. âAre you just a good actor orâ
âI was in a few plays,â he teases. âBut no, Iâm not acting.âÂ
âDo you have a thing for me?â She lights right up. âOh my god, you do?âÂ
âAnd you call yourself a profiler,â he shakes his head. âYes, okay? I like you. I think youâre wonderful and beautiful and everything I wantâ is that what you wanted me to say?âÂ
âGet up,â she says, pulling at him.Â
âWhy?â He asks as he stands.Â
âSo you can be taller than me when I kiss you,â she teases. Grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in.Â
The kiss is soft at first, cute and sweet⌠but then they get needy. Years of close proximity and bubbling feelings and âwhat ifsâ all coming to the surface. He cups the back of her head with one hand and holds her lower back with the other, holding her flush to his chest as his tongue makes her acquaintance.Â
She accidentally moans as his hand goes down to cup her ass and he smiles against her. He pulls back slightly, noses brushing. âI canât tell you how long Iâve waited to do that.âÂ
âReally?â She canât believe it.Â
He smiles before he steals another kiss, and another and another and before they know it heâs backed her out of the bathroom and all the way to their king bed. He has her on the mattress, hand on her back and the nape of her neck as he cradles her and hovers over her. His tongue on hers, their chests pressed together, and her hands on his back with her nails desperately clinging to the cotton.Â
He eagerly moves to kiss her neck and while it feels so good, sheâs worried about what is about to go down. Sure, she hoped for this. She thought maybe theyâd have a few drinks at the party tomorrow and stumble home and fall into bed together and regret it in the morning but this⌠admitting to liking each other while completely sober, was not on her mind at all.Â
âAaron,â she whispers, hesitation in her voice.Â
He pulls back, âsomething wrong?âÂ
âAre we going to regret this?â She worries.Â
He cups her face gently, his body weight still on top of her, itâs oddly comforting to feel so trapped under him. âI know I wonât, but if you will, then we stop. I never want you to regret your time with me. I never want you to be uncomfortable with me. I never want to lose what we have⌠so if that means we never have more than a friendship, I'm perfectly okay with that.âÂ
âI have tried so hard not to love you for the last year and a bit that weâve been friends,â she admits. âIf we go further and you change your mind, Iâll never recover.âÂ
âI wonât change my mind,â he says, confident as ever. âI want you to love me as much as I already love you.âÂ
His thumb caresses her cheek while he talks, he looks at her with the most affectionate look sheâs ever seen on him. Heâs so handsome all the time, but this look. The softness, his big brown eyes, the way he smelled like her face cream and he kept looking down at her lips like he was dying to taste them again⌠sheâs always believed him when he speaks, but this is different. Heâs opened his chest and handed her his heart and he wants her to hold it and keep it safe... forever.Â
âI love you,â she admits, tearing up because this is so unreal. âI love you so much, Aaron.âÂ
He kisses her again, so gently, breathing her in and savouring every moment. Sure, itâs not their first kiss, that happened 10 minutes ago, but this is the first kiss theyâll have being openly in love with each other.Â
She kisses him again and again, never wanting this to end. She wraps her legs around him, she holds him closer than ever and he lightly moans against her. She starts to work at his shirt, unbuttoning it so she can get her hands under it. She wraps her arms around him, touching his hot skin as he breaks the kiss and moves down her neck.Â
âI love you, so much,â he reminds her again.Â
âShow me how much?â she whispers right into his ear.Â
He pulls back, delicately looking into her eyes, âare you sure?âÂ
She nods, âmore than Iâve ever been before.âÂ
He gets his shirt off, and he pulls her forward to pull hers off too. Through kisses and rolling around, his pants are off, then herâs. Behind her, he kisses her spine while he unclips her bra, pushing each strap off her arms with kisses to her shoulders, he cups her breasts and kisses up to her ear again, âlay down.âÂ
She listens, he gets between her legs and peels her underwear off. Raising her right leg, he kisses her knee and down her thigh, as he gets on his stomach, he looks up at her for permission and all she can do is nod because this seems unreal. His big beautiful brown eyes are looking at her from between her legs as he kisses the most intimate part of her body and sheâs in heaven.Â
Sheâs died and gone to heaven. The train mustâve crashed and sheâs in her own personalized forever with the man of her dreamsâŚ. But it didnât. This is real and happening and she should be enjoying it.Â
She grips his hair, and her back arches as she moans into the contact, heâs so fucking good with his mouth because of course he is? Is there anything this man canât do?
Full of love and zero expectations or worry, she feels herself getting closer to an orgasm so much faster than she has with anyone else ever. Not even herself. Normally sheâs so in her head, so nervous and worried or barely being taken care of⌠this one just sneaks up on her, trembling through her, she grips his hair a little tighter and moans out his name, âOh, oh Iâm cumming, Iâmâ oh!âÂ
He laps up every last drop as she rides it out, overstimulating her slightly, and he can tell. He pulls back with a grin, proud of himself and enjoying the way she looks so fucked out like this.Â
He kisses back up her tummy, between her boobs and then hovers over her while sheâs still catching her breath, âhiâŚâÂ
She smiles, âHi?âÂ
âReady for me to show you the rest?âÂ
âThereâs more?â She teases, âYou love me more than that?â
He laughs, âYeah, that was just a tasteâŚâÂ
She pulls him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. âMm, a good taste.âÂ
âYouâre telling me,â he growls. âI could do that every day for the rest of my life.âÂ
âAnd Iâd let youâŚâÂ
He kisses her again, cause if he doesnât, she wonât stop teasing him.Â
Kissing him while coming down from her high, feels unreal. Sheâs floating on a cloud, and might as well be on drugsâ it feels too good, she moans against him, legs wrapped around him, she never wants to let him go. He kisses the side of her mouth, âbabyâ
She hums, pulling him back in for another kiss.Â
He pulls back, âI canât fuck you with my boxers still on.âÂ
She sighs, pretending itâs more work than it is, âFine, take âem off.âÂ
He shakes his head with a smile as she lets him go and heâs able to push his boxers off. âAnd I need to grab a condomâ
âdid you bring condoms?â She sounds shocked.Â
He nods, âyeah⌠I didnât expect anything, I just always have some in my toiletries bag.âÂ
She watches his cute ass jiggle as he walks towards his bag, he squats to undo the zipper and she tries not to laugh at the view of his balls dangling but itâs so endearing somehow? Heâs real and there and heâs about to rock her world.Â
Heâs quick to grab what he wants, he rips the condom open with his teeth and tosses the wrapper to the floor as he rolls it on right beside the bed. She watches carefully, eyes scanning his whole body. She hasnât really had a good look at him while naked yet, heâs been pressed against the bed or on top of her. But damn.Â
âJesus,â she whispers under her breath.Â
He smirks, âwhat?âÂ
She waves her hand around in his general direction, âYou just walk around with all that under your suits every day?âÂ
He shakes his head again, âI could say the same thing about you.âÂ
He crawls back onto the bed, between her legs again, one hand on the bed as he hovers over her, âyou okay with this position?âÂ
She nods, âperfectly okay with it. Itâs a very underrated position.âÂ
âMhm,â he agrees, leaning in to kiss her again. One hand on her hip, he grinds himself against her, âReady?âÂ
She nodded, watching as he lets go of her hip to grip himself at the base, she spreads her legs a bit more and he taps her clit once just for fun but it makes her whine, âDonât tease me.âÂ
âBut you can tease me?â He asks, head right at her entrance, about to push in⌠she nods and thatâs when he does it. Watching her head tip back with a silent moan. âNow I know how to get you quiet.âÂ
He goes back to rest his hand on her hip but she reaches for them and interlocks their fingers, instead. He bottomed out and dropped to hover over her once more, bringing their interlocked hands over her head.Â
She reached up to kiss him, but Aaron pushed into the kiss and made her settle into the pillow once again. It honestly felt like a movie scene, the first time between two star-crossed lovers. He pulled out ever so slightly before thrusting in again, she gasped against his mouth. Aaron trusted more while she pushed her hips into it as well, an offbeat rhythm developed in pure ecstasy. She let go of Aaronâs hands to snake them around his waist, to run her fingers over the soft and slightly chilled skin of his back. Feeling the bump of his spine Aaron ducked into the crook of her neck, placing kisses along her collarbone.
He changed the position of his thrust as he wrapped his arms under her, arching her back ever so slightly to reach the bundle of nerves that left her a quivering mess. She, in response to the added pleasure, ran her sharp nails down Aaronâs back and he groaned at the feeling, âdo that again.â he requested.
âLike that?â She asked, dragging his nails down him once more.
âYeah,â Aaron moaned, dark and deep. âMark me⌠where no one can see it, only you know tomorrow.â
So she does, she runs her nails over his back with more intent, knowing there will be 8 red lines spread down his back in the morning. Just then, he starts to kiss lower, down to her boobs, where he sucks a mark that shouldn't be visible in her dress tomorrow⌠he wanted to mark her just as bad. But his kisses quickly return to her neck and lower ear.Â
âAaron,â she moans out. âGo a little faster?âÂ
He does as she asks, keeping that loving feeling but picking up the pace. The feeling of pure bliss overtook her body with each thrust, warm chills ran through him with each brush of his thumb on her clit. Every kiss to her neck and squeeze around her waist made her feel like she was on fire. The hairs on her arms stood up, and goosebumps formed along his forearms. Aaron kissed from her neck to her nipple and took the hard nib into his mouth causing her to moan like she never had before.
âAaron,â she panted, pulling Aaronâs face back up to his.
His eyes were absolutely blown out in pleasure, those chocolate wonders he used to stare into were now replaced solely by the pupils. She ran her thumb across Aaronâs cheek before reaching to the nape of his neck to pull him into another kiss. Open mouths pressed together, hot air on each otherâs faces as they panted to the pleasure.
She was in heaven.
Her orgasm bubbled in her stomach, âare you close?â Aaron whispered right beside her mouth, kissing her cheek lightly after.
She hummed, unable to speak with the mass amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Aaron fucked into her a bit harder, a tiny bit faster, hitting her G-spot dead on each time to the point the nerves in her thighs were quaking uncontrollably.
She was so close, Aaron used 3 fingers to quickly rub over her clit before she threw her head back with a shout. Cumming with her eyes pressed shut, pleasure coursed through her body stronger than sheâs ever felt before.
Nothing had ever made her cum that hard, ripping through her like her soul was leaving her body. She dug her nails deep into Aaronâs skin holding him close to his body while he kept thrusting.
A high-pitched gasp left his lips, close to her ear as his hips sputtered into hers one last time. She still hadnât opened her eyes, her breath rigid, she felt winded. Aaron had stilled as he came inside of her and then collapsed into her, deadweight lying on her.
But she didnât mind. Not in the slightest. She wrapped herself around him even tighter and kissed the side of his head, âI love you, too.âÂ
He kisses her neck, âI canât believe I was afraid to tell youâŚâÂ
âSilly man, we couldâve been doing that the whole time,â she teases him again the first chance she gets.Â
He huffs a little laugh out of his nose, smiling against her. âWe can do this all the time now.âÂ
âMhm,â she squeezes him a little tighter. âI hope you know this means weâre dating now. I donât just fuck anyone. Especially not my bossâŚâÂ
He manages to push himself up to look at her, and the look on his face says it all. âYeah, I know⌠and Iâll handle the paperwork when we get back.âÂ
â
They get all dolled up together, between kisses and flirting and teasing⌠they end up fully dressed, presents in hand, on their way to the party. They hold hands the whole cab ride over, up the elevator and into the booming restaurant.Â
Itâs entirely booked out for her sisterâs party, on the top floor of a fancy building. Itâs completely catered, there are fancy waiters walking around with trays of hors dâoeuvres and expensive champagne. They have their gifts taken from their hands upon arrival and their hands are instantly filled with a drink. She looks around, looking for the first person she knows well and spots her mom and dad over on the other side of the room.Â
âCome with me, I have some people I want you to meetâŚâ she says as she leads him through the crowd.Â
Heâs nervous but more excited. She gets to show him off and this isnât a lie. He really is her boyfriend and they are in love and happy and this is everything heâs ever wanted. With his hand around her waist the whole time, shoulder to shoulder, he meets her parents and her sister. He shakes hands with her dad and her new brother-in-law, he gets hugs from the mom and sister, theyâre looking at her with eyes that he can hear. Theyâre saying how much of an improvement he is to the last guy, theyâre amazed at how handsome he is, and he blushes slightly in response.Â
âSo how long has this been going on?â Her dad asks.Â
She looks up at him and smiles, âNot long, but weâre really happy.âÂ
âThe happiest,â he agrees, stealing a quick kiss from her that makes the women swoon.Â
âYou know, this is fantastic,â her sister announces. âI was worried youâd be upset to see Brad and Cameron here together but now you have Aaron and theyâre not even coming anymore. Something happened⌠I donât even think theyâre together anymore.âÂ
âOh?â Sheâs completely shocked to hear that.Â
âOnce a cheater always a cheater,â her brother-in-law says under his breath with the roll of his eyes.Â
âWe see it all the time at work,â Aaron agrees. âItâs pathological. They crave attention so intensely that theyâll do anything to get it, to the detriment of the people they love. They cheat because for a moment theyâre the most important person, theyâre attractive enough to get who they want and powerful enough to get away with it. And even when it blows up in their face they can play the âyou wouldnât be this mad if you werenât so obsessed with meâ card.âÂ
âThatâs Brad,â her dad agrees. âGood riddance, honestly.âÂ
âLetâs just leave it there,â her mom announces. âWeâre here for Lindsay and Connor.âÂ
âItâs been lovely to meet you Aaron, but we have a lot of people to mingle with,â Lindsay announces and Connor sighs. âWeâll talk again later?âÂ
âSounds good,â Y/N lets them head off and then sheâs just with her parents. âUm, Iâm hungry⌠Aaron, did you want to go raid the snacks?âÂ
âIâd love to,â he agrees. âIt was lovely to meet you both.âÂ
âWe hope to see you again regularly?â Her mother throws in.Â
âI donât plan on going anywhere,â he assures, âyou should get used to me.âÂ
She manages to pull him away from them, a little overwhelmed and so in love with him. She gets him to an empty corner and looks up at him like heâs crazy, âdid you seriously say that?âÂ
He nods, âWhat part of last night didnât you understand? Iâm madly in love with you. I would marry you tomorrow if it wouldnât take the attention off your sister.âÂ
She just laughs, shocked and amazed that he just said that. âReally?âÂ
âYes. Really.âÂ
She shakes her head in disbelief, âo-okay⌠but you still have to ask me. I donât need anything big and extravagant and Iâd like to maybe pick the ring out with you if you want butâ
âYou want to?âÂ
She nods, that teasing smirk he loves so much plastered on her face, âI donât just want to be your work wife, Aaron.âÂ
âWeâll revisit this in the new year⌠I need Jack to know about this and be okay with it before I spring a step-mom on him,â he explains.Â
âI wouldnât have it any other way.â
General TaglistÂ
@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#hotch smut#hotch x reader#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine
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Iâm so glad I met you || Amanda Ilestedt x reader
Request | Masterlist | Prompt list
Warning pregnancy
Summary Youâre at one of the lowest points of your life but one day, you run into a nice lady, but unknowingly to you, she changes your whole world
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Meeting Amanda had come at the most unexpected moment.
You were in a state when she first met you, having broken up with your ex fiancĂŠ a few days prior.
Youâd walked in on him with another woman in bed and he confessed to having an affair for months.
Despite the fact it was him cheating, it was him that left, leaving you to care for your one your old daughter, and your future baby that lay bundled in your stomach.
So, it was definitely safe to say you were a state when Amanda first saw you.
Youâd found a small flat for you and your daughter, Ava, to move into that was in St Albans, and it just so happened that Amanda was also new to the area.
So when, Amanda found out someone else was also new, she knocked on your door with some homemade cookies.
âThis is so sweet of you, thank you.â You said, fumbling on your words due to the thought of how pretty she was. âIâm Y/N by the way.â
âAmanda.â
âWould you like a drink, Amanda?â You asked, walking round to the kettle.
âThat would be great, thank you.â
You both made your way to the living room with your drinks.
It was weird, youâd only met Amanda five minutes ago, but it felt like youâd known her a lot longer.
âSo what made you move here?â Amanda asked, taking a sip from her coffee.
âI found my fiance cheating on me. He said heâd been having an affair for over five months. I decided to leave town after that so I came here, I donât know why I chose here exactly.â You explained
âOh, Iâm so sorry.â Amanda said, resting hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently.
âWhy did you move here?â
âI play football and moved to arsenal.â Amanda revealed casually
âWow, thatâs big, theyâre a big team, well done.â
âYeah, itâs good there, Iâm happy there. So, any family here?â Amanda intrigued, looking around to see any hints as to another life living with you but everything around was just boxes.
As if on cue, a coo and babble was heard over the baby monitor.
âSheâs just woken up. Iâll go get her to answer your question.â You smiled, jumping up to grab Ava from her room. âHi bubba. Amanda, this is my daughter, Ava.â
âAww, sheâs cute. Hi Ava.â Amanda cooed, Ava waving at her before resting her on your chest.
You sat Ava on the floor, grabbing a few of her toys from a box and setting them in front of her. That would keep her entertained whilst you spoke to Amanda.
âHow old is she?â
âShe turned one last month.â You responded, watching Ava play with her toys.
âSweet. Is she your only child?â
âFor now⌠in six months time that will change.â You began, Amandaâs face having a confused look on it. âIâm also three months pregnant. My fiancĂŠ and I always wanted a big family and so we started trying a few months ago and I ended up pregnant but unbeknownst to me, he was cheating the whole time.â
âOh my god. Iâm so sorry, Y/N.â
You wiped your tears away before looking up to smile at Amanda, a very weak smile at that but still.
âIâll find a new life here. Thatâs the promise I made myself when I moved in.â You told her and she nodded.
âIâd love to be apart of that new life. Anyway, I best get going. Itâs been lovely getting to know you. Can I have your number so we can arrange another get together. Iâd love to see you again.â Amanda said, reaching for her phone.
You of course gave her your number, quickly arranging another time when you were both free.
Amanda left soon after, leaving you with a massive smile on your face.
â
It had been four months since the first meeting with Amanda.
Since, youâd become the best of friends and you may have started falling for her.
You were constantly at each others flats, going out for the day, you were like a small family.
She went with for your scans and appointments, everything that your ex fiancĂŠ should have been doing.
You couldnât help but fall for her, but she would never like you back.
I mean, youâre a single mother with a toddler and was set to give birth in two months time. She wouldnât want to date you.
But boy were you wrong though.
One afternoon, you were laying around watching a film whilst Ava napped when you heard a knock at the door.
You opened it to see Amanda stood there with a big bouquet of flowers.
âY/N, the second I met you, I knew I liked you. All along when weâve been friends, I couldnât help but wonder what it would have been like if we were more than friends. I think I like you Y/N, more than just friends. And I understand if you donât want to have a partner in your life just yet butââ Amanda rambled but you couldnât help but just kiss her.
Your lips move slowly over hers, the kiss full of warmth and passion.
âWill you be my girlfriend?â Amanda asked as she pulled away from the kiss.
You nodded before hesitating. âYes, but Mandy, my kids areâŚâ
ââŚyour whole world. Theyâre mine too. You and the kids are my family, and Iâd love to be apart of your family if youâd let me.â
âAva loves you so I already know what her answer would be and I would want nothing more than for you to be apart of our family.â
âI love you.â Amanda announced
âI love you too.â
â
It had been a long day.
After ten hours in labour, your second daughter entered the world.
Amanda stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand and helping you through your contractions.
âWhoâs cutting the cord?â The nurse asked as you looked down at your baby girl.
âMandy. Youâre her mummy in my eyes. You cut it.â You told her, tears welling in Amandaâs eyes.
The nurse took your daughter away soon after, cleaning her up and checking her over.
When she was handed back over to you, you gestured for Amanda to take her.
âIâve only known you for six months, Mandy, but youâre like her other mum.â You explained, and Amanda nodded along, tears streaming down her face as she looked at the baby in her arms. âIâm so lucky I met you.â
#woso#woso community#woso x reader#woso imagine#womens football#woso fanfics#amanda ilestedt#amanda Ilestedt x reader
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not according to plan | hjs (teaser)
summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his.
pairing: joshua x f.reader genre: fake dating, strangers to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut rating: explicit (in the full fic), minors DNI word count: ~1.1k in this teaser (full fic ~22k) notes: johnny suh as the ex (sorry!), also includes other idols not in seventeen solely as face claims, there's a heavy focus on the fake dating, mentions of food & drink, warnings to be added to the final fic fic post date: friday, april 26th (full fic here)
a/n: i started this legit months ago as kind of a joke, talking about it with @shuadotcom but it's finally done (and a lot longer than i anticipated).
thank you to: @wonwussy & @kwanisms who read over this for me (too long ago), and to @cheolism @wooahaeproductions @hannieween, & sj for all the brainstorming help along the way. tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone @crepecakeu
if you'd like to be tagged in this fic (or any of my fics), comment, click here for my tag list, or send an ask đ
You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghanâs friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, heâs somewhat new to the area, doesnât know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. Thereâs no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but heâs not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what heâs walking into.Â
Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when theyâll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because âmeeting him for the first time at a wedding is gaucheâ and we wouldnât want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesnât actually exist since you havenât posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesnât seem to allay her suspicions, though.Â
Then, thereâs the fact that youâre actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldnât exactly press the point. Not when youâre planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your exâs wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you donât know what Joshua looks like. Donât know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that heâll already be at the table when you get there.
It works.
When you give the reservation name at the host stand, youâre immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. Itâs not even that you struggle around new people, this is justâŚwell, itâs a lot. Itâs out of anyoneâs comfort zone. Whatever youâre expecting, itâs not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks.Â
His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. Thatâs all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While youâre appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you.Â
In one fluid motion, heâs standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, thereâs nothing you can do. Youâre completely captivated.Â
âYou must be Joshua,â you say. Brilliant, you think. Thatâs obvious.
âItâs nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,â he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you.Â
âI feel like he hardly told me about you,â you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.
âThen why did you agree to go out with me?â Joshua asks.Â
âGo out withâŚis this a date?â The question comes tumbling out.Â
Joshuaâs eyes widen in genuine confusion. âIs it not?âÂ
âWhat, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?âÂ
A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how heâs somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information.Â
In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact thatâs hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks heâs crafty and isnât going to come out and tell this man what youâre really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that âoffhand commentâ was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what heâs getting into. Rookie move.)
Now youâre in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans youâve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. Itâs justâŚwell, youâre absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. Itâs just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.
To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didnât actually realize it was a date. Itâs hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that heâs absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that youâre not actually looking for something right now. Interesting.Â
âSo thatâs the whole thing and now that Iâve embarrassed myself in front of you, Iâm sure youâll understand if we never see each other after tonight,â you finish.
âHow am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we donât see each other after tonight?â Joshua wonders.
let me know if you want to be tagged when i post the full fic next week đ (and what you think so far)
#joshua smut#joshua fluff#joshua angst#joshua x reader#joshua x you#joshua x y/n#joshua fic#joshua fanfic#seventeen smut#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt x you#svt smut#svt fluff#svt angst#svthub#kvanity#joshua imagines#joshua scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt imagines#svt scenarios
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The honeyed spring air only proved to prod at your deep, growing, carnal fury at the scene in front of you. The wooden stilts of your fan dug further and further into the expensive lace of your thin sheer gloves, leaving bright red lines in its wake. As you stared at the traitorous scene in front of you, you felt as if your entire being was thrown into a wall.Â
You shouldâve known, really, that it was going to end like this. You shouldâve known when the greasy money-tainted rat of your soon-to-be ex-fiance crawled out of his cave and to the royal palace, rubbing his hands together in faux prayer as he asked about your dowry. You were sure Seungcheol told him too â all fifteen million won of it. You could imagine how Lord Pareeâs eyes would have seen the backs of his skull at the number â how he probably left the gilded royal palace in sheer bliss at the thought of receiving the monetary sum of three city estates just for a single marriage. Maggot, you thought, nails almost digging through the lace. Money-drunken parasite.Â
A high-pitched dolphin giggle and a snap! of a fan slapped you out of your red-seeing stupor.Â
Right. Yes.Â
Dealing with (yet another) failed engagement was more important than the consequences that would follow. You could almost hear the concerned jabberings of Seungcheol, fur-wrapped on his stupid golden throne in the palace, as you stood in front of him.Â
âYour highness, you arenât married either,â you would point out, like you always do.Â
Seungcheol would sigh and pout, âI know, y/n. That seems to be the problem.â Then, he would scan you up and down before clapping, jumping out of his throne and meandering his way down to where you were standing with a grin. âWhat kind of guardian,â he offered you his arm as he led you out of the throne room, âwould I be if I got married before I saw you get married?â He pinched your cheek lightly, letting out a loud laugh at your severely disgruntled expression. âDonât you agree, Duchess Park?âÂ
You would close your eyes with a long sigh, pretending like this conversation wasnât one of Seungcheolâs only topics of interest since her debut into Society. âOf course, your highness,â you would mumble, muttering a few more colorful adjectives under your breath as you were led unwillingly to your fifth courtship date request of the month.Â
If you knew then that your fourth engagement â in one and a half years, mind you â would end up shattered shambles yet again, you wouldnât have even let Seungcheol drag you to the royal gardenâs mezzanine for afternoon tea with that bastard in the first place.Â
Really, you werenât quite sure whether you were more angry at the fact that the idle-headed useless block of skin tissue or at the all gracious, ever-knowing royal highness for setting you two up together in a future cheating scandal. That was true. Yet fucking again.Â
You were so tired of snatching the tea pot off of the wire-frame tables and throwing it at the girl (like it was the poor ladyâs fault) before bitch-slapping your ex fiance with as much malice as you could muster at the time. Genuinely. You were so sick of walking into the next ball with no one by your side, save your secretary and personal guard, yet again. You were going to throw up if you heard your name with the words cheating, scandal, and shame in a Society gathering again. But most importantly, you were so sick of the look he would give you from across the ballroom and during your dances.Â
âI heard about you and Lord Paree.âÂ
A step into a waltz.
âSo has the rest of the fucking country, apparently.âÂ
A stifled cough let out due to your unexpectedly colorful language.Â
âI wouldnât say the entire nation, y/n.âÂ
âHm, I fear I will have to disagree, your grace, as I heard even Duke Hongâs footmen murmur among themselves regarding my unfortunate turn of events.âÂ
A falter in his soft smile.Â
âForget him. Iâve always thought of him as an undeserving bastard anyways.â
You laugh, head thrown back â the most joyous you have been since last week.Â
âShall I be glad that youâve thought so, your grace?âÂ
Wonwoo shrugs, twirling you around in tight circles. You feel almost lightheaded from his cologne, mingling in with the gentle puffs of breath from the waltz.Â
âThink of it however you want,â he hums, dipping you ever so slightly against the sudden base of the cello. You swallow a surprised gasp as his hand, originally on your upper back, dips dangerously low â for a moment, sitting gently against the hem of your corset.Â
The two of you come to a halt near the edge of the ballroom floor. You hate how you can feel a flush coming on the apples of your cheeks the longer Wonwoo stares at you, an odd mixture of pity and something else swimming in his eyes behind the metal-frame glasses.Â
You bow, one hand on your chest. You know you donât have to â he is of the same societal position as you. You know you donât have to, but it feels almost second nature to go low into a curtsy of some kind in front of a man.Â
âThank you, your grace, for this dance,â you murmur, lifting your head back up. Wonwoo stays quiet for a good moment, before he blinks.Â
âFind yourself another date for your second dance, yes? Someone better than that cheating bastard,â he hums. You think heâs about to reach for your gloved hand but his hands stay at his side â the only indicator of movement a slight twitch in his fingers. You force down your disappointment.Â
Instead, you smile. There is nothing else for you to do, anyways. Seungcheol, although good of heart, would have another engagement for you lined up in no time. And with that, you would need to forget. Forgive and forget. You realize youâve spent too much time in front of the Archdukeâs son when you feel the presence of your guard behind you.Â
âI will see you soon,â you greet, before you turn and leave. If you had stayed to hear his response, you feel like you would have stayed with Wonwoo for the entire night. And that was not very ladylike.
Wonwoo
âWonwoo, one day youâre going to have to live for something else.âÂ
Seungcheolâs breaths came out in heaving pants as the two took a brief break from their sparring session in the royal palaceâs courtyard.Â
Wonwoo just raised a brow, wiping sweat off of his brow with his discarded shirt. âWhat do you mean by that, your majesty?âÂ
Seungcheol waved away the title. âDrop the pretense, friend. What I mean is,â Seungcheol dropped his empty water jug on the wooden bench, before bringing his sword up to his face, âone day youâre gonna realize you have more to live for than just this.â Seungcheol gestured vaguely towards the desolate sparring grounds.Â
Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing dusts of sand off of his glinting blade. His fingers flexed on the leather grip. âI donât live for just this, Coups. I know my responsibilities more than you think I do,â he sighed.
Seungcheol raised a questioning brow, stepping back into the sparring grounds with a twirl of his sword. âYou sure?â his voice echoed, which was followed by unfamiliar click-clacks of a womanâs heels. Seungcheol cocked his head and grinned, canines showing, as he squatted down low, flicking his fingers at Wonwoo. âThen why are you asking to go out to fight? You might die.âÂ
Wonwoo cracked his neck before running at the young king, Their swords clashed in the middle of the sparring grounds, flickers of their manas bursting outwards. Smoky tendrils of black gravitated and fogged the ground near Wonwooâs feet, curling themselves around his chest and slowly inching up his neck, before blending in with his hair.Â
Wonwoo grunted in exertion, pushing Seungcheol back with the help of his mana. The king slammed into the back wall before landing back on his feet. Wonwoo stood over him, panting. Sweat dripped down his temples and his mana curled itself around his bare arms, against the contours of the muscles that laid there.Â
âIt is the only thing I am good for,â Wonwoo stated. His words came out soft, almost a whisper, as his hand stretched out towards Seungcheol.Â
Seungcheol took a second more in his position, staring into Wonwooâs despairing eyes. The dark browns looked more conflicted than Seungcheol had ever known. His own eyes darted towards the figure that stood in the opening archway of the courtyard. He could barely make out the face, under the layers of shadows, but he knew. He had called her here anyway. Not here as in the courtyard but here as in the palace. It was though, of course, purely coincidental that she had walked to the courtyard of her own volition.Â
Seungcheol grasped Wonwooâs hand, hauling himself off of the sandy ground.Â
âYouâre willing to leave your duchy? Your Society life?â Seungcheol stood in front of Wonwoo with his sword at his side. He gave the young archduke a knowing look. âEven the duchess?âÂ
Wonwoo stiffened at Seungcheolâs ending words, his hand stilling, hovering the tip of his sword at the entrance of its sheath. He swallowed. The sword dropped with a loud CLANG into its home in the sheath. He looked up at the king, who looked almost expectant.Â
âYes,â was his answer. He straightened, brushing sweaty strands of his black hair out of his eyes. âYes, I am.âÂ
Before Seungcheol, with furrowed brows and disappointment flurrying in his eyes, could open his mouth, a quiet scoff rang out, ripping the silence between the two men into shreds.Â
Wonwooâs head snapped to the archway where the sound had echoed from, fingers curling around the grip of his sword. His other arm pushed Seungcheol behind him, which earned him a noise of protest from the older man.Â
âWon-â
âThereâs someone there,â was what Wonwoo said, before he stepped closer, into the shadows of the archway. The face that met him left him unable to breathe â as if his lungs had been squeezed out of oxygen from the inside; as if his entire being was wringed; as if someone had, one by one, cut the tendons of his muscles, rendering him absolutely useless.Â
âI have been delusioned,â a cold, shaking voice started, âof our relationship, your grace.â You bowed deeply, silken hair falling over your shoulders, petals of the flowers in your hair dancing in the soft breeze, hand tight-fisted on your chest. âI ask for your apology in my,â a deafening pause, âassuming nature.âÂ
BANG
The sword fell out of Wonwooâs limp hand. He rushed forward, almost tripping over his own feet and forgetting his look of indecency, leaving Seungcheol long forgotten in the edges of the sparring grounds.Â
âY/n,â he breathed, hands gently holding your upper arms. âY/n, you misunderstand,â he hurried, forcing you to stand properly. The sight afterwards almost made him wish he let you stay in your bow.Â
Your crystalline eyes were glassy and he could make out the glistening pools of unshed tears that poked against your charcoal waterline. Your lips stretched thin over your teeth in an attempt at a reassuring smile. But he knew you better than that â he knew more than half of the emotions that swirled behind your watery eyes and he knew what the tremblings of the corners of your lips meant. What it meant for you, for him, for the two of you.Â
You shook your head, shuffling back against the rough grounds. A small laugh escaped your mouth. Your glossy pink lips curled up in a practiced smile â too robotic, too mirror-practiced, too Society for him to comprehend. It sent his mind reeling. It sent his mind reeling because you had heard what he shouldnât have said. Because he was so used to seeing your dimpled smile in his embrace.
âNo,â you responded, pushing his hands off of your lace-covered arms with trembling fingers. Your touch was soft but firm â a boundary that was unfamiliar in his realm. âI apologize for intruding, your grace, your highness,â another bow â this time at Seungcheol, who just waved her off from his position picking up the strewn wooden swords, âI will take my leave now.âÂ
A noncommittal noise rose from the back of Wonwooâs throat and his hand wrapped around your wrist habitually, only to be shaken off without a single backwards look and a shuddering sigh as you walked away, head held high and hands shaking by your side.Â
Wonwoo wasnât stupid. He knew when to take a hint.Â
âIâm not sure if you started a problem or made an existing problem worse.âÂ
Wonwoo shot a glare towards Seungcheol. âThank you for your wise words, your highness. They are so helpful in my current situation,â he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.Â
Seungcheol sighed, shrugging as he dumped the wooden swords inside of a crate. âLook at it this way,â he pointed out, ânow you are free to go do your battling. Without any ties.âÂ
Seungcheol handed Wonwoo his discarded sword, eyebrows raised.Â
âRight?âÂ
Wonwoo gave him no answer, only staring at your shadowed retreating form that walked now in the sunlight past the archway. He only stared as you, with a curt nod to a footman, entered the main palace halls again.Â
âWonwoo?â Seungcheol repeated. âYou there?âÂ
Wonwoo blindly nodded, fidgeting with the loose ends of his sheath. âYes. Yes, maybe,â was his vague answer, mumbled softly under his breath. And all through Seungcheolâs next set of rants about Society politics and the ongoing problems around the Northern border of Obella, the only thing Wonwoo could think of was the alien tightening of his chest â so much so that his lungs felt off and his heart hurt to breathe.Â
Wonwoo was sick and tired of the stench of blood and rusting iron. He was sick and tired of the habitual curl of his fingers around the hilt of his battle-worn sword at every small crack in the woods. And he was sick and tired of being away â away from the Capitol, away from his duchy, away from her.Â
So when, one morning, his best friend and commanding officer Soonyoung, came into his tent with a cream-colored envelope with a familiar crest stamped on the front, it felt like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders.
His tent flap fluttered as a head of blonde ducked in Wonwooâs sleep tent.Â
âGuess what a little birdie flew in with this pleasantly fine morning?â Soonyoung grinned, leaning against one of the poles of the tent, arms crossed.
Wonwoo looked up from his place sitting on his chair, sharpening his sword. His glasses hung low on his nose and his naked back rippled with aching muscles. He deadpanned, recognizing the crest as the royal crest. âWhat?â he hummed, standing up and setting his sword and whetting stone down. âAnother commission from our dear king?â he scoffed, unwilling bitterness seeping into his words.Â
Of course, he did not blame King Seungcheol for his current predicament. Actually, he did, just a little bit. But of course, not all of the situation. Around three fifths was because of himself â because he was greedy and ambitious and begged to be sent to the National Academy and rose to the top of his Weapons class. It was his fault, was what he told himself, that he was on his third year out in the battlefields in the north, fighting the royal battles for a king that presented himself to be one of Wonwooâs closest friends. Of course an inconspicuous bitterness would form.Â
Hoshi laughed, his own bare torso glinting in the early morning sunlight. He handed Wonwoo the letter. âOh, you wish, Wonwoo,â Hoshi said, clapping his friend on the back. He squeezed as Wonwooâs eyes skimmed over its contents. He could almost feel Hoshiâs smile from behind him.Â
âCongratulations, my friend,â Hoshi laughed, âYou have officially been reinvited to Society!âÂ
Wonwooâs face crumpled into an off mixture of disappointment, relief, and boredom. Society? That was what Seungcheol was pulling him out of these battles for? Out of everything, Society?Â
âSociety?â he scoffed. The hollow, fakeness of The Capitolâs Society was what awaited him outside of the violent woods? His fingers tightened on the thick parchment.Â
The fact that it was Society wasnât the aspect that pissed him off down to his bones. It was the fact that Seungcheol knew why he gave up Society to begin with.Â
Suddenly, Hoshiâs squinted eyes filled Wonwooâs vision. His blonde-bleached eyebrows were furrowed on his face. âWhy do I feel like youâre not happy to be going back?âÂ
Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his eyes closing ever so slightly. His chest felt tight. âBecause, Hoshi,â he grumbled, ripping up the letter and tossing it into his lantern flame, âI fucking hate Society.âÂ
Wonwoo watched as the tattered pieces of the ripped parchment crumble into the orange-red flames. It was his fault, he guessed. Going back to Society, to the Capitol, was something he knew he had to face, once his reign among the knights was over. Three years, even for a man like him, was a long time to not show your face even once in a public Society event. He guessed this was Seungcheolâs passive reminder: get to your duties. He could almost hear it in his head.Â
Hoshi shook his head in faux disappointment, tsking. âThought you knew better than that, Archduke Jeon. You nobility need to perform part of your duties, after all.â Hoshiâs grin makes Wonwooâs lips stretch into a slight smile. âWhat? Has the battlefield ridden you of your noble blood, your grace?â Hoshi asked with an eyebrow raise.Â
Wonwoo just shook his head with a small smile and a sigh. But he couldnât shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being called an archduke. Being called your grace. Those were titles he was used to seeing his father carry â his father, who was a charismatic ruler, his father, who loved deeply and truly, and his father, who lay cold and lifeless in the Jeon Family cemetery next to his mother for two years.Â
Hoshi was not wrong, he knew. He knew there would be a time he would have to return to the very thing he hated the most about staying in the Capitol, about being a noble; whether or not he returned by his own volition was the question. And apparently Seungcheol had deemed three years, three years too much. The churning in his stomach could not be described as anything else but uncertainty.Â
As Hoshi talked animatedly, with flailing arms, about the night before, when the soldiers had broken out crates of rum and beer to celebrate the strengthening of the Northern borders from the âevil spirits,â as they had called them, Wonwoo stared into the crackling lantern flame. If he returned to Society, as per the royal decree and as per his friendâs request, he would have to face the portraits that hung on his Capitol estateâs portrait hall. He would have to walk through the halls of his own home that had once been full of deeper, older, wiser, laughter of his parents without them. He would have to face the claustrophobia-inducing, over crowded ballrooms of the private high society gatherings, attend meaningless hunting outings, and present himself to the greater nobility public like some sort of relic or trophy to be garnished with wreaths and golden medals of bravery after the three year battle.Â
But, of course, that was not all of the Society he had left behind. He had left behind a deeper, lovelier Society as well. Something â someone, he should say â that if he had any say in, he would keep hidden in the deepest parts of his heart. Someone, if he returned, who would â no, could â never be his again. She was not someone who waited around â especially if they had left like he did.Â
But perhapsâŚ
No.Â
No, no, no.Â
He shook his head.Â
He could not bring his hopes up for nothing. He had a duty â to his duchy, to his family, to the legacy his father left behind, and to his country.Â
âI donât know if Iâm ready,â Wonwoo mumbles. Mostly to himself, yet Hoshi quietens in his rant at his friendâs words.Â
Hoshi drags a wooden chair over, swinging his legs around it to sit â chest against its back. âFor Society orâŚâ Hoshi does not need to finish his question for Wonwoo to understand. It is implied, as it always had been between the two of them.Â
Wonwoo sighed, burying his head in his hands. The balls of his palm rub into his battle-weary eyes. âFor everything. My responsibilities, Society, the entry celebrations, andâŚâ Now Wonwoo poses the discarded ending. Hoshi knows, he decides for himself. He knows already. Wonwoo could tell from his knowing glance out the tent flap.Â
âYouâve had responsibilities out on the battlefield, Woo. I believe your archducal duties are of a similar hierarchy?â Hoshi twirled a quill in his hand. The commander veers out of the way of the silent topic with a quick glance that promises Wonwoo another conversation â preferably over a glass of wine â in another time.Â
Wonwoo let out a tired laugh. âYou jest. I fear my archducal duties far outrank the simple hierarchy of my responsibilities on the battlefield.âÂ
Hoshi shrugged. âIt is what you believe, sir.âÂ
âIt is what I believe,â Wonwoo murmured to himself. A hand slid down his face as he slouched down in his chair, a tired sigh escaping the battle-worn caverns of his lungs. âFuck.âÂ
One of King Seungcheolâs infamous re-entry balls was decided to be held in honor of Archduke Jeon returning to the Capitol, signifying his re-entrance into Societyâs cluster of feathers and prim-propers from his years in the battlefields.Â
âDo you know how uncomfortable wearing this cape is?â Wonwoo complains for the fourth time, tugging at the golden lapels that hold the thick fabric to his shoulders. He huffs in apparent annoyance as the golden tips of the royal palaceâs towers loom overhead when the carriage rattles to a slow trot and then a stop.Â
Hoshi, from his seat across Wonwoo, rolls his eyes, his own body decorated with the uniform of the royal knights, and a long gleaming sword hanging off of his hip. âOh boo hoo,â he mutters, stepping out of the carriage as soon as the door opens. He dusts his white pants with a concluding groan as Wonwoo mutters something under his breath.Â
âWhat?â Wonwoo snaps, âWhen has it changed so that a man cannot simply complain about his uncomfortable and ill-fit dressings for a ball?â Wonwoo retorts. A strand of hair fell in his face as he crossed his arms. His tight military uniform â decorated diligently with captain stars, rings of honor, and golden medals of bravery â strains against his biceps. He stands next to Hoshi, adjusting his formal tie with a displeased wince of discomfort. âI would have much rather preferred-â
â-Wonwoo!â Hoshi interjects, a rough hand coming down harshly against Wonwooâs back. One look in Hoshiâs eyes and Wonwoo hesitates to finish his sentence. âMy friend, please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. You look fine,â Hoshi groaned, walking up to the palace doors with Wonwoo in tow. âYou should have expected this anyways,â he continues, giving a curt nod to the footmen that open the doors, âThis is a ball held in your honor,â a familiar turn into a wider hallway, âRemember?â Hoshiâs neat uniform is pin-straight as he walks down the marbled halls. âAnd weâre already late. Do you want to get passive aggressively eaten alive by Society the first day back in noble action?â he throws Wonwooâs way with a quick glance over his shoulder with a teasing grin.
Wonwoo sighs, following Hoshi through the gilded halls of the too-familiar palace. He could almost picture his younger self â five years old â running through the very halls, with Prince Mingyu and (then) Prince Seungcheol hot on his heels, all three of them giggling about something for another. He could picture the two of them, laughing â him with his head thrown back and her with her fan over her pretty pink lips â during the boring parts of each and every palace ball. The gilded palace was gilded â but not just in gold.Â
y/n
You were very confused.Â
And confusion never was something any noble wanted during a ball, nevermind the Kingâs re-entry ball, no matter how close your familyâs ties ran.Â
Of course, you were not confused about who it was for. It was obvious. The Capitolâs newspapers (and most likely every other newspaper business in the nation), had spent the entire past week dedicating their front covers to the headlines that included, but were not limited to, one of the five following words: Archduke, Jeon, Return, Battle, Ball.Â
It was as if the entirety of noble society had decided to come together for this one re-entry event, which apparently had people jittery at the edges of their seats because the most eligible bachelor of any season, really, was back on the market. The one high noble who could pay off even the most expensive dowries, who could save a breaking family from complete, utter, desolate ruin, whose dark hooded eyes had enticed so many of the daughters from the highest noble classes, was back. He, on orders and grounds unknown, was returning from his three-year-long disappearance from Society and out into the vicious battlefields of the north.Â
And you were absolutely, jaw-droppingly so confused as to why both King Seungcheol and Prince Mingyu (mostly Seungcheol, though Mingyu posed no help), held you (almost) hostage at their sides, rambling and fluttering on about how you should stay with them until the entrance of the âmain character.âÂ
âYour highness, may I ask why?â you ask. Behind your proprietary fan covering the bottom half of your face, your lips curl in distaste. If it was wholly up to you, you would have been in a silken nightgown, getting ready for bed.Â
âIs brother still holding you here against your will?â Prince Mingyuâs laughing voice reaches your ears. You turn, meeting his broad frame. His one-shoulder cape glints at the top with a pure-gold cap, in dazzling contrast with his cream-white suit. In his hands are two flutes of bubbling champagne. He outstretches his arm, tipping one flute towards you with a grin, canines pushing down against his bottom lip. âFor you, my lady,â he teases, slipping the flute into your gloved fingers. He gives you a cheesy wink, before breaking into a dimpled smile.Â
You roll your eyes, habituated with the princeâs oftentimes off-handed flirty remarks. âYou ask that as if you have not been doing the exact same thing, your highness,â you huff, but you donât reject the champagne flute, taking a sip of the bubbling liquid with a satisfied sigh. You clear your throat before turning to both Mingyu and Seungcheol, who is surveying the crowd. âNow I ask the both of you the same question.âÂ
Mingyu throws an arm around Seungcheol, who stands still, staring at the entrance door to the ballroom with an impatient-tapping foot. âYou know why.â He leans his head against Seungcheol, lightly stepping on his older brotherâs furious foot with a mutter of maintaining a mask of patience. Seungcheol responds with a simple furrow of his thick eyebrows.
You tilt your head. Mingyuâs lack-luster responses and Seungcheolâs decision to blatantly ignore your words are doing absolutely nothing to quell your curiosity, let alone your confusion.Â
Usually, if this was like any other royal-hosted ball, Seungcheol would only keep you for a brief moment. That would frequently consist of introductions to any new or unfamiliar royal cabinet members. And then, he would let you go, which usually meant, for you, going to the closest empty table with a chair and sitting down for the rest of the night. At least until you deemed you had spent enough time brooding in peace in your despairing corner, that it was respectable enough towards both you and the royal family, to leave the ball and return to your estate.Â
Of course, you were not unapproachable. You were born and raised in Society. One of the first classes you remember taking with your grandmother was ballroom dance. Before (or many times during) your brooding solitary peace, either Mingyu, Seungcheol, or Duke Hong would leisurely make their way towards you and offer you your dance of the night.Â
Those times, when the familiar strings of the orchestra and the notes of the hired singer flowed through the crowded ballroom, you let yourself be guided. After all, it was your job.Â
âThe lady is always supposed to be guided,â your grandmother used to say, âIf a man, especially of high standing, does not guide a lady through a simple waltz, he is not a man. He is a coward not ready to face even the simplest of pleasures.âÂ
âSave your first dance, y/n,â Seungcheol suddenly says, turning to her. His words seem oddly like an order, and you would not put it below him for it to actually be an order. His grin matches his younger brotherâs. The furs of his dress stick out against his dark hair. And his entire being seems that much more irking in your eyes.Â
If he has another fucking suitor lined up already, Iâll kill him. To hell with the monarchy.
From next to him, Mingyu chuckles, as if he (they) knew something you did not. Which is usually the case, actually. You need to stop being so surprised.Â
âWhy?â Your nose scrunches. Your fan is forgotten at your sides. Â
Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head slowly like youâre some under-developed child who could not get the full picture. âYouâll see.âÂ
You snap your fan shut, crossing your arms. âSometime soon, I hope?â A jolt of pain waves over your ankle, a testament to how long youâve been standing in one place. You force down your wince.
Mingyu pokes your puffed cheeks with his white-gloved hand and a laugh. âImpatient much, duchess?âÂ
You swat away his hand with a glance. Your head swivels as you say, âI have been waiting with much patience, thank you very much.â A lick of annoyance flickers in you when you catch at least seven pairs of eyes and gossiping mouths staring at you and the royal brothers. âIt seems as though the Archduke is late,â you add, glancing at the giant clock on top of the entrance doorway.Â
Mingyu, now arm over your shoulder, tugs at your dress sleeves. âAwfully interested, arenât you?â he grinned, a small bout of laughter ensuing at your barely concealed tick of anger. Not only at his words but also at his careless touches. He should be glad all of high society knew of your close family relations, or else his actions would have had dire consequences.
You push him away lightly, flicking your fan open again as you gently fan yourself, covering your mouth. âAwfully not, your highness,â you snap. Mingyu knew not to talk about that. You try to ignore the fact that the wound you had once thought was fully stitched up and closed, still hurts when poked. âIf I can-â
BANG
âANNOUNCING ARCHDUKE JEON AND THE COMMANDER OF THE ROYAL KNIGHTS, SIR KWON!â The heraldâs voice echoed through the ballroom.Â
It was as if the entire ballroom was on a brief pause â the gossiping groups of ladies, the loud laughter of the business men, the rolling children, and even the orchestra. The violinists, cellists, and singer all paused, craning their heads to see through the throng of people who awaited the arrival of the main character â the battle-won most eligible bachelor of all the seasons: Archduke Jeon Wonwoo.Â
And all you wanted to do was to never see his face again.Â
And of course you prepared yourself. You prepared yourself the moment you had received Seungcheolâs and Mingyuâs separate request letters of your presence at tonightâs ball as part of the royal cabinet. You prepared yourself throughout the time Nai, your maid, rubbed oils into your skin, braided and twisted your silken hair, and pulled your corset tight against your straining ribs. Yet nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the real thing. The thing that was not born out of your imagination that had severely overworked itself over three years.Â
Because not only does Wonwoo look the part of the most eligible bachelor, he looks the part of a successful military commander, with his dark military uniform, draping cape, and glinting golden medals. It feels as if the entire ballroom moves towards him, like he has his own gravitational force, as if everyone is attracted to something in the man. You can already see the cliques of the younger ladies fan themselves lightly as their eyes glaze over his wide shoulders and chiseled face. The military uniform does nothing to hide his physique.Â
Your fan slowly rises to your face.Â
Your corset feels especially restricting when you see Wonwooâs sharp eyes scan the ballroom. If this were any other situation, you would find the way Wonwoo leans down briefly to Soonyoung to whisper something with a confused furrow and Soonyoung breaking out into a shit-eating grin and tossing a wink towards the general crowd, exponentially more amusing. That had more fans fanning quickly towards the ladiesâ face.Â
The entire scene reminded you briefly of when you were seventeen, when you had first been introduced to Society, standing almost in the same position as you were currently â next to the two princes who flanked you protectively with crossed arms â and Soongyoung, who was fresh into the Corps of Royal Knights then, and Wonwoo, who had just graduated from the National Academy, striding into your debutante ball late. The small waves and winks Soonyoung sends now towards the various gaggle of young, single ladies of Society reminds you, rather nostalgically, of when you, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Mingyu had all spread out in Mingyuâs foyer on a wintry December day, and all you had talked about were the numerous engagement offers Soonyoung was getting from noble families.Â
âWhat is this? Your thirteenth?â Seungcheol huffed, looking up briefly from Mingyuâs wide oak desk. He dropped his quill in the golden holder. âYouâre gonna take away all the ladies from us at this rate, friend,â he laughed.Â
You missed, in a small part of your heart, the times when Seungcheol had not been pressed to marry, find his match, continue the legacy. Now, his smile never crinkled his eyes when breeching on the topic of marriage and engagements.Â
Soonyoung shrugged, legs dangling off of the couchâs arm rest as he flipped through a newspaper from last week. âDonât know. You can have all of them, if you want, Coups,â he says, looking up from the tiny print. He gives a sideways look towards Mingyu. âAnd you too. Donât want any of them. Not right now, anyways.âÂ
Seungcheol and Mingyu both grumble about the unfairness of knightly and royal duties as Soonyoung goes off on a separate tangent about the recent addition of a tiger to the park zoo.Â
From the corner of your eyes, you see Wonwoo and Mingyu exchange an exasperated look. To be honest, you think itâs kind of cute â Soonyoungâs obsession with tigers, that is. It gives the man something childish in him. God knows heâll need it in the battlefields one day.Â
Suddenly, from the open window, the winter wind blasts through Mingyuâs parlor, wiping papers off of the low tables and out of your hands.Â
You shiver, arms crossing around your torso. You rub against your thinly-clothed arms.Â
âSorry,â Mingyu apologizes sheepishly, quickly glancing over at you. âShouldâve closed that thing.âÂ
You wave him off, about to say something, when suddenly, a thick fabric is draped over your bare shoulders. You flinch at the sudden contact on your skin. From in front of you, Soonyoungâs eyes are wide, which looks rather comical when you see it in his entire position â upside down, legs spread around the backrest, black hair flapping.Â
âI told you to close it.â Wonwooâs tone is almost chastising as he moves from behind you to back to his original spot next to you. He gives Mingyu an almost-glare that has the prince sheepishly standing. Wonwoo picks up his book again, shaking his head ever so slightly.Â
Mingyu gives Seungcheol a passive look before he sits down as well, eyeing the coat around your shoulders.Â
One quick glance down at the lapel, and you find what you were looking for. The Jeon Duchyâs coat of arms glints up at you, the house crest shining proudly under the chandelier lights. Your cheeks heat when you recognize the expensive cologne that fills your nose. When you turn towards Wonwoo, heâs back in his book, absorbed, apparently, in the tiny printed words on the page. Your previously scattered papers are neat on the table in front of you.Â
Wonwoo suddenly looks up from his book, catching your zoned-out stare.Â
Your eyes widen.Â
Wonwoo just gives you a small smile, before leaning forward and grabbing your papers. He lays his book face-down on his lap. âDo you need a quill?â he asks, handing you your papers.Â
He catches you so off guard (as if you were only staring at his face, not listening to what he was saying), that you almost stumble over your own tongue trying to respond casually.Â
âEr- Um- I mean, no. No, no, thatâs fine,â you mumble, snatching the papers from his hand and scooting towards the other side of the long couch. âThank you, though.âÂ
It feels like Wonwooâs smile grows at your words. If you looked a little bit closer, you would have seen the tips of his ears turn a blush red when you glance down, fiddling with the academic medals on his lapel.Â
âAnything for you,â he breathes, like it's a secret shared between you two.Â
Mingyu and Soonyoung stare at the whole interaction with a mixture of forced disgust, confusion, and awkwardness, and you donât miss how Soonyoung pretends to gag, Mingyu following suit, before the two of them go back to their lengthy tangents.
From next to you, you miss Mingyuâs quick glance down at your movements and the knowing glance he and Seungcheol share.Â
Whispers break out as the two men â vastly different in the charismas they exude â stride towards the two royal family members.Â
And you realize they are heading towards you before you remember you are standing with the royal brothers. And everything suddenly clicks into place. Why the two, more Seungcheol than Mingyu, wanted you to stay for so long â until the âmain character arrives.â There is a bubbling pot of the sudden innate need to whack the king over the head with your fan. But of course. That would be terribly unladylike. Nothing a woman in your station should be doing, let alone thinking about doing.Â
And it seems as if Wonwoo is as surprised at your presence on the royal platform because his dark eyes widen behind his glasses as he and Soonyoung stop in front of the raised platform you, Mingyu, and Seungcheol were standing on.Â
You feel horribly awkward. And Soonyoungâs gaze flitting between you and Wonwoo before bowing his head, trying to conceal his laughter, is doing nothing to make the situation better.Â
Seungcheol throws his arms out at the same time Wonwoo drops into a one-knee bow, Soonyoung in tow moments later behind him. At his sudden show of veneration, the crowd gasps softly and you shuffle backwards, only to hit Mingyuâs broad chest that blocks you from leaving the platform. You swallow.Â
You need to get off this stupid fucking platform.Â
But when you open and shut your fan, looking back at Mingyu, he seems awfully interested in exchanging eye contact with the ballroomâs chandelier. You know he heard your fan shut. The same, familiar spike of rage bubbles in your chest.Â
These fucking brothers.Â
âSuccess to your highness and peace to the nation.â Wonwooâs deep voice, the one you had tried so desperately to forget, to lose in your discarded memories, to rip apart to shreds and feed to the dogs, echoes out against the quiet ballroom. If you strain your ears, you can hear, though, the stuttered gasps of the younger ladies and chaperones, on the verge of swooning at his first nine words. Resentfully, your brain conjures itself to the years when you were the same â fanning yourself to catch a handsome manâs attention. Â
You wish you had the courage to laugh. To elegantly step off this damning platform. To get away (run away) from the man in front of the king.
You feel Mingyu moving ever so slightly behind you until you stand perfectly in between him and Seungcheol. Then, in the softest hiss of a whisper he is capable of, he mumbles, âStay still. Youâre sitting with us now.âÂ
You scoff quietly, raising your fan to your left cheek. The tips of the wooden stilts tickle your painted cheek.
From the corners of your eyes, you can see Mingyu pout. âOh come on, duchess,â he whines. âIâm degraded down to fan talk?â His fingers wrap around your fan, pulling it down.
Youâre glad you and Mingyu stand slightly off to the side because you donât think you would be able to handle any more whisperings of your relationship with the men in your life Society has to cruelly offer.Â
âYou read right? The Archduchies are part of the direct royal council, now.âÂ
That makes you whip your head towards Mingyuâs. He is still facing forward with a practiced smile on his lips and hands in his pockets like this moment was the most relaxing all night.Â
You, however, probably look slightly insane. Any fan etiquette goes flying out of the ballroom door at Mingyuâs words. You? On the royal council? Of course, on the surface, it is a great honor. You would be the first non-married matriarch to hold some semblance of power in the royal courts. But you could stitch together the gist of how Society would react to this. And based on Mingyuâs decision to tell you this late into Societyâs winter season, you could land a (very accurate) educated guess that Seungcheol was going to announce in the next twenty minutes.Â
âAre you crazy?â You whisper furiously, turning back to face the crowd. You can already see eyes slowly turn to the two of you, noticing your, now, not-so-subtle interaction.Â
Mingyu just grins, bumping his shoulder with yours. And you donât even get a chance to hear what he says because Seungcheol suddenly says, âOf course! Of course!â with the most excited tone of voice you had ever heard him use. Apparently Mingyu thinks the same because his head follows yours in staring at Seungcheol. Both of you, but mostly you because Mingyu is still surveying the crowd with a bright, confident, blazing smile that has the ladies of the court drowning in his eyes, are too embarrassed to look confused at what his words mean because you had zoned out of his rather one-sided conversation with Soonyoung and Wonwoo a long time ago.Â
You can only stand stiffly in your place sandwiched between Seungcheol and Mingyu as both Soonyoung and Wonwoo rise slowly, giving Seungcheol a curt bow before turning to you and Mingyu. Your fan trembles with your hand as Wonwoo steps closer.Â
You had forgotten how it feels to know nothing of what was to come. Especially when it pertained to him.
Your heart stills momentarily when his eyes land on you, moving up to your face and holding you in your place for a split second. You canât even describe it. The feeling of seeing him so up close after all these years. After you had promised yourself to forget him. After you had spent hours crying in your bathtub, Nia rubbing your back soothingly. After you had fallen asleep, at least in the first weeks, on top of your duvet, letters he had once sent you crowding half of your bed, fresh tear stains ruining the expensive ink and paper.Â
He looks so familiar it pulls at some part in your heart that you had thought was buried three years ago at a sparring ground. You observe him as he and Soonyoung pay their respects to Mingyu, who looks a pinch uncomfortable when his friends kneel in front of him.Â
Black strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes and crowd his forehead. His military cape pulls your attention to his shoulders, which look broader than you remember them to be. And you canât help but admit that his tight military top does nothing to hide his worked physique. His family crests glints at the connecting junction of his cape and his uniform, and his sheath, hand-crafted as a gift for his seventeenth birthday, holding his sword, rests against his hips. He looks regal, noble, eligible â so much so that it almost shakes the foundations of the walls you had built.Â
Then he turns to you, those piercing eyes refocusing onto yours that donât know where to land. His eyes? His lips? His chest? His shoulders? The crowd? A shadow of a smile paints itself onto his lips and you swallow.Â
Your mouth feels dry.Â
This canât be real.Â
When you had imagined the re-entry ball, meeting Wonwoo, nevermind seeing him so personally, had never once crossed your mind.Â
Your fan slowly traced its path up to your right ear.Â
From behind Wonwoo, Soonyoung grins, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling at your fan movement. Your own lips curl up in your practiced way.Â
For the crowd, you tell yourself.Â
The entire ballroom seems to watch the two of you in your silence, which was turning more awkward by the second. Wonwooâs eyes carve a road up and down your figure. It makes your hands clench your fan tightly.Â
You glance at Seungcheol, who nods, urging you to speak. You let out a small cough, averting your eyes briefly before your smile paints itself onto your lips again. Your fan falls.Â
âIt seems the battlefield has treated you well, Archduke Jeon,â you smiled, opening your arm briefly in a practiced welcome.Â
It seems as if Wonwoo had not expected you to speak first, and for a second, he stands frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and hands still next to his body. At Soonyoungâs small embarrassed cough, he blinks rapidly, following your smile in suit. Except his looks too genuine, it tugs at your heart strings. And you berate your traitorous heart in wanting to pull him into a warm embrace.Â
Remember how he left you. He doesnât want you.Â
The corners of your lips tremble.Â
Instead, you feign indifference, lifting your chin.Â
Wonwoo bows deeply first, followed by Soonyoung. He rises.Â
âI see Society has welcomed you back with open arms,â he replies, his voice a pinch above a whisper. His small smile offers it as a jest but his words stab a knife into your gut. He has absolutely no right in jesting about your failed engagements. Not after everything.Â
From behind him, you can see Soonyoung pinch his nose bridge, shaking his head ever so slightly, mouthing an apology to you.Â
Wonwooâs eyes linger a moment too long on you, before reaching for your hand. Out of pure etiquette that has burned itself into your entire being, you offer him your hand, and his head is bowed, lips hovering mere centimeters over your lacy knuckles before you realize what you are doing. And by then, itâs too late to retract your offered hand.Â
Wonwooâs lips meet the back of your hand.Â
His own gloved fingers hold your hand like you are made out of the most delicate of china, his touch barely-there.Â
And just as quick his lips are on your hand, it disappears from your skin.Â
âMay tonight bring you as much warmth as your presence brings to it,â he murmurs, so softly that you have to strain your ears to hear it. But itâs there.
Wonwoo rises before you have a chance to process his greeting words that were murmured into your hand. You almost miss the way the tips of his ears are blush-red between strands of his hair.Â
Before you can say something else, Soonyoung is in front of you, bowing over your outstretched hand, pressing a light, airy kiss. You can feel him grin against your skin.Â
When he looks up, he has a teasing grin painted on his face, and you have to force yourself to not roll your eyes at how he wiggles his eyebrows up and down.Â
âSuccess and love for the Archduchess.â Soonyoungâs words echo across the ballroom, unlike Wonwooâs.Â
Too busy retracting your hand from Soonyoungâs grip, you miss the way Wonwooâs jaw clenches, face hardening at Soonyoungâs words.Â
: ĚĚâ ÉŞÉ´á´á´Ęá´á´ĄÉŞÉ´á´á´
-- á´á´ á´ĘĘá´Ęɪɴɢ ÉŞÉ´ Ęá´á´á´Ąá´á´É´ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx @mj-szaa @lilylikesthat @ppaia @ameliamirabela @tearsdntfall617
#seventeen#seventeen smut#seungcheol#joshua#scoups#wonwoo#mingyu#regency au#royalty au#royalty!seventeen#seventeen royalty#jeon wonwoo#wonwoo smut#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo angst#gia's winter special#intertwined!!#hoshi#soonyoung#wonwoo fic#wonwoo x reader
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One last call.
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x KĂśnig x Reader.
TW. Talks of death, rivalry, filthy language, angst, betrayal, an established relationship, NOT a HOA! kissing, mild inappropriate boundary crossing. MDNI! (Also, I couldn't find the credits to this image, if someone does, lemme know!)
You were bleeding out.
A mission gone wrong.
Bad Intel means you were the only one left alive.
Hiding behind a crate, you manage to drag your body out of the snow, using the wood as a shield from the elements. Teeth chattering, you call Simon, your ex fiance.
"Ghost." He answers.
The breath gets punched out of you by the cold, so you take a minute to gather your breath, and your thoughts.
"Si." You murmur, just loud enough he can hear you.
"Why are you calling me?" He answers bluntly. Your relationship has been rocky for months, missed dinners, birthdays, missed milestones, the anger issues after a tough deployment... You had regretfully called things off before this deployment.
"I.. I got hit, Si. Dodgy Intel." You explain, pain low in your body.
You hear him grip the phone in his hand, his voice gruff.
"Fuck! I can get Price to get Nikolai-"
You interrupt him, wincing as you shake your head.
"No, It'll be too late, Si. I just wanted to hear your voice."
"I'm on my way." Came the clipped reply.
You let out a dry chuckle.
"Always so bossy."
You pause, your breathing shallow.
You manage to roll onto your back, your eyes glossy with tears.
"Sorry, we never got to fix this." You say softly.
A gunshot rings out in the silence, before heavy footsteps crunch in the snow.
"I'm not alone." You whisper.
"Stay on the line, love. Don't leave me." Simon replies.
Over the next few minutes, the sound of singular gunshots ring through the snowy compound. A single pair of boots crunch through the deep snow that's piling up on the ground.
"Whoever it is, they are making sure people are dead." You whisper, fear taking over you as you realise you can't move, your injuries won't allow you to escape quickly.
Simons heart sinks.
"Play dead, hide in the snow, stay alive till I come for you, I'm getting in the chopper now.. please love. I'm coming."
All you can do is lie there, tears frosting down your cheeks as you realise you are next. The door to the storage room you are next to is kicked open, but you are silent.
Large footsteps sealed your fate as the imposing figure spots your boots.
"Oh, I forgot one." Came a thick accent, causing you to freeze.
"Ah, a little maus... far away from home."
He kicks your boot, pain throbbing through your body as you swallow a scream.
"Such a pretty one, too.." in your eyeline, you see a behemoth of a man, a hood covering his face, blood staining his entire front. He pauses when he sees your face.
"Ah, I've been looking for you."
Fear grips you, but you dare not move.
Your phone falls from your hand as he stands on your wrist, and your eyes finally meet his. Deeply dark, crazed and focused on you.
"Who's there with you, love?" You hear Simon say over the phone.
"Ah, Geist..." the masked man calls out.
"KĂśnig?" Splutters the reply.
"In the flesh."
"Leave her out of this!" Simon yells, his voice loud through the call.
KĂśnig laughs, squatting over you, pulling you by your tactical vest to pull you flush against him, his eyes roaming your body.
"She's a pretty one, would make such a lovely trophy." He calls out, antagonising Simon more.
He traces a gloved hand down your cheek, and you can't look away from him. His body is pressed tight against yours, and you can feel every inch of him.
"She's pretty broken, too. It looks like my men did their job in getting her to me."
Your eyes widen, he was behind this?
"Why?" You whisper out, cursing your shaky voice.
"Why? He took everything from me, my wife, my future... so I'm here to repay the favour. An eye for an eye, you call it?"
He removes his helmet, uncovering his face, scarred and war torn, pale and seething.
"Beg for your life, I want him to suffer like i did."
You shake your head, refusing to play his game.
"Don't touch her!" Simon roars down the phone.
"I'm on my way to you, and I'll finish what I started." He continues.
KĂśnig laughs dryly.
You try and pull away, pulling his fingers off your vest. He grips harder, forcing you closer, his breath warming your cheek.
"I like a struggle, little lamb." He warns, his eyes deadly cold. You pause, your body limp.
"Ah, there's still some fire in you. I see why he likes you." He pulls out his pistol, the metal shining in the low light.
"I won't tell you again. Beg."
You spit at him, his cheek coated in your fluids. Scoffing, he swipes it from his cheek and brings it to his lips.
"So. Fucking. Defiant."
His gloved hand slaps your cheek hard before pressing his fingers into them, tilting your chin up, demanding him to look at you. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, surprisingly soft. Marking his territory, claiming a victory.
"I didn't want to do this, but he left me no choice. I wanted you for myself. I even tried recruiting you to my team a few times, but you were his.." he spits.
"Now, I want to give you the opportunity yourself. Come with me. I'll get you medical treatment. I'll give you a good life. Or you can die in the snow, I'll make it quick."
You hesitate. You weren't ready to die. You had unfinished business with Simon. But you were tired of being second to everything, tired of making excuses for him, tired of being let down. Your vision was starting to get spotty, and you knew this was the biggest choice of your life.
You look at KĂśnig, and realise you two were the same. Your lives had been taken apart by a common denominator.
His eyes soften. He nods, understanding your unspoken answer. He picks up the phone, addressing his rival for the last time.
"I won." He says simply, while shooting into the wooden crate behind you, the loud gunshot echoing the painful cry from the phone.
Hanging up, he looks down at you, your shocked gaze never leaving his.
He gathers you in his arms, striding back to his vehicle.
"Time for a new life, little lamb."
Your eyes flutter as your body relaxes for the first time in what feels like forever. Almost missing the way he snaps a picture of you, sending it to Simon via your phone.
"An eye for an eye. She's mine now."
...........................
A/N I wasn't sure about this one. I'm not good at angst, but I hope I did the idea justice! Back to matchmaker later! Xxxx
@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations
@evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-love-letter
#call of duty#call of duty mw2#fanfiction#simon ghost riley#fanfic#call of duty modern warfare 2#simon riley#ghost#ghost simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#konig#konig headcanons#konig x you#konig x reader#konig x y/n
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Also i love how the writers took a complete u-turn from the whole discourse about them cheaply deploying cancer as a plot point for shock value - like, yo, she got sick, but she was diagnosed in time, got treated and got better!
But then what really pushed her off the cliff into a rock bottom?
Workplace harrassment, and depression. And her fiance resenting her for being depressed.
Just wow. I am so down for this. Like now i cannot even hate the ex because he really was there for her throughout her treatment. But not everyone is cutout to be partners to depressed folk and im saying that AS a chronically depressed person. He's hovering around her clearly as a way to soothe his guilt - coz he's not really a bad person - he's just lost seokryu's trust. And this kind of trust, doesn't often come back, once broken. I think he will get that soon and leave.
This is the kind of nuanced writing i expect from my writers. So glad i trusted my gut and stuck around (i mean let's be honest i wouldn't have dropped it anyway - even if it meant i had to tolerate bad writing to only get to look at haein *cough* SNOWDROP *cough*)
But anyway, I'm veryyyyy interested how they resolve all the layers opening in this week and get seokryu to let seung hyo in. Because that's the endgame â¤ď¸đ¤đź our chef x architect power couple đŻââď¸
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without you + three
authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.
do not read this story if you havenât read âwith meâ. it wonât work as a standalone.
warnings: none
song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige
one + two
words: 4k
âIâve been thinking.â
âThatâs never a good thing.â Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this.Â
Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joeâs shoulder.. âIâm serious.â
His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, âtell me.â
Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page youâre on and lay it against the side of you. âI think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.â
Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. âI thought we were just going to do something here?â
âI know, and I think we still can, but I donât want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.â Itâs something youâve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. Itâs so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, itâs only preschool, but itâs still a big deal for her.
You want her to be able to celebrate with her âclassmates.â
And you express as such.
âShe should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, sheâs still excited about them, but I donât know, something tells me sheâs going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.â
Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. âBut, thatâs not entirely abnormal, right?â
âNo, doesnât mean itâll be any easier to deal with though.â Frowning, itâs only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, youâve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child.Â
Now, itâs about to be four.
âHey.â Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. âWeâll handle it together, alright?â
His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. âYouâre right.â His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. âItâs probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.â
His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. âSheâs not spoiled.â
âJoe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.â
âWhat?â
Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. âThat little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.â
âShe doesnât ask for much.â
âNot you being in straight up denial.â Heâs so down bad for Callie Bear. Itâs not even funny. âNeed I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.â
Joe shoves you gently. âShut up.â
Laughing, you continue, âjust admit it, she has you wrapped around her lilâ finger, and she knows it. Thatâs why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.â
Joeâs frown doesnât make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. âI donât like being mean to her.â
âItâs not being mean, baby. Itâs being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like youâre one of her little friends, youâre not. Youâre her dad. She needs to respect you as such.â
âShe does,â he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you wonât win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something youâve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.
âIâm gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that Iâm the reason you werenât there the first few years of her life.â
Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. âY/Nââ
You lift your hand to silence him. âNo, sheâs going to eventually ask, and Iâm not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and Iâll handle it.âÂ
Youâve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didnât. Thereâs undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.
Youâll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific youâll get will depend on her age, but youâre not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.
You know firsthand how thinking your dad didnât want to be around can fuck with someoneâs mental.
You wonât let that be the case with Callie.
Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesnât want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. âYou donât have to do that.â
âOh, but I do and will, baby.â You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. âBecause thatâs one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callieâs life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.â
The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joeâs handsome face. Itâs a bit of a distraction technique youâre grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. âI donât know what the fuck you saw in him.â
Small smile on your face, you shrug, âheâs not ugly, and his dick was decent.â And before he can say anything smug and smart, âyours is better, duh. Why you think Iâm giving you all these kids, huh?â He smiles and shakes his head. âYou gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much Iâll come for you in child support.â
He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, âyou know Iâm not going anywhere and neither are you.â
âOf course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?â The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. âNow, we really need to start deciding on names. Iâm almost five months.â Pretty soon youâll be finding out the sexes of the babies. Itâs crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel.Â
Time flies when life is good.Â
âDid you get Callieâs list?âÂ
He curses. âShit, I forgot.â
You wave him off. âNo worries.â Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, âCallie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!âÂ
She doesnât say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesnât hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, âhere you go, mommy!â
You accept her notebook thatâs already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. âThank you, baby.â Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. âLetâs see.â
A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at.Â
âMoana.â Predictable. So predictable. âMaui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.â Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. âBabyâŚ.are these all names from Moana?â
Callie nods happily. âAnd Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,â she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. âThe babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.â
âYouâre so right.â To be fair, you really shouldnât have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. âWell, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.â
âDaddy, did you make a list?â She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her dollâs head.
âNot yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.âÂ
âI like baby Moana.âÂ
He chuckles. âBut youâre our little Moana.â
She pouts and corrects, âno, Iâm Callie.â Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasnât entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. âI want a baby sister named Moana.â
âWhat if theyâre all boys?â
You and Callie have similar reactions. Itâs just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.
âNoooo, I want a little sister.âÂ
Adding onto Callieâs vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. âAnd I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your godââ
âWhat do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?â Youâre partially thankful for the save but also irritated heâs asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.
âA puppy!â
See.
You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. âBaby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until youâre at least ten.â
âBut, Iâll be old!â
âExactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.â One look at Joe, and you can see heâs about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to âagreeâ with or at least defend Callieâs request. âAbsolutely not. No dog until sheâs older, and thatâs final.â
Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and itâs evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. âNot fair.â
âLife ainât fair, buttercup.â You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. âSpeaking of, itâs almost time for your wash dayâŚ.â
The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, âI donât want to.â
The feeling is mutual. âNeither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.â Looking over at Joe, you inform him, âand you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.â
He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. âBaby, I donât know how to do hair.â
Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, âyou do your own!â
âI barely do anything with my hair. You know this.âÂ
Damn. Heâs right. Lucky ass. âRegardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someoneâs gonna have to do it.â
Of course, Joeâs smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, âIâll take her to your mom.â
Callieâs eyes light up a bit. âGrandma!â
âJoe.â Lord, this man got too much money or something. âYou seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?â
He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with whatâs being proposed. âYeah.â
Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. âYou are tooââ However, youâre cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joeâs attention.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Heâs sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern thatâs growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.
âMommy?â Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joeâs hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. âWhatââ
This time, sheâs the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callieâs face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement.Â
âWhat is that, mommy?â Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. Youâre not typically a super emotional person, but thereâs something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve.Â
âThatâs the babies. Theyâre kicking.â You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.
âWhy are they hurting you?â
âTheyâre not, sweetie. Thatâs what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.â Adding some playfulness into your voice, thereâs a level of relief to see she appears less concerned.Â
Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment.Â
âI love you,â he murmurs against your temple. Itâs such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach.Â
âDonât kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?â The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. âSheâs the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart andââ
ââand still not getting you a puppy.â While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids youâve ever come across, sheâs also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where sheâs headed with this.Â
And, youâre proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a âhmmphâ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.
You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. âDaddy?â
Joe doesnât hesitate to answer right away. âYes, baby?â One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. Itâs not even funny.Â
âHallie wants a friendâŚ..â Joeâs eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you.Â
Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, âthatâs what she named the doll.âÂ
He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. âShe does?â
Callie nods, that excitement building back up. âTwo friends!â
Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.
âWell, then we need to get her two friends.â
âYay!â Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. âCan I make her friends too?âÂ
And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. âOf course, Callie Bear.â
âYay!â She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. Itâs not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. âThank you, daddy.â She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, âIâm gonna make them now!â
With her tablet, clearly. The tablet youâd bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on.Â
Lord, youâre about to have five damn children to take care of at this point.Â
Itâs only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm.Â
âWhat?â Itâs him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room.Â
âWhat do you mean what?â Angling your body more toward him, you explain, âJoe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.â He rolls his eyes but doesnât deny it, because he canât. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldnât come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. âShe doesnât need them dolls, babe.â
âYou gonâ let her get a puppy now?â
An easy ass answer. âHell no.â
He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, âthen sheâs getting the dolls.â
Rubbing your temples, you realize this isnât a âfightâ youâre not going to win. âYou know what, whatever. You do what you want, but Iâm telling you right now, theseââ You bring his hand back to your belly. ââbabies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.â
He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. âCallie is grateful.â
âFor now.â Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. âNot this again.â
The shift in your voice catches Joeâs attention. âWhat?â
Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on âmelanin maternal mental healthâ.Â
Talk about fucking alliteration.Â
âI donât know whatâs been up with her lately, but sheâs been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.â You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isnât necessarily valid or needed..
This is the happiest youâve been in some time. A long time. If ever.
Nothing is going to change that.
Especially being a mother to three more children.Â
Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals heâs debating something. âWhat?â
He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. âBeen thinking about that movie thingâŚ..â
The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. âWhat did you decide?â
â------
Megan is having a wonderful day.
One of the best sheâs had in a while.
Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.
And thereâs few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.
A smirk falls on her face as she hums âHere Comes the Brideâ while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, itâs when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.
Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.
âJoeâŚ.â Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes sheâs going to be a couple minutes late for work.
So worth it though.Â
Because Megan hasnât come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.
The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face.Â
âI canât wait until we can be together, my loveâŚâ A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine.Â
It takes her about the usual time.
And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. Thereâs no time for unnecessary caloric intake.
She has to start preparing for the wedding.Â
Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.
To play along.Â
And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to âfind outâ why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.
Lukeâs quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. Heâs never quiet. Sheâs not complaining though. Not at all.
As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. âI know some of you have heard, but for those who havenât, IâuhâI got some bad news.â He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. âThereâs uhâno way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.â
As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.
Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, âthey say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.â
Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. âOh my god, how heartbreaking.â She even manages to crank out some tears that donât shed but get the job done. âI canât believe sheâs goneâŚ.â
âMegan.â She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. âI know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan goneâŚ.â
Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. âItâs okay. IâllâŚ.Iâll do it. Iâll take Reigns as my client.â
And my husband.
Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.
It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud.Â
She lived long enough.Â
He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.
Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. Itâs irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, itâs time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter âJâ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.
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