#and stories of seeing him and meeting him and what his music has meant to them and all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randomdragonfires · 3 months ago

Text

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part One

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of substances and alcohol.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 10k

A/N | This is a repurposed version of an old story of mine. I sort of lost all the connection I felt to the plot somewhere along the way but now I've written some 32k words. Point is, I will complete it this time. Please be kind, this is NOT beta read and I haven't posted a fic in a long time - I'm a little rusty. Thank you!

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!

She’s swaying, with no sense of what’s happening around her.

One too many drinks. She’s never been much fun at parties, preferring to stay away from the heart of it all and slinking to the sides, sticking her back to the wall. But tonight, she drinks and she dances and she moves like she’s made of air, like it’s something she’s done for years. When she stops, her head spins for a moment before she gathers herself. As her vision clears, her eyes settle on a pair of mismatched eyes that see her.

He doesn’t look. He sees.

The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

She’s not quite sure when the feelings started. She supposes that whenever she’s with him, the air is charged with something electric, better, ready to bubble up to the surface and spill over. It’s always been there. He’s always been there. It makes sense.

She’s not quite sure when she fell in love with him. But if anyone asks, then she’d say the story goes something like this.

She and Daeron have been joined at the hip ever since she moved to the private media-haven city of King’s Landing, where the who’s who of Westeros came to live quiet, uninterrupted lives. The Targaryens were gracious enough to reward her father’s loyalty with a seat on the board of Targaryen Consolidated, and Jasper Wylde made the move to be closer to the headquarters with great haste. Viserys Targaryen appreciated his promptness and made sure to have his wife help the Wyldes feel at home. Next thing she knows, she’s seamlessly made herself at home with the Targaryen-Hightower kids.

Around the same time, their youngest son with a boyish charm steals her heart - even before she was old enough to understand what it meant to fall in love.

They’re kids when Aegon lets her stand on his toes as he guides her to take his lead. They dance clumsily, in that wholesome way that older brothers do with their sisters - he is the closest thing she has to a brother, she supposes. There is no shortage of Wylde siblings, oh no. Just that they’re all old enough to have fled the nest, while she, at the tender age of six, still stays with her father - close enough to Maegor’s Holdfast, where her friend and his family live.

Helaena sips on her juice with one hand as she watches the centipede move slowly on the back of her left hand. It is clear to anyone who sees that neither Aemond nor Daeron - sitting on either side of her - share her interest. The latter is comparatively more horrid at hiding his discomfort than the former, who even at that age, would bite his own tongue before he made Helaena feel bad.

She laughs as Aegon jokes before spinning her around, much like the princesses in her stories. He’s always been this way, jokes and all light-hearted happiness. She feels like she’s light and airy and flying as he moves her, and soon enough, despite a lack of breath, she wants Daeron to dance with her.

He’d be the prince in her stories, always. Whenever she reads those head-spinning tales of love, it is always Daeron’s face that she sees. Nobody is more bashful or shy than a little girl who gets to dance with the boy she likes.

Daeron seems unaware of the red blooming on her cheeks, laughing as both pudgy little children made their way through the hall as they danced. The sunlight falls through the windows in thin streaks and Daeron’s hair catches the light, making his hair look like it was made of molten silver. His eyes brighten up and she cannot help but smile.

They keep going round and round until she tires herself out and lands on her bum, laughing without a care in the world as Daeron plops himself next to her.

Neither of them notice Aemond watching them from afar.

They're eight years old when Lucerys Velaryon harshly tugs at her pigtails as she sits under the old oak tree on the school grounds, engrossed in her book. The playful mischief on his face isn't new, but today it stings more than usual. Before she can react, Daeron charges at him, fists flying as he ignores the football game he was a part of.

The scuffle draws the attention of everyone nearby, and she watches, heart pounding, as she begs them to stop. Normally, Luke's antics wouldn't escalate into a full-blown fight, but things have changed since that summer. The incident with Aemond, where Luke's careless shove left him with a scarred face and a damaged eye, has created an invisible line between the Targaryen-Hightower kids and their nephews.

Mr. Strong, one of their teachers, quickly intervenes, breaking up the fight. As Daeron lets go of Lucerys, his eyes find hers. "Of course, the Strong boys' grandfather would help them out," he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. It's in that moment, seeing the anger in his usually cheerful eyes, that she realizes - anger is an emotion that is so out of place on him.

Later that day, she sneaks into the infirmary with a handful of colorful band-aids, her small act of kindness in response to the cut above Daeron's brow. While his mother and sister argue in the Principal's office, she offers him the band-aids, her fingers trembling slightly. He grins, selecting the blue one with bright stars on it, and they sit together in silence, waiting for the adults to finish.

Daeron wears the band-aid for weeks, long after the cut has healed and the adhesive has started to wear off. He keeps adjusting it, ensuring it stays in place, as if it were a badge of honor. Every time he sees her, he flashes that full-toothed smile, a silent thank you for her support. It's a small gesture, but to her, it's everything.

She now knows what love is.

They’re thirteen years old when she begins resenting the girls around her - especially the ones who grow into themselves, with perfect tits and fuller bodies. Not because she’s yet to come into it herself, no.

Because Daeron looks at them longer than he ever did before.

She watches him watch them, her heart sinking each time his gaze lingers on another girl. Of all the girls, she hates Floris fucking Baratheon the most.

Floris - a senior of theirs by a year - with her perfect hair and confident walk, her infectious laugh and me-me-me personality. Daeron’s eyes follow Floris as she moves through the hallways, and it makes her blood boil. Sometimes, in the privacy of her room, she grumbles about how she hopes Floris - a perfectly nice girl - would get run over by a truck or trip and fall to her death.

She doesn’t mean it, not really.

She tries to distract herself, throwing herself into her studies and extracurricular activities. She spends more time with Helaena, who is wonderfully oblivious to the typical teenage drama, and finds solace in their quiet moments together. But every time she sees Daeron looking at Floris, the pang of jealousy returns, sharper than before.

Months pass, and she begins to notice changes in herself. Her body starts to develop, her hips widening and her chest filling out. She thought that maybe, just maybe, Daeron would start to look at her the way he looks at the other girls. But he doesn’t. His gaze doesn’t linger on her; he doesn’t see her the way he sees them.

It’s the first sign, the first painful realization, that perhaps Daeron’s feelings don’t match her own. She tries to push the thought away, but it’s persistent, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

She remembers one day in particular. It’s gym class, and she’s standing with a group of girls, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Floris is there, laughing and joking. Daeron is among them, his eyes bright as he listens to her, hanging onto her every word.

She feels a sharp pang of jealousy and looks down at herself, wondering why she isn’t enough.

As the weeks go by, her frustration grows. She tries to get Daeron’s attention, hoping he’ll notice the changes in her. She wears new clothes, styles her hair differently, even tries to engage in conversations that might interest him. But nothing works. He’s friendly and kind - he always is - but he doesn’t look at her the way he looks at Floris.

One afternoon, she’s walking home with Daeron. The sun is setting, casting a glow over the neighborhood. They talk about school, about their plans for the weekend. It’s comfortable, familiar, but there’s a distance she can’t bridge. She wants to tell him how she feels, how much it hurts to see him look at other girls, but the words stick in her throat.

Instead, she says, “Do you think people change?”

Daeron glances at her, his expression thoughtful. “I think so. Why?”

She shrugs, trying to keep her voice steady. “Just wondering. Sometimes I feel like I’m changing, but nobody notices.”

He stops walking and turns to face her. “I notice.”

Her heart leaps at his words, but it quickly sinks again as she realizes he means it in the same friendly, brotherly way he always has. She forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, Daeron.”

They continue walking, but the conversation feels hollow. She knows now, with a painful clarity, that no matter how much she changes, she’ll never be the one Daeron looks at with longing. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but she forces herself to accept it.

Back home, she retreats to her room, the place where she can let her guard down. She sits on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and allows herself to cry. The tears come slowly at first, then faster, a torrent of frustration and heartbreak. She wishes things were different, wishes she could make him see her the way she sees him.

As she grows older and explores her own body, the journey of self-discovery becomes a personal and intimate experience. In the quiet of her room, late at night, she begins to understand her own desires. In these private moments, her imagination often drifts to Daeron. Just as his face was the one she envisioned when she read about princes and kings, it is his face that fills her thoughts now. His warm smile, his soft eyes, and the way he laughs—all these details become a vivid part of her fantasies.

As her fingers move gently over her body, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers, she imagines his touch, his presence, and the way he might hold her. The intensity builds, her breaths becoming shallow and rapid.

The name she whispers into the silence is his.

She loves him. She hates him.

She never wants to see him again.

They’re seventeen when prom comes about.

She’s dreamt about this for years - of her in her pretty blue dress on Daeron’s arm, making their way into the room as all her classmates looked.

Only that’s not how it happens.

Floris and Daeron have been going out for years now, and it comes as no surprise that he asks her to be his date. They’re sitting at the dining table at his house as he recounts how romantic the moment was, and how happily she’d said yes. He has all but stomped over her heart by now.

It takes everything in her to not stab him with her fork. Instead, she nibbles on the chicken nuggets that Criston Cole had made for them to snack on - that’s a new development, really. Soon after the divorce, Daeron’s mum began dating the bodyguard; though he suspects they’ve been together for longer.

But Alicent Hightower smiles brighter and shines more than she ever did in Viserys Targaryen’s presence, so her children don’t find it in themselves to be angry. If anything, they’re very supportive and leave them to be.

When he turns to her with that familiar, probing smile that she loves and asks if she will be going, she murmurs Jason Lannister’s name with a casual disinterest she doesn’t fully feel. Daeron’s smile widens, his eyes glinting with mischief as he pokes and prods, clearly trying to coax a blush from her at the mention of the blonde-haired boy.

She wants to love him, but Jason Lannister simply isn’t Daeron Targaryen. No matter how charming or cute this boy - their senior by a year, a classmate of Aemond’s - might be, he can’t compete with the phantom of a dream she’s harbored for years.

She finds it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure. The weight of her crushed dreams feels almost unbearable, and the cheerful tone of his voice only worsens the heartache. Unable to endure it any longer, she mutters something about needing to get some fresh air and stands up abruptly. Daeron, oblivious to her distress, casually mentions that he’s planning to meet Floris soon. The words hit her like a cold wave, and she forces a tight-lipped smile before making her way outside.

The air is cool and quiet as she walks along the gravel path, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her mind is a tumult of emotions—sadness, frustration, and a deep-seated ache that she can’t quite put into words. Absently, she kicks at a small stone, sending it skittering across the ground.

The stone makes a sharp, clinking sound as it collides with a metallic object. Startled, she looks up to see the stone has hit Aemond’s motorbike - the pompous prick even gave it a name: Vhagar. The sound of the impact echoes in the stillness, and her heart skips a beat as she sees a shadowy figure emerge from behind the bike.

It’s Aemond; he’s preparing the motorbike to take with him to university at Oldtown - where she and Daeron will soon follow, with their long-term plans to go to college together. His face, illuminated by the faint light, is a mixture of annoyance that turns into something unreadable. She quickly murmurs a shaky “sorry” before the swell of emotions becomes too much. Her eyes well up with tears she’s been desperately trying to hold back.

He’s curious, but he doesn’t ask why she’s crying. He simply watches her walk away.

Hours later, when Floris Baratheon drives to their house in one of her father’s cars, he sees his brother kiss the girl like she’s the very air he needs to breathe.

Now, he knows what’s happened.

Nothing goes to plan.

Far from it, really.

In all her dreams of prom, she always imagined that she’d dance the night away with Daeron, empowered by all the spiked drinks she knows she’ll love to have. They’ll keep spinning as they did when they were kids, until they’d slow down in tiredness and he’d lean in and kiss all her teenage heartbreak away.

Instead, she sits with both her legs on the same side on Vhagar, with Aemond Targaryen.

Wrong, it’s all gone wrong.

Her dress is blue and pretty and all that she hoped it’d be, but by the Gods, she wants nothing but to shred it to pieces and never see it again. The neon lights of the diner sign that he’s parked under buzzes and she hates the sound. She’s got coffee in her hands, and she holds onto the cup tight as she lets the warmth seep through her. She’s put on his jacket, and it smells like cigarettes. He’s got her bracelet in his pocket, allowing for the wounds on her wrist to breathe.

He’s leaning on the motorbike right next to her, and she chances a look at him. She wonders what she’d have done, what would have happened to her, if he hadn’t been around. She thanks the Gods that he was.

He lifts the cigarette onto his lips and she sees his bloodied knuckles. She clocks the blood on his shirt and the red stains on his signet ring, one that his father gave him when he turned eighteen. She can’t bear to look at the red any longer; she can’t look at any of it without hearing the sounds of him punching Jason Lannister to near death.

“You could have killed him,” she says. Her voice is devoid of any emotions. She speaks like she’s simply inquiring about the weather.

“He’d have deserved it.” The smoke billows, fades, goes into the air.

He flexes his free hand over his thighs and she lets out a long sigh. “It’s nothing, really. Nothing happened. I’m fine.”

“Wylde.” The anger at her denial is obvious, but he doesn’t push. His mismatched pair of blue and violet eyes flare like never before, but she knows Aemond. She knows he simply wants her to not lie, even if she’s not ready to say anything. “Where was Daeron? He’s always with you like a lost dog, isn’t he?”

She can’t blame Daeron for choosing to spend the night with his date. She won’t blame Floris for keeping him all to herself - she’d do the same thing if he was hers. She can’t blame them at all, but she can’t bring herself to stop the bitterness from making its way. “Busy shagging his date, I think,” she spits out.

“Hm.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

She hates the idea of having to explain to anyone at all what had happened. How Jason had his hands up the skirts of her dress, how she kept nodding no, how he continued despite her saying no a hundred times over. She remembers how he’d pressed her hands against the wall, her charm bracelet poking and prodding and searing as it pressed into her skin and drew blood. All of a sudden, she can’t breathe.

She grips the cup tighter, causing the coffee to spill into her hands and it stains the sleeves of his pristine leather jacket too and the tears fall and there’s nothing she can do and she’d helpless again and-

“Wylde.”

“Don’t tell.” She all but chokes the words out, and hopes and prays that he’ll listen.

“Okay.”

They sit in silence for a time, the city moving silently in the twilight as they take it in. Neither of them says a word, and she finishes her coffee in peace. She notices the steel - Valyrian steel, she thinks - bracelet on his right wrist too. When had he begun wearing all this?

“Your mum won’t like it if she finds out you’ve been smoking, you know.”

“What mum doesn’t know…” he says, the sentence left incomplete for her to get that she isn’t to say a word about any of this.

“Okay.”

Many moments of welcome silence pass, and then she hops off the seat of the bike. The message is clear: she’s ready to be taken home.

The engine hums to life beneath her as they merge into the stream of twilight traffic. She wraps her arms around him, feeling the coarse texture of his leather jacket beneath her fingertips. With each breath he takes, his back expands and contracts, a rhythm that grounds her in the present. The bike vibrates gently, its mechanical purr harmonizing with the distant murmur of the city.

The air is thick with the scent of motor oil, mingling with the subtle aroma of leather and something uniquely him. She breathes it in deeply, letting it fill her senses as the city lights stretch out into the dusk. The streets are bathed in the golden glow of street lamps, their light flickering through the trees that line the boulevard.

As they weave through traffic, the sounds of the city become white noise. The hum of engines, the distant chatter of pedestrians, and the occasional blare of a car horn create a backdrop that feels almost surreal. She leans into him, her cheek pressing against his back, feeling the solid reassurance of his presence.

The wind tousles her hair, cool against her skin, as they take a turn onto a quieter street. The city fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic click of the bike’s gears and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. She closes her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to be fully immersed in the sensations—the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the steady thrum of the engine beneath them.

They soon stop at her house, and she steps down. He glances back at her, his eyes shadowed with concern. He scans her from head to toe, his gaze lingering on her face. She sees the struggle in his eyes, the words that he cannot bring himself to say. His brows furrow slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's about to speak but then thinking better of it.

She meets his gaze, her own eyes softening with understanding. Despite the fear still rippling through her, she offers him a small, reassuring smile. “I'm okay,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the city's din. She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her touch.

He doesn’t speak, but his eyes search hers, silently asking if she’s truly alright. She says nothing, simply leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, the gesture full of gratitude and something deeper, something she doesn’t dare name. He won’t mind; it’s just a thank you for being there, she tells herself.

He watches her as she steps back, his gaze following her movements. She pulls his jacket tighter around herself, feeling the comforting weight of it, the lingering scent of him enveloping her. As he revs the engine and rides off into the night, she watches the trail of smoke he leaves behind, her heart full and heavy all at once. The jacket feels like a hug, as though he’s the one holding her, even from afar.

When she goes to bed that night, her dreams are tinged with shades of violet and blue.

Her bracelet, one that he’d gently removed and kept in his trouser pocket doesn’t cross her mind at all. Not once.

She doesn’t see much of Daeron anymore.

She stops visiting Maegor’s Holdfast, though she does show up for Sunday lunch at Alicent Hightower’s insistence. She steps into the house as Criston welcomes her, sunny smiles and easy disposition making her welcome. She momentarily forgets why she’d stopped coming- how Daeron didn’t bother with spending a single moment with her at the prom that he knew she was at, how he’d not bothered to check in afterward. She never even got a chance to tell him herself what Jason had tried to do.

He’s still in the dark about it all, acting like nothing’s gone wrong when she’s slowly removed herself from his orbit. It means Aemond hasn’t told anyone, just as he’d promised.

She looks over Criston Cole’s shoulder and sees Floris Baratheon laughing with Daeron and Alicent, and her scowl deepens immediately.

When the raven haired senior sees her, she comes to her with a kind smile and an outstretched arm that takes her into a hug immediately.

She’s grown weary of strangers touching her since that night, but she holds her own.

The bitterness that engulfs her at Floris Baratheon welcoming her to a house that has essentially been her second home all her life, never quite goes away.

Her feet shuffles and she cancels out all the noise as she absentmindedly makes up bullshit excuses for her absence. She’s seated at the table between Aemond and Helaena, who’d come back home from university to visit for the weekend. The conversation flows smoothly as the juice she has a lot of - the sun is sweltering and she can’t bring herself to eat.

She won’t blame how nauseatingly happy the two of them sitting opposite her are. That has nothing to do with her appetite.

She’s learnt to make her peace with it, how she’d never be the girl that he’d want to be with. She’s content with being his best friend, but lately it seems as though she isn’t even half of that to him. She’s learnt to live her own life without him, but it hurtles her backward and her feet tapping becomes incessant as she watches him break her heart with his next words.

“Floris is going to KLU this summer, I think I’m gonna go too, next year.”

And just like that, their childhood dream of attending college together’s been broken, and it seems as though he doesn’t care one bit.

He looks at her like she’s the only person that exists in his world - she may as well be, at this point - and her anger knows no bounds. She wants to dash out the door and go to her room and take down all her Oldtown University posters and damn it all, damn it all to hell-

Aemond’s hand settles and presses into her thigh, keeping her from tapping her foot any further.

Everyone else at the table seems oblivious to her growing annoyance.

Her eyes meet his and he moves his head, almost as if he is warning her to stay put - but it is calming too, at the same time. She heeds him and somewhere along the way, the hand on her thigh is taken away. She misses the warmth of it, weirdly so.

She leaves with half hearted goodbyes and buries herself in the sheets in her room. An entire tub of icecream is swiftly eaten up as she holds her book in the other hand, willing herself not to cry.

He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve her tears-

The bell rings, and the head housemaid of Rain House swiftly makes it to her room and knocks on the door. “It’s Master Daeron for you, miss,” she says, her voice laced with a slight Essosi accent that she still holds onto after years. Her grip on the book is frightening, her knuckles going white.

She walks down in careful, slow steps - her legs feel like jelly as she makes the descent on the staircase.

She takes a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest, as she finally reaches the bottom of the staircase. Daeron stands there, looking unsure and nervous. The sight of him stirs a whirlwind of emotions within her—anger, hurt, betrayal. She steels herself, determined to say everything that’s been building up inside her.

"Why are you here?" she asks, her voice colder than she intends.

"I... I wanted to talk," he says softly, trying to meet her gaze.

"Talk?" she scoffs, crossing her arms. "Now you want to talk? After everything?"

He takes a step forward, but she steps back, putting more distance between them. "I've been busy with—"

"Busy?" she interrupts, her voice rising. "Busy ignoring me? Busy replacing me with Floris? Busy planning a future that doesn't include me?"

"That's not fair," he protests, looking pained. "Floris is my girlfriend, and—"

"And what? That means I don't matter anymore? That our friendship doesn't matter?" Her voice is shaking now, the floodgates of her emotions bursting open. "We had plans, Daeron! We were going to go to Oldtown University together. We talked about it for years. And now you're just throwing it all away for her, a girl you’ve known for what, two minutes?"

"It's not like that," he tries to explain, but she cuts him off again.

"Not like that? You didn't even tell me! I had to hear it at the table, like I'm some stranger! You made me feel like I don't matter, like I'm just... second best."

"You're not second best," he insists, looking desperate.

"Then why do I feel like it?" she yells. "You’ve been treating me like I'm nothing! Do you know what it's like to be ignored by your best friend? To feel like you're losing the one person who meant everything to you?"

"Please, just listen—"

"No, you listen!" she screams, her eyes blazing with fury. "Jason Lannister... he... he fucking tried to rape me at prom." Her voice cracks, the memory of that night overwhelming her. "Aemond found me. Of all people, Aemond saved me. And where were you? With Floris, having the time of your life, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in hell."

She knows it’s wrong to blame him. What happened that night had nothing to do with him, but she can’t help herself. The floodgates are open after years of quiet, and she is on a roll.

His face pales, and he opens his mouth to speak, but she doesn't let him. "You promised we'd go to college together, you promised we'd always be there for each other. And now you're breaking that promise for her. You're betraying our friendship for someone you've known for a fraction of the time you've known me."

"I didn't know," he whispers, tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't know about Jason. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" she echoes, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Sorry doesn't fix this. Sorry doesn't undo the pain you've caused. I hate you, Daeron. I hate you for making me feel worthless, for betraying our friendship, for everything." He steps back, stunned by her words, and for a moment, they just stare at each other, the weight of her anger and his guilt hanging heavily in the air.

If she says any more, she may tell him she’s been in love with him all this time and embarrass herself further.

"I fucking hate you," she says, her voice icy and final.

He looks ethereal even in his sadness, and she hates herself for thinking about how beautiful he looks even then.

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then he closes it, a quiet apology dying on his lips. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving her standing there, her heart shattered but her resolve unbroken. As the door closes behind him, she collapses on the staircase, tears streaming down her face, the enormity of her outburst sinking in.

The days that follow blur together in a haze of bitterness and exhaustion. She clings to Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon, doing her best to go about her business without causing a stir. She avoids Daeron at all costs. The pitying, sad look he gives her from afar makes her consider forgiving him, but then Floris Baratheon sits right next to him and his attention is stolen. In those moments, she remembers why they fought in the first place.

“I’m sorry about you and Daeron,” Ellyn says one afternoon. “Floris said you had a fight and don’t speak to each other anymore.”

“Floris says, huh?”

“She is my sister, you know.”

“Hm.”

She never lets these conversations go on for too long, cutting them short before the pain seeps through her facade.

In truth, though, she’s tired of holding onto her grudges. She deserves to be a little hateful, but she’s never been the type to be angry for too long. But she’s not a Septa either, not quite as forgiving. This half-in, half-out approach exhausts her more than she wants to admit. Each day feels like a battle, her energy sapped by the effort of maintaining her cold indifference.

Summer break comes soon, and with it, the promise of rest and a new year of school that would follow. She doesn’t call her father - Jasper Wylde is often on trips for work that she never asks about. Summers used to be filled with laughter and adventure when her mother was alive, but there hasn’t been much joy in the house since her passing. So she wallows, feeling the oppressive weight of solitude and grief.

Usually, she’d spend her summers with the Targaryens. Alicent never minded having her around and even loved entertaining her like her own child. The Targaryen household was a second home, a sanctuary filled with warmth and belonging. But she’s got her pride, and she won’t go now. Not after everything that’s happened.

The Targaryens often retreated to their summer house in Oldtown, where the Hightowers lived. The memories of those summer vacations flood her mind, making her want to double down and cry. She recalls the grand manor with its sprawling gardens, the scent of salt in the air from the Sunset Sea, and the endless days of sun-drenched bliss.

They’d spend hours lounging by the pool, with lemonade and cold treats while the children splashed and played. Evenings were filled with elegant dinners under the stars, laughter echoing through the hallways, and the comfort of a family that, despite their flaws, loved deeply and fiercely. She’d felt like she belonged there, like she was part of something bigger than herself.

But now, those memories are tainted by the ache of loss and betrayal. She’s haunted by the image of Daeron and Floris, their laughter and closeness a stark contrast to her own loneliness. The joy she once felt in the Targaryen household now feels like a cruel reminder of what she’s lost.

She tries to distract herself, diving into books and mindless TV shows, but nothing can truly drown out the emptiness inside her. The isolation gnaws at her, a constant, nagging pain that she can’t shake off. She misses the days when she could simply be herself, without the heavy cloak of anger and sorrow weighing her down. She misses the carefree summers, the feeling of being loved and wanted.

Tears often come unbidden, hot and angry, as she lies in bed at night. She curses herself for caring so much, for letting him cut her so deeply. She tells herself she’s strong, that she doesn’t need him or anyone else, but the ache in her chest tells a different story.

He’s just some boy, she tells herself. But she’s also quick to fight her own words: He’s more, more, more.

She wishes she could turn back time, to before everything fell apart. To when Daeron was her best friend, her confidant, her rock. When her mother’s laughter filled the house and summers were something to look forward to. But those days are gone, and she’s left to navigate the wreckage on her own.

Her heart feels heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved pain. She’s tired of being angry, tired of feeling like she’s fighting a losing battle. But the hurt is too deep, the wounds too fresh. So she puts on a brave face, holds her head high, and tries to move forward, even though every step feels like she’s walking through quicksand.

She sits on her bed, staring blankly at the pages of a book she isn't truly reading. Her mind is far away, lost in a whirlpool of memories and pain. The house is eerily silent, amplifying her loneliness. She feels as if she’s adrift in a vast ocean, with no shore in sight. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand, but she ignores it, knowing it's probably another call from her father that she won't answer.

A sudden knock on her bedroom door startles her. She wipes away the tears that have been silently streaming down her face and tries to compose herself.

"Come in," she calls out, her voice weak as she expects the house help to call her for food.

The door opens and Aemond steps in, holding a box. His presence is a mix of comfort and awkwardness, as if he's not sure how to approach her in this state.

"Cole made Tiramisu," Aemond says softly, holding out the box. "Mum asked Daeron to bring it to you or call you over, but he rambled on about how you’re angry at him and won’t speak to him."

Her room is a blend of organized chaos and personal touches. Bookshelves line one wall, filled with novels, textbooks, and sketchbooks. A stack of half-read books sit on her nightstand, and her art supplies are scattered across a small desk in the corner. Posters of Oldtown University adorn the walls. A few framed photos of her and her mother and happier times with the Targaryens are interspersed among her drawings.

Aemond walks slowly, his eyes taking in the details. He runs his fingers lightly over the spines of the books, glancing at the titles. He pauses by her desk, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through a few pages. He sets it down gently and moves to the posters, studying them as if trying to understand what they mean to her.

"Your father called this morning," Aemond continues, his voice gentle. "Your staff picked up and said you’re here, but you refuse to pick up his calls. He practically begged Mum to send someone to check in on you. He’s worried."

She sighs, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. "I don’t want to talk to him. Or anyone, really."

Aemond places the box on her bedside table and sits down next to her, his expression one of genuine concern as the mattress dips. He doesn’t look at her directly at first, his eyes wandering over the room as he gathers his thoughts.

"You don't have to talk if you don’t want to. But you can’t shut everyone out forever."

She looks at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I’m just so tired, Aemond. Tired of feeling like this. Tired of being angry and hurt."

His gaze finally settles on her, and for the first time, he sees her, well and proper. She’s not quite sure how to feel about it all.

He passes the box to her wordlessly, and she picks up the spoon on top of it before holding the box with her other hand.

She looks down at her full hands, not quite being able to summon the courage to look him in the eye. "I just... I don’t know how to move on from this. It’s like everything is falling apart, and I can’t fix it."

“Eat,” he demands. So she does. She smiles at how good it is.

“So Criston’s been cooking a lot, huh? He’s gonna put all the kitchen staff at your house out of business.”

“Yes, from bodyguard to personal chef. Quite the promotion,” he says, but there is a soft smile that follows. “He makes mum happy.”

“Good. She deserves that.”

She extends a full spoon to him, but he declines with a shake of his head. Neither of them say anything, and she continues to eat. The silence is deafening but comfortable by all accounts. The only sounds are the soft clinking of her spoon against the box and the distant hum of life outside her room.

Aemond shifts slightly, making himself comfortable on the edge of her bed. He watches her with a quiet intensity, his presence a steady, grounding force. He’s never been one to fill silence with meaningless words.

His eyes wander around the room again. He notices a framed photo on her nightstand, half-hidden behind a stack of books. It’s a picture of her with Daeron, taken during one of those sun-drenched summer vacations. They’re both smiling, their faces bright with happiness.

She sees his pity, and she chooses to ignore it.

Her expression hardens for a moment, then softens into something more reflective. She sets down the Tiramisu and reaches for the picture, moving across him. She chooses to not focus on how warm his breath is on her as she moves, instead focusing on her fingers tracing the edges of the frame.

"Do you remember this day?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond nods. "Two years ago?"

She sighs, a mix of nostalgia and sorrow in her eyes. "I miss it. I miss how simple everything was." I miss when I felt wanted.

“Hm.”

Turning her gaze to Aemond, she finds herself filled with a deep sense of gratitude. "Thank you for coming, Aemond," she says softly. "I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to be here with me until you actually did."

He lets out a noiseless, subtle chuckle - as is his habit. She continues, feeling overwhelmed by how thankful she is. "I’ve pushed everyone away. I thought it was easier to deal with everything on my own. But now... I’m just so grateful that you came.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, the weight of her grief and anger easing with each passing moment. She feels a sense of clarity she hasn’t felt in a long time. Her head feels heavy, however - she leans on his shoulder, and he lets her.

Somewhere along the way, their hands entwined had been left to rest on her thigh. She doesn’t give it much thought apart from how warm her hand is in his hold.

Almost an hour later, they stand in the living room as he readies himself to leave. She looks out the window and sees Vhagar parked outside, and she quickly remembers. Darting to her room, she comes back with his jacket from the other night. She wordlessly hands it to him, and he smiles by the corner of his lips as he puts it back on.

“When do you leave for Oldtown?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“So this is goodbye then?”

“Only for a time, I think. Or have you changed your mind about Oldtown now that-”

“Daeron’s ditched me?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing to not extend her invitation for a pity party.

“I haven’t given it much thought lately. I probably should. I just… college was an experience that we were going to take on together, you know? I never thought of what it would be like if I had to do it alone.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll learn. Just… not right now. I’m just going to lick my wounds for a bit.”

He begins scratching at his cuticles and she grabs the hint. “You should get going. Lots of packing to do, I bet?”

“The staff took care of it.”

Of course they did. He’ll never have to lift a finger, silver- haired Targaryen prince that he is.

“Economics, huh? And then an MBA along with an internship at one of Targaryen Consolidated’s major divisions before your father puts you in one of the high chairs?”

He blushes at how predictable his path seems to her.

“If it counts for anything, I feel like you were made for this. Born for this.”

He nods, letting her words of affirmation wash over him as he finally makes a move. “You take care of yourself, yeah?” He murmurs, his lips warm against her brow as she stands, basking in his welcome warmth.

He withdraws too quickly for her liking.

Once again, she watches him ride the motorbike away from her as she stands on her front porch.

He'll miss her when he goes.

The realization strikes him with the force of the cold wind that stings his cheeks as he rides. It’s a sharp, undeniable truth that cuts through his thoughts, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He had come to return her bracelet, a simple task with a clear objective. He should have done it when she’d returned his jacket. Yet, standing before her, seeing the familiar glint in her eyes and the way her hair framed her face, he found himself unable to follow through.

The bracelet's weight was a physical discomfort, pressing against his leg as if to remind him of her.

Perhaps that’s why he chooses to take it with him to university too.

Months later, she doesn’t know what to expect when she bumps into Daeron at the library - but it’s certainly not this.

It’s not quite bumping, to be honest. She’s off in the corner studying, the same corner that they used to share. It seemed that he still favored the same table, because he came to it too, only to freeze in her presence.

Neither of them says a word until he weakly mumbles.

“Hey.”

She gulps and quickly stands, the awkwardness pervading her very senses as she - for the first time in her entire life - feels uncomfortably clueless around him. “I was just leav-”

He’s quick to cage her, and her breath is knocked out. She remembers a time when she’d have killed to be this close to him.

“You’re not going anywhere till we talk.”

She’s tilting her head to the side in a defeated motion but he does not deter, so she sighs and gives in.

How bad could it possibly be?

They’re on the sidewalk, walking together but as strangers - a stark contrast to how it used to be. The reminder is sharp as a horrid pain shoots through her skull, a dull headache forming at the thought of all that has happened coming back. Her hands clutch onto the straps of her backpack tighter than ever before, knuckles going white.

She buys them their drinks as he gets what used to be their regular table at Nightblooms, the quaint cafe near the school that she loves. His Sunspearino and her King’s Landing Iced Tea are cold in her hands as she takes them over to the table. She pushes his glass to him wordlessly as he mutters his thanks.

She absentmindedly stirs with her straw, eyes trained on the floor. The awkwardness is seemingly never ending, but he’s always been quite the seamless crowd puller.

“How have you been?”

Her nod is all over the place as she focuses on the wall behind him, and he sighs. “Seriously, how long is it going to be like this?”

Her nose flares at his apparent impatience - what did he expect?

“I know you. I know you. You’re not the kind to be angry for long. So why are you being like this with me?”

She still says nothing, now sipping on her drink as she looks out the window, watching the herd of vehicles passing by. She counts two green cars before he continues.

“I miss you. I miss… my best friend.”

There it is. The words she’s hated her entire life.

“You seemed to be doing fine without me earlier.” She’s bitter and it’s pointless, she knows. She’s perhaps even taking it a bit far. But she feels the way she feels and there’s little she can do to make it go away.

“I made a mistake. I am sorry for it. Do you really not want to forgive me?”

She shouldn’t. She hates how he treated her. She hates how he left her behind. She hates how after all this time, he can still pull her in like nothing’s happened. She hates him, him, him-

Most of all, she hates how little it takes to get her to forgive him.

She hates how much she misses him too.

“I was in love with you, you know.” The words tumble out before she can even make sense of what she’s saying.

And there it was.

She’s dreamt of saying this to him a hundred different ways - not one of her dreams involved them seated across each other like this, with her barely holding onto her sanity.

It takes all of her patience to not pull her hair out right then.

“I know.”

Words are usually wind, but these are a boot-clad foot; they threaten to crush the life out of her with each moment that passes.

“I asked him why he never said anything, and he said he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Hm.” She hears the sound of a lighter click on the other end, and she knows he’s smoking. She can picture him clearly. His black t-shirt, hair in a slick man bun, his leather jacket probably slung to the side or left haphazardly on his bed on a throw. The smoke would billow out in small puffs as he flexes his knuckles like he always does.

“And then we just… I don’t know. Just sort of sat there for a bit. “

“Hm.”

“We didn’t say much after. I was much too embarrassed to continue and he seemed tired as well. Just finished our drinks and he insisted on walking me home.”

For what seems like a long moment, Aemond says nothing. The silence stretches between them, but it's not uncomfortable. She can hear him exhale slowly and there's the soft rustle of his jacket as he shifts. She knows Aemond is there, just taking his time to process everything. The distant hum of the city is barely noticeable against the rhythm of his steady breathing, the occasional flex of his knuckles making a soft, almost imperceptible pop.

She stretches on her own bed before shifting to her side and finally asks, “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice softer now. There's a pause before he continues, “Are you… do you still have feelings for him?”

Her breath catches slightly. She hasn’t been asked this directly, not ever. “It hasn’t completely gone away,” she admits. “There’s always going to be something there. But no, not quite as I used to.”

He hums again, and she imagines him taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him. “Good. Maybe it’s time to focus on other things. Other people.”

She smiles at his gentle nudge. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Speaking of other people, have you made any new friends at university? Meet anyone interesting?”

Aemond hesitates, and she can almost hear him weighing his words. “Yeah, a few people.”

She grins, sensing an opportunity. “Anyone special?”

He’s silent for a beat too long. “Hm...”

“Is that a yes?” Her excitement is barely concealed.

“Perhaps.”

Her grin widens. “Oh, come on, Aemond. You can’t just say ��perhaps’ and leave it at that. Tell me!”

He sighs, and she can tell he’s trying not to smile. “There’s someone, but it’s nothing serious.”

Her curiosity piqued, she presses on. “What’s their name?”

“No.”

She laughs, teasing him. “Give me something!”

“Hm.”

“Just a hint?”

“No.”

She pouts, though she knows he can’t see it. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Nothing much to say. It’s… too soon.”

He’s never been one to divulge at her insistence, but she can’t resist one last playful prod. “Fine, but you owe me details eventually.”

“Maybe,” he says, his tone somewhat lighter than before.

She smiles, feeling closer to him despite the distance. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

She can’t see him, and he’s quite far away - but she’s convinced he’s smiling, in that arrogant, self assured way that he always does.

She’s two months away from completing school for good when her acceptance to Oldtown arrives.

She’s under no illusions about any of it. She may be smart and have great grades, but it is her family’s faint traces of aristocracy and their connections to the businesses of some of the greatest families of Westeros that makes the stick fall in her favor.

She’ll just have to make sure she’s worth it.

I’m in, see you in 3 months, she texts him. The waving ellipsis forms in his chat almost instantly, and she knows he’s happy for her.

Congratulations . Happy for you.

Moving away for university and starting fresh is her only motivation to keep going, she finds. The idea of a clean slate is too enticing for her own good, but she cannot help it. She is excited at the thought of Oldtown - the architecture, the weather, the libraries and the cafes can only be much more beautiful now than when she saw it all as a baby on vacation.

And there’s Aemond too.

There are many happy things to look out for. But as months pass and the time to leave dawns closer , there’s simpler pleasures - like her father being back in the city to see her graduate.

The graduation ceremony at the Visenya Targaryen Memorial School unfolds with all the grandeur one might expect from such an exclusive institution. Nestled amidst meticulously manicured gardens, the school buildings stand tall. Ivy-clad stone walls, expansive lawns, and ornate iron gates contribute to the atmosphere as some of the most prestigious and richest families assemble to see their children mark their first major milestone.

Students clad in crisp white dresses and tailored suits gather in anticipation. The scent of blooming roses mingles with the soft murmur of excited chatter, creating an air of expectant joy. The girls’ dresses, delicately embroidered and paired with modest pearls, and the boys’ sharp suits, complete with silk ties make them all look perfectly ready to step into their generational wealth.

The ceremony takes place in a grand marquee set up on the main lawn, its white canopy fluttering gently in the breeze. Inside, rows of elegant wooden chairs are adorned with satin ribbons, and an aisle carpeted in red velvet leads to a stage draped in the school’s colors. The stage itself is framed by two grand, blossoming floral arrangements.

"You look so much like your mother in certain lights," he says softly, kissing her good luck on the cheek before taking his place among the other parents. He tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear before he goes.

The Targaryens, of course, occupy the front-row seats, a privilege owed to their immense donations to the school, their status as the wealthiest family in the country and the name on the school gates. However, Criston is notably absent from their midst, instead seated among the other parents. An image must be maintained, and hell would break loose before Alicent Hightower is seen in public with the man who was once her bodyguard, especially in the company of Viserys.

She feels a pang of sympathy for Alicent; Criston spent far more time with Daeron than Viserys ever did and deserves to be at the front more than his father. The politics of appearance, however, dictate otherwise.

Helaena has come back to watch her brother graduate. Having begun her master's in microbiology at Oldtown, she is soon planning to go into research. Aegon and Aemond, however, are off on a trip. Despite his absence, Aemond sends her a text, offering his wishes and congratulations. The text is followed by a drunk jumble of letters that she manages to decipher as ‘Thank fuck you’re done with school,” which she assumes is from Aegon.

The graduates are called to the stage one by one, their names echoing through the marquee, accompanied by held back and dignified applause. When her name is finally announced, she takes a deep breath and walks up the aisle, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. She receives her diploma with a graceful nod, her gaze briefly meeting Headmaster Strong’s in a moment of shared respect.

As she returns to her seat, she catches her father's eye, his expression beaming with pride. She also notices Daeron watching her, having already received his diploma. The fleeting glance between them doesn’t make her angry or tired anymore, and she knows a conversation between them is due.

After the ceremony, she mingles with her classmates, posing for pictures with Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon. As the photographer captures their smiles, she catches sight of Daeron across the lawn. He stands with his hands on Floris' waist, speaking animatedly to Borros Baratheon and his wife. They look happy, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter.

The crowd around them seems to blur as she and Daeron finally walk towards each other. She notes the easy way Daeron holds Floris, and a surprising realization dawns on her: she doesn't care as much anymore. Perhaps this is what closure feels like, or maybe she's simply over him. The certainty eludes her, but the weight on her heart feels lighter.

"Congratulations," she says, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

“You too.”

“So, KLU?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, uhm… I am happy for you, you know?”

“I know. You never had it in you to be angry for long at me.”

She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or wring his neck for making her feel taken for granted. She chooses to smile instead.

“I think it’ll be good for us,” she says. “This time away.”

“Suppose so. Guess we’ll have quite a few stories to tell when we meet again.”

Floris’ laugh is distinctly light and they hear it from where they stand. “You’re happy.”

“I think so,” he says. She doesn’t know what to make of his uncertainty.

“Last chance to come with me to Oldtown,” she chuckles, a brazen attempt at a joke.

He chuckles. “Are we laughing about this now?” The sound of a camera clicking them makes them both turn. It is Helaena with her polaroid camera, and they’re both quick to swarm her to take a look at what she’s captured.

The visual slowly comes to life as she shakes the ever loving life out of the photo. Daeron is laughing with his head up to the sky, and she’s slowly chuckling with the back of her hand covering her mouth, her eyes looking at him.

It’s almost as if they’re best friends again.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST No tag list. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

330 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 9 months ago

Text

Can We Start Over | Ch. 5 The Coincidence

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 5. Summary: Things have changed for you and Harry but when you see him at a meeting, you are taken by surprise. It feels like destiny. Maybe this time things will work out for you two.

A/N: This is the final part to this series! Thank you everyone who stuck with the story and gave it a shot! Appreciate all the love!

Word Count: 12.7k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, smut, fluff

Can We Start Over? masterlist

Mr. Allen was on the phone again. He’d called you into his office but the moment you stepped in he got a call and told you to sit and wait. That it would only be a minute.

And it was only a minute. But then he got another call and now it was 23 minutes later while he was still yammering about some person who was just the worst.

You were used to it, though. Mr. Allen was retired so nothing was a rush for him anymore. Which also meant he held other people up. But waiting for your boss was the least of your worries.

His wife and her ever-changing personality was your biggest concern. She was, to put it mildly, a monster. And to make matters worse, she ran the whole household so you were often seeking her out for things. Mrs. Allen also handled her husband’s schedule and if he was running behind guess who got the blame. That’s right. You did. Every time.

And it was the same thing over and over again. You started your day trying to keep Mr. Allen up to task, failed, got reprimanded and degraded by a nasty human, held back tears and then took a long drive with loud music to clear your head with a quick stop for dinner, probably at a drive-through.

Needless to say, you were already planning on quitting. You’d gotten really lucky with Alfred. And even working with Harry hadn’t been as bad as it was working for Mrs. Allen and her husband. But you tried not to think about Harry if you could help it.

By the time Mr. Allen got off the phone he was running late for his physical therapy appointment. You got him moving along quickly and sent him on his way but not before Mrs. Allen started poking around and making comments under her breath.

“What was that?” You turned to look behind yourself at the wicked witch as she stood near the edge of the foyer.

“He’s late again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That is correct.”

She rolled her eyes, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant who can’t even keep the boss on schedule?”

You smiled, holding back your true thoughts, “Well, being as my job description doesn’t entail using physical force on the boss, which is what it would take to get Mr. Allen to keep on time for anything, I’m certain you’ll find that once again, this isn’t my responsibility.”

“Lazy,” she spoke under her breath.

You tilted your head and squinted your eyes at her, “That’s the last thing I am. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday is over. Have a good evening.”

You walked past her to go into your room to pack up your laptop and leave. You’d stay at your own place that night. You hated staying at the Allen’s house. Not only was the room they’d given you a tiny spec of a thing with no windows, no closet, and not even a single rug to cover the cold tile floors but being anywhere near Mrs. Allen made your skin crawl.

“I don’t know why we bother with the room for you,” she was standing in the doorway when you turned around.

“You really didn’t bother much with the room in the first place. That’s why I don’t stay here. My house has a better bed with a big window looking into my backyard. I just feel better in my own bed at night.”

You walked past her and held your breath so as not to inhale her disgusting, pungent perfume. You used to like the scent she wore. But now you loathed it. Whenever you smelled it, even on another woman, it made you queasy. You very much did not like Mrs. Allen.

You turned up the volume on your car radio the moment your front tires hit the road. You always looked forward to going home after work. This day wasn’t as bad as you’d had before and tomorrow you’d do it all over again.

And instead of stopping at a drive-through for fast food, you decided you’d stop at the grocery store and pick up ingredients to actually make something fresh.

Typically you didn’t cook. You didn’t have time for it. Picking up groceries would put you home at almost 8 pm. And then you still needed to cook so you wouldn’t be eating until close to 9 and then you could finally relax with a glass of wine and a good book or something trashy on television. Which was why drive-throughs were your go-to dinner plans. It meant you were home by 7:30 and dinner was already cooked. Not the best use of money and certainly not the healthiest way to live but you wouldn’t be doing it much longer.

You had a meeting to attend with Mr. and Mrs. Allen the following week that piqued your interest. It was for a piece of art that they’d been looking for. And someone found it for them. From an art dealer who was not too far away. You didn’t know for sure but you had a feeling. And you wanted to find out if that feeling was right.

Maybe you were a masochist and just wanted to pour salt onto the wound of your split open heart one more time. Or maybe you did have some hope that it was Harry and that maybe you could try and receive his feelings for you once and for all.

But it’d been just over 9 months since you’d seen him and you were sure he’d moved on by now. There would be no reason for him to still be pining over you the way you were over him. And what were the chances that it was him in the first place? You didn’t know but you needed to find out.

Yeah. You regretted what you’d done. Pushing him away like that. But once you’d done it, it felt like it was too late to go back. Maybe it was your pride. Or that little voice in the back of your head that told you men always leave and they always lie. That anyone that might love you would probably just disappoint you in the end.

But now you were in therapy and talking to someone opened your eyes to your self-sabotaging ways. You had been certain that the way you felt couldn’t be helped. That you were a prisoner to your trauma and all the hurt and that it was for the best. You’d been wrong, though. You could help the way you processed feelings and the way you responded when things got hard. You didn’t have to push away the notion that a man could love you or keep running away from your problems.

After picking up ingredients to make a nice little dinner for yourself you arrived at your cute house.

You loved the place. Loved the neighborhood. You found it a few weeks after you told Harry to leave your apartment. It wasn’t that far from your old place but you felt like it was good enough for a new start. At the time, you were ready to take the plunge. To move on. It was just a rental but it felt like your own place.

Though, not long after moving in you started feeling like getting rid of every trace of Harry had been a bad idea. You missed him. However, you didn’t recognize how you were feeling for him until you began therapy. The more you spoke honestly about everything and without any judgment, you began to peel off layers of yourself that you had unconsciously piled on to protect yourself. But that only wound up making things worse.

And one night, almost six months since you’d seen him, you decided to drive past his big, gated home. You still had the fob to his entry but of course, you wouldn’t use it. You only wanted to just drive past. To your surprise, there was a For Sale sign stuck in the grass in front of the gate.

You parked across from the house and tried to see if there was anything that indicated he’d actually moved out but seeing inside was impossible. You could see the top level of the house and that was really it.

The sinking feeling in your chest that you’d probably never see him again started to settle over you slowly. You’d moved away and blocked him from everything and then deleted his contact and now he was no longer living in the only place you knew where he might be. He was gone.

But then when you helped set up the meeting with the art dealer there was the smallest tinge of hope there. You felt like this might be your last chance. You had just been about to quit when Mrs. Allen gave you the number to an assistant of a dealer who had access to a painting they wanted. You never learned the name of the art dealer, only of the assistant who worked for them.

So you’d stick it out until after the meeting and then you’d give up your hope for ever seeing Harry again if it wasn’t him. And you’d also quit your job once and for all.

Of course, it’s not him. Don’t get your hopes up.

You had to remind yourself of that over and over again. The chances were slim that you would actually be seeing Harry.

Either way, you were looking forward to that meeting. Even if it wasn’t Harry, you’d be free of Mr. and Mrs. Allen once and for all after you quit.

But the days dragged on slowly. The only thing that was good about the time that led up to the meeting was the little secret that you were quitting. It was something you were excited about.

The morning of the meeting you woke up well before your alarm went off. You’d been unable to fall back asleep as you remembered the last time you and Harry slept together. The words he spoke to you that night haunted you every day since, “Want to make you feel so good. Want to make you smile, Y/n. Want to make you happy.”

You sighed. You hoped it was him at the meeting. You hoped there was still some way to salvage what you’d done. Hoped there was still something there. If it was him, that is.

Your entire morning routine had turned into a spa event. You turned on your coffee pot and then got into the shower, getting yourself ready for the possibility of anything and everything. You had selected your outfit days prior and put on a full face of makeup. You were going to look your absolute best.

And no matter what the outcome of the meeting was, today was a good day. Because at the end of it, you’d be a free woman. You’d never again step foot in the Allen house. You took all of your belongings from the spec of a bedroom over a few days so no one would notice. You rarely stayed over anyway so it wasn’t like you needed to keep much there in the first place.

You had a taxi take you to the Allen’s on that day. Because your plan was to quit the moment the painting was purchased and you weren’t going to be going back to their house with them after the meeting just to get your car. You’d get a taxi home. It was quite dramatic but you couldn’t wait to quit. Couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Allen you were done and then walk off. Only a few more hours.

When you arrived at the Allen’s your first stop was the kitchen to make Mr. Allen’s coffee (skim milk and stevia) and Mrs. Allen’s chai green tea with raw honey. This was always the best part of your day. Things were usually quiet, Mrs. Allen wasn’t raging just yet, and the morning light that came into their gorgeous kitchen felt peaceful. While the coffee was perking you brought Mrs. Allen her tea drink where you knew you’d find her and placed it down on its coaster next to her. As usual, she did not acknowledge your existence or even say thank you.

Mr. Allen was always cordial, however.

“Morning Mr. Allen. Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank you, Y/n. Have you seen my wife this morning?”

You smiled and stood next to his desk, “I just gave her some tea. Why?”

“I think she wanted to make sure we had wire information set up to pay for the painting today. She’s very set on making the purchase. Can you double-check we have everything we need?”

“I’m certain we have everything we need but I’ll definitely do a quick check.”

As you suspected, everything was ready to go. When you confirmed as much you went to find Mrs. Allen to tell her.

“Mr. Allen told me you wanted to make sure the wire instructions were ready and I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got everything we need and it’s all ready to go for when it comes time to pay.”

“Good. Now,” she turned to look at you, “this is a meeting we cannot be late for so I’d appreciate it if you could have everything ready for us so there are no delays. I don’t want any excuses.”

You nodded, stifling the small laugh before it could make it out of your mouth, “Of course, Mrs. Allen.”

But as always, Mr. Allen was dawdling. You did remind him of the meeting but he assured you he was going to be on time. He wasn’t. You weren’t surprised.

When it was time to leave he was still in his office in his slippers on his third cup of coffee talking to his brother about sports.

“I told you this is a meeting we cannot be late for. This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Allen was red in the face as she barked at you. Somehow, she always seemed shocked when her husband held things up. You didn’t know how it was possible that she was so surprised.

You blinked your eyes and sighed, “He doesn’t need to be at the meeting with us. I say we just go. He’ll be fine here by himself.”

She nodded and mumbled under her breath about your incompetence, “Tell him we’re leaving without him. I’m going to get the driver to pull the car around.”

You poked your head into the office and waved at Mr. Allen and he pulled the phone from his ear to look at you with his brows raised. As if he didn’t know what was going on.

“We’re going to leave now for the painting. You can stay behind. No need for you to be there. Okay?”

He smiled at you and nodded before getting back to his call. You knew he didn’t care. This painting wasn’t for him. It was for Mrs. Allen. It was something she’d been wanting. She’d just hang it up alongside the rest of her collection of exotic animal paintings and artwork.

The car ride was silent. Which you preferred. You tried not speaking to Mrs. Allen when you could help it. Luckily she wasn’t interested in having a conversation with you.

And 30 minutes later when you arrived, your mind was swirling with thoughts of what could happen and what probably wouldn’t.

Your nerves were all over the place. If you were about to walk into a room with Harry Styles, being nervous was warranted. You hadn’t seen his handsome face in so long and wanted so badly for it to be him.

It was unlikely. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. No reason to get your hopes up.

You and Mrs. Allen got out of the car once the driver had let you both out at the front.

It was a public gallery so everyone could just walk in to admire the art. You noticed there were people inside looking at the sculptures and paintings as you followed behind Mrs. Allen toward the desk at the side of the room where a young woman sat.

“Hi. I’m Delia Allen here for a meeting to view the Ghaui piece.”

The young woman smiled widely, “Yes. Of course! Just follow me. We have it moved into a special viewing room just for you.”

If there was ever a moment in your life where you thought that one small step toward a physical room could forever change your life, it was this. What if he was there? What if he wasn’t?

The gallery wasn’t a large space but there were temporary walls placed around the room to act as dividers and a spot for more art to hang. You wove around the walls and into a hallway where the young woman stepped into a room with Mrs. Allen just behind her. You paused for a moment before stepping inside. This was it. It either was or it wasn’t.

Placing your hand on the frame of the door and taking a deep breath you breached the space to enter the viewing room and found that there was no one else inside. It was the painting that Mrs. Allen had been so keen on buying, hung up with lights aimed at it, a table and chairs.

You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. You imagined someone would be inside the room waiting for you.

“The dealer will be right in. He’s finishing up something with someone else. Five minutes tops.”

The painting was of elephants in an African wildlife scene. It wasn’t your taste but you had to respect Mrs. Allen for her interests. If there was anything about her you could say you liked, it was her love of animals and how much support she’d given African wildlife sanctuaries. She’d also gone on many safaris (without Mr. Allen you learned) and helped fund conservation parks that helped employ people and protect the land and animals. Honestly, when you found out this was her thing you felt like you were looking at a different woman.

She was still a bitch, though.

“I thought this meeting was set up and ready to go, Y/n,” she turned to look at you. As if somehow the dealer running late was your fault.

“It is set and ready. The girl said the dealer would be right in. We just need to wait a couple of minutes.”

You didn’t look at her face as you responded. You were done looking at her face. After this meeting, you’d never have to look at it again.

“Sergi could’ve come if I knew this was going to happen.”

You rolled your eyes, back facing her as you looked over the lines and the paint on the canvas. It was a well-done piece of art.

When the door opened only a moment later you felt your heart stop for a split second, a chill ran down your face, over your shoulders, and through your spine as you slowly turned around when Mrs. Allen spoke, “Finally.”

Your vision grew spotty, like tiny particles floating around and mixing up the scene before you. Fuzzy like a grey screen on a television. You blinked your eyes to clear your sight as you looked at him for the first time in over 9 months. It was him.

And his reaction to you appeared much the same, with him pausing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“Hello? Are you the dealer?” Mrs. Allen was great at ruining a moment.

Harry’s eyes blinked as he shook his head and finally peeled his sight from you to look at the other woman in the room. He cleared his throat, closing the door behind himself, and stepped forward to Mrs. Allen with his hand out, “Yes. I’m the dealer. Harry Styles,” he shook her hand and then shot his eyes back to you, taking in your outfit quickly before moving toward you, his hand outstretched in silence.

You hadn’t moved from your spot next to the painting. You hadn’t closed your mouth or peeped a single word because you couldn’t. And even though you had a feeling that it was him before the meeting ever took place, the surprise and shock you felt was overwhelming.

It was really him. It was Harry. And you couldn’t believe it was him.

You placed your hand in his to shake and the moment was eternity. Your eyes pinned together, palms warm to the touch, searching gazes, and a million little thoughts dancing around your heads. It was real. He was real. You were real. The moment was real.

But of course, as Mrs. Allen tended to do she interrupted the odd reunion and began speaking, “Please go over the details with me. I think I’d like to know a little more and then we can talk price.”

Harry’s adam’s apple bobbed as he released your hand and straightened his posture and he handed a folder to Mrs. Allen and began to go over everything she might want to know.

Your heart was racing and you were unable to listen to anything he said regarding the painting. It all sounded like gibberish to you but you could hear his smooth deep voice as he spoke, and the occasional glance in your direction had your skin sparking in delight.

“Earth to Y/n,” Mrs. Allen waved her hand in front of your face and you slowly drifted from your reverie back to reality and looked at her.

“Jesus, it’s like herding cats with you,” she pointed, “Let’s get this part ready. Open your laptop.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop, placing it on the table so you could begin the wire payment. You looked from Mrs. Allen to Harry and then back to your screen as the bank sight loaded.

Of course, you had to log in and the internet connection wasn’t as fast as you’d have liked so Mrs. Allen let out an annoyed sigh.

“Always like this with her,” she looked at Harry with her arms crossed, “Slow. Lazy–“

“Are you serious?” Harry sounded perturbed. Aghast.

You looked from him to Mrs. Allen and the look on his face matched the sound of his voice as he looked at her with disdain.

“Of course I am. You don’t know her so you have no idea what–“

“I do actually know her,” he glanced at you softening his gaze. “Don’t speak about her that way or the deal is off.”

You blinked and smiled gently as you opened up the bank wire screen.

“What? You can’t treat me like this. I’m a paying client. I will walk out of here without this painting if you dare–“

“Then leave.” He looked at her with his brows raised in a dare.

She huffed and clutched her purse, “Fine. Just… do the deal, Y/n. I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom and get some air. When I return I want this to be over with.”

She walked out of the room and slammed the door rudely and Harry stepped in front of the computer as you looked up at him, “Y/n. I can’t believe it’s you. Are you working for her?”

You stood up straight and nodded, “Yeah. It’s a disaster. I’m quitting as soon as this is over. It’s been my plan for a month.”

He smiled, “You’re quitting? Now?”

You nodded again, “Yes. As soon as this deal is complete I’m done.”

“Can I see you? Like, after this? Dinner maybe?”

You sputtered a tiny laugh. It was like music to your ears, “Okay. Why not?”

Harry grinned widely and pointed at the computer, “Let’s get this over with then. Push that payment through and let’s get out of here.”

There it was again, the blurred vision, grey and colored specs floating around you as if you were in the grey screen of a TV. You couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was only a dream. Perhaps you were about to wake up and it was all going to have been just a wild dream that you’d never recover from.

You called the bank with a smile on your face to begin the wire transfer. Everything was set as you entered the details into the account on your laptop and spoke with the representative.

But of course, there was one thing holding the whole thing up. Mrs. Allen had to be there to verbally give the go-ahead to the man on the phone. You were not authorized.

So when she came back to the room and the payment wasn’t yet completed she was furious, “How can you mess up the simplest things, Y/n?”

“All you need to do is tell the man this wire transfer from your bank to the owner’s is authorized. You’re holding this up. Not her,” Harry spoke.

She pulled the cell phone from you with a sigh and spoke into the receiver as you smiled at Harry.

“There. It’s done.” She handed the phone to you and the transaction was finalized. Emails went out to all the parties involved in the sale with the receipt and you closed your laptop.

“Good. Now, have someone wrap this so I can bring it back without getting scratched.”

Harry nodded, “I’ll have Laira get someone for you and they’ll bring it to your car.”

Mrs. Allen looked at you and snapped her fingers, “You can go wait in the car for me. No need to have you standing around and gawking like an idiot.”

You stuffed your laptop into your bag and looked at Mrs. Allen, “Delia?” You made it a point to call her by her first name, which you knew she hated, “I quit. Working for you has been hell. You’ll go home without me as I’ve already made other arrangements. Tell Mr. Allen it was lovely to work for him. I’ll send him an email explaining why I quit tomorrow. Also, the agency won’t work with you again after I share details and proof of the way you treated me.”

Her mouth dropped open and the look of surprise on her face was quite hilarious as you pushed passed her with Harry following behind you.

You felt exhilarated and your heart was pumping blood through your body and your limbs rapidly as you smiled and made your way to the front of the gallery.

Harry kept in step with you as he waved at the girl at the desk, “Please help Mrs. Allen get the painting wrapped and put into her car. I’m done for the day. Call me if you need anything.”

You felt the warm air hit your cheeks when you stepped outside into the sun with Harry behind you.

“Y/n, I’m still kind of in disbelief that you’re here. I must be dreaming,” he turned toward you with a wide grin.

“I feel the same way. Like I’m just going to wake up and it’s all been a dream.”

“Pinch me,” he put his arm out and pushed his shirt sleeve up to his forearm, displaying the tattoos on his skin.

You laughed and put your thumb and pointer over his skin and gave him a good pinch and he let out a deep breath, “Do it again.”

You couldn’t stop the small chuckle that fell from your lips as you pinched him again and he grabbed the tops of your arms tightly, “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted to talk to you so many times. I have so much to tell you.”

“Me too, Harry. There’s so much to say.”

He led you to his car and you both got inside. It felt so surreal to be climbing into Harry’s car with him, “Where would like to go eat?” He looked at you from the driver’s seat as he started up his car.

You shook your head, “I don’t know. Don’t care really.”

He nodded, “Yeah I don’t care either. Just as long as I get to go there with you. Okay, we’ll go to this spot I found some months ago. They have great crab cakes.”

When he pulled out to the street you looked at him, “New car then?”

He nodded, “Yeah. The lease came up on the other one and figured something different would be nice. I’ve had this for a few months.”

“And did you move?”

He licked his lips and glanced at you, “Yeah. Not long after you left. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. I… did a lot of thinking about what I want in life and how I want to live it. The place was too big. Not sustainable for me any longer. Too expensive.”

“Really? That’s surprising.”

He breathed out through his nose as he nodded, “I stopped dealing with stolen items. It was dumb of me to get involved in all that in the first place. I never started off being an art dealer with the idea that I would be wealthy. It began because I genuinely love the art world and discovering new pieces. I lost that somewhere along the way and you leaving like you did remind me of what was important in life. Money is not all there is.”

You were surprised to hear this. It made you wonder what else had changed.

The restaurant was a small, hip-looking spot. You had both arrived before the dinner crowd, it was still a bit early for dinner, but to you, it didn’t matter. You were with Harry again and even though you weren’t quite sure what to expect things were going better than you imagined.

You and Harry were seated at a small round table for two by a big window looking out over the parking lot. It wasn’t fancy but it felt amazing to get face to face with him after all that time.

“Y/n, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look incredible. I know I said it already but I really missed you. I hope you and I can keep in touch after this. If that’s something you wanted. It would mean so much to me to be able to see you again.”

You picked at the corner of the laminated menu that had been placed on the table in front of you and looked up at him, “Harry, I missed you a lot too. I regretted the way I ended things. Moving away and blocking you. I thought it was the right thing to do. I deleted every part of you from my life and by the time I realized it was a mistake I didn’t have your contacts anymore,” you shook your head as you looked into his eyes, “I’m sorry I did it that way. I’m sorry for walking away from you.”

Harry reached across the table and put his hand over yours, “I’m glad you did. Y/n, I don’t know if I would have had the kind of self-reflection and epiphany I did if you’d stayed. But you leaving like that made me rethink everything I thought was important. Made me realize that dealing in the black market and jet-setting all over the world to do something that goes against my very core… I hated it. I hated you leaving but it opened my eyes.”

“So you really don’t do any of that anymore?”

He shook his head, “No. Now I bounce around from gallery to gallery to view pieces and check the legitimacy, the provenance. I work for myself still but now I’m not making as much money. Which is fine!” He laughed, dimples digging into his cheeks, “It’s better this way. I sleep better knowing I’m doing things right now.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Like twenty minutes from here. Bought a regular-sized house with a garage and an ugly entryway,” he grinned, “But I love it. I love it because it makes me feel happy. It’s not so much to maintain. Had to let go of all the staff I had but other than that, I haven’t missed the income as much as I thought I would.”

You were impressed with him. You never imagined he’d stop dealing in illegal items because you knew the money was so good.

The waiter stood at your table and you both told him what you’d like to drink. A sparkling water with lemon for you, and a hot black tea for him.

“So you were working for that woman. She’s awful. How long did you stay with her?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I worked for the Allens for just over seven months. Hated every minute of it. She only got worse as time went on. I thought once she got used to me she’d lighten up be she was truly evil. Would just talk down to me and blame me for everything that went wrong.”

“Why did you stay there for so long?”

“At first I stayed hoping it would get better. You know you kind of get into a groove and can look past bullshit and then everyone starts to get used to one another. But that never happened. I tried to stick it out. But then of course I needed the money too. Well, on some level. The security of having a job is nice and the rent at my new house is a lot more than what I paid at my apartment. Figured I’d wait for the right moment. Then about a month ago I found out that Delia wanted to buy this piece of art she’d been wanting and she was going to go through a dealer and I was just about to quit. I really was but,” you shrugged and smiled as you looked down at the menu, “Though it would be funny if maybe you were the dealer,” you brought your eyes back up to him.

He squinted, his brows pulling in as he looked at you, “You continued working for them when you thought maybe I was going to be the dealer on the sale? So you could see me?”

You nodded and smiled, “I mean. Sort of. I really didn’t think it was going to be you but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just see. So I stuck it out. My plan was to quit the moment the deal was over. That’s why I was saying that at the gallery. It was like, one last thing, just to see if it was you and then I was done working for them.”

Harry laughed and pulled his lips into his mouth, shaking his head in amazement, “I can’t believe you wanted to see me. I was certain you were done and wanted nothing to do with me. I did go back to your apartment one day, maybe like two months later. But you’d already moved out. And you never responded to any of my texts or calls. Figured that was that. What made you want to see me?”

You tried not to feel bad how you ended things with him but it was hard not to, “I really did like you. It was just hard for me to admit how much. And then Brandy, my best friend, talked me into going to therapy. And honestly? Just talking about how I process things and my emotions with someone else helped me a ton. Helped me see how I self-sabotage. Anything that might make me happy, specifically romance, was a big block for me. I didn’t even realize it consciously. I think I knew I pushed people away when I didn’t need to. And I realized I did that with you.”

Harry nodded as he listened and the waiter placed your drinks down on the table before taking your orders for food.

It felt like you had so much to tell him and you could see Harry felt the same with everything he admitted to you. You loved listening to him and watching him as he spoke or the way he gazed at you as you recounted the last 9 months to him.

While so much did happen in those 9 months, you felt comfortable sitting at that small table talking to Harry about it all. Everything felt so familiar and nice with him. It felt like you were both exactly on the same page and this time around maybe you could really have something special with him. If he wanted the same thing as you.

“So you missed me? What did you miss about me?” Harry smirked at you as he took a scoop of the dessert you were both sharing.

“Hmm… I think I liked it when you were nice to me and vulnerable with me. Our late-night kitchen chats. How you took up for me with that one lady. And even today you did it again with Mrs. Allen. I think there were times when I hated you but mostly I liked you. And those things I missed.”

His smirk didn’t fall from his lips and it looked like he was holding back what he wanted to say.

“What? What’s that look?” You pointed your fork at him.

Harry laughed and looked down at the table before putting his eyes back on yours, “You didn’t miss… like my body or something?”

You laughed and grinned at him, “Oh my god, Harry,” you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I mean you have to admit, Y/n, we are very good together. Aren’t we? Like… just fit so well me and you.”

You inhaled and let your eyes trail over his features as you tried to keep the grin off your face.

“You’re insane.” You licked your lips.

“No, I’m not. You know it’s true. Tell me you’ve had better with anyone else and I’ll tell you you’re lying. You missed me but you also missed all those dirty little things I did to you.”

“You’re way too confident and cocky still,” you laughed.

“Am I?” His smile was something that always got you. The grin, the dimples, the crinkles at the edge of his eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? That I missed little Styles down there?” You sputtered a laugh.

“Little? Is that what you’d call it?” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward closer to you, “You said otherwise when–“

“Anything else for you two?” The waiter broke the tension as Harry shot his eyes up to the man.

“I think we’ll take the check. Thank you.”

You laughed as the server walked away and Harry cocked his head with that smirk still plastered on his face.

The sun was beginning to go down as the check was laid on the table and you insisted on splitting it with Harry. He grumped about you paying anything at all but you weren’t taking no for an answer.

You were surprised you’d been at the restaurant for so long. Hours had gone by but it didn’t feel that long because you two had so much to talk about. So much lost time to make up for.

“So where do you live, Y/n? Should I drop you off at home?”

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Not too far from here. Off Coalfax and the interstate. Do you want to drop me off?”

Harry’s smile softened, “I don’t want to drop you off. No. I want to continue this. I’m not ready for you to disappear again.”

Swallowing you reached your hand toward his and rubbed your fingers over his knuckles, “Then you don’t have to drop me off. Come with me. I’ll invite you in.”

Harry stood up quickly, taking your hand in his as you both walked to the exit and toward his car. You laughed as he pulled you along.

“Coalfax? Just North of here?” He spoke as he started up his car.

“Yeah. Exactly. You’ll take a right on Coalfax. I’ll tell you where to go.”

Harry kept glancing at you and the smile on his face stayed throughout the entire drive. You were sure he was feeling the kind of excitement you had bubbling in your tummy. Still not quite sure of what to expect but nearly certain of what could happen.

Maybe you were jumping in too fast but maybe… just maybe the timing was exactly right. You couldn’t tell but you weren’t going to let yourself overthink it. That wasn’t going to happen with you anymore. You already regretted too much of what had happened with Harry and this time would be different.

Harry parked his car on the street in front of your small house and you both walked up to your door, “You’ve still got the same car,” he noted.

“Yup. Runs well. No payment other than insurance. Cheap maintenance. I love the old thing. Hope I never have to get rid of it.”

Harry followed behind you through your front door and you switched on the light before you felt his hand tugging at yours.

You turned to face him and the reality of everything was clear suddenly. You’d reconnected with Harry. The one man you couldn’t stop thinking about. Couldn’t stop replaying his words to you, couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed you and took care of you.

“I can’t believe you’re standing here in my living room,” you smiled at him and Harry shook his head.

“I can’t believe I’m here either. I can’t believe I’m looking at you and that you were there today and…” he swallowed as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t want to scare you off, Y/n, but you have no idea how happy I am right now. How this all feels like destiny. Like we were meant to be here right now.”

You laughed through your nose, “I don’t really believe in stuff like that, but it doesn’t kind of feel that way, doesn’t it? Like another chance.”

He nodded, “Another chance. Exactly.”

“Do you want to sit? Or would you like some wine?”

Harry looked around the space of your living room. He hadn’t taken his surroundings in until then as he was too focused on you.

“Maybe a glass of wine. If it’s not too much trouble.”

You grinned, “Of course it’s not. Come. It’s in the kitchen.”

The light flickered on overhead as you flipped the switch and then opened your cabinet to retrieve the bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Y/n, this place is really nice. I like it.” Harry looked around as he spoke.

“I like it too. It’s why I moved here. Felt like home when I walked in to view it for the first time. It’s just a rental but it’s perfect for me.”

You placed the bottle on the counter and handed him a glass of wine.

Harry held his glass up, “Thank you for inviting me in and for humoring me with your kindness.”

You laughed, “Humoring you? Harry, I am fully genuine right now. I wanted to have dinner with you and I wanted you to come into my home. I’m not just being nice. I want you here.”

“I like hearing that.”

You both took a sip of your wine as Harry kept his eyes on you.

It was warm. Searing hot in fact. Harry was gorgeous and he was in your house and he was looking at you with those green eyes that had looked at you so many times before.

“Have you…” He paused as he placed his glass down and cleared his throat, “Have you seen anyone since? Like dated? Are you dating?”

You laughed at the way he fumbled his words. He seemed nervous suddenly, “No. I haven’t.” You placed your own glass down and suddenly felt that flutter of nerves, “And… I’m a little nervous to ask you the same.” You raised your brows at him.

He shook his head, “No.”

You nodded, “Surprised to hear that. But relieved I have to admit.”

“Why are you surprised?”

“Because I thought you’d have your pick. In fact even today when I thought there was a chance I might see you, felt like it was silly because surely you’d moved on and found someone.”

Harry’s brows stitched together, “I had a hard time feeling okay after that day when I left your apartment. Have actually never been so depressed and distraught over anyone before. I couldn’t just move on. Even when I started to feel a little better about it all. I just missed you so much. I know you blocked me on every platform out there. I got the hint when you didn’t text or call back. But I still missed you.”

You smiled, “And you’re not on social media at all. I did look but I kind of felt like if I did find you it wouldn’t have been good for me. I know I could have tried harder to reach out. I think I was a little scared of what I’d find.”

“What did you think you’d find?”

“That you were dating someone. I don’t know.”

The air shifted when Harry brought his hand up to your chin and gently gripped your face, “You’re the only woman I’ve had my mind on all these months. The only one I could ever think about. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your lips parted and you blinked your eyes as you took in his words.

“Do you understand what I mean? I don’t know if you feel the same way about me but just to know that you missed me and want me to be here with you right now means everything to me.”

“I don’t want anyone else either, Harry.”

“Does that mean you want me? I just need to hear it if it’s true, Y/n.”

You gulped and nodded, “Yeah. I do.”

The hand that held your chin released you and moved around to the back of your neck while his other hand landed on your hip and he pressed his lips to yours.

At last. At last.

You closed your eyes and drew your hands up to the back of his neck and moaned as he opened his mouth and you opened yours. Lips winding and smearing and pushing…

It felt like you were looking down at yourself, watching as you kissed Harry in your kitchen. And it was a beautiful sight. The two of you joined, grasping onto the other, hearts thrashing in your chests, bodies alight.

Harry’s grip on your side tightened, his fingers pinching around your clothes. The hand at the back of your neck squeezing and holding you in place as his lips slid against yours

You allowed yourself to be pulled in closer and moved your hand into his curls. You missed his scent. You missed his touch. His warmth. His care.

He parted from the kiss and moved his hand to your jaw, “Can we start over? This time, Y/n, you’re not going to regret it. This is it for us. Understand me?”

His words were almost a threat. Or maybe a promise. Both perhaps.

“Yes, Harry. I’m not going to regret it this time. I promise.”

He nodded, still holding you close, and then softly ghosted his lips over yours, “Because I can’t lose you again. I want this with you.”

You were gonna lose it. Everything was too much and not enough. You wanted him and you wanted to go slow but you wanted to tear his clothes off and feel him all over.

“I want you, Harry,” you breathed out against his lips as you clung to him, “I want this with you.”

You felt the vibration of his moan against your mouth as he dropped his lips to your chin and then along the curve of your jaw. When his lips pressed into the skin on your neck you gasped and hugged him tighter. His mouth drew your flesh in as he sucked a spot and then lowered to the curve of your shoulder and neck, suckling again at the skin where you knew it would be bruised.

“Fuck…” he whispered as he pressed his nose against your jaw, “Where’s your bedroom, Y/n?”

That was easy. The house was small. You led him down the hallway to your bedroom where you turned on your lamp and he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Take your clothes off.”

You were surprised by his sudden command but you didn’t want to ask questions. The only thing you wanted was him and his hands and his body…

You pulled off your top before unzipping your skirt and kicking it down your legs. Harry’s eyes were dark as he continued taking his clothes off while he watched you undress.

When you were only in your underwear and bra he pointed, “Off. All of it.”

You swallowed and did as he said. Taking your bra off first and then your panties slowly as you used your bed to keep balance.

Harry was left in only his boxer briefs as he stalked toward you like a predator. You’d seen him in action before, you’d seen him a little dominant but this was different. It was like he had something to prove.

“On the bed, Y/n.”

You gave him a curt nod and sat down before scooting back into your bed. He climbed between your legs and moved your thighs apart, “You want this right? You want me? Want us?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “Yes, Harry. I do.”

That seemed like all he needed to know before he finally placed his lips on your chubby thigh, dotting wet kisses down and toward the soft inside near to your crotch and then he switched to the other side, kissing upward gently as he looked at you and then gripped the back of your thighs to push your legs apart, switching his sight from your face to your pussy.

“Y/n I missed everything about you,” he lowered himself, putting his stomach down onto your bed as he held himself over your core, “I know I only had you twice like this but I missed your body. Your smell,” he let go of your left leg as he pressed his fingers onto your mound and slowly dragged them downward, “The way your thighs part and how your skin looks right here,” he pressed a kiss over the spot right next to your labia.

But then he pushed himself up and climbed over you releasing your leg, his hands finding your breasts, “Your perfect tits,” his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue laving over your sensitive bud and kissing over your soft skin toward your other side, lapping at your plush breasts before dragging his mouth upward to your neck, “Your skin, your voice,” hot peppered kisses up to your jaw until his mouth met yours again.

“Your mouth, this mouth,” he licked against your lips and pushed his mouth against the edge of yours and ran his nose against yours, “You. I missed you. Everything. Your heart and your laugh. I can’t do it again. I can’t go through that again.”

You felt his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you, “Don’t leave me. Not ever again.”

You shook your head and lifted a hand up to his jaw, “Never. I don’t want to, Harry. I won’t.”

He grinned dreamily at you, his eyes wandering over your features slowly before he lowered himself down your body again, pressing his shoulders to the back of your thighs, and hooked his arms underneath to keep you in place.

The moment you felt his mouth on your core you clenched your eyelids closed and sighed. It had meant so much to you to have him loving on you, touching you, needing you. And Harry was the only man who’d ever worked an orgasm out of you with his mouth.

And even then, his tongue dragging through your pussylips and up to your clit, over and over again in a teasing, slow build it had you unwinding and unfolding for him. You wanted to give yourself to him fully. And that felt so good.

It felt good to trust yourself for once. To allow yourself to trust him. You could push past your feelings of inadequacy and thinking that no one would actually want you for you. Because that was a lie. You had been lying to yourself for so long and even though you knew it was your own hangup, it was hard to get past it. Until now. Because now you weren’t going to undermine yourself anymore. You learned it was okay to question motives but that it was also okay to accept kindness and love where it was offered.

You felt as he applied open-mouthed kisses to your clit and finally began to push over it, the pressure and the slide of his tongue right where you needed him had you moaning. Had you getting his face all wet.

Harry’s mouth and tongue worked at you strategically; slow teases of a gentle lap at your bud and then a harsh suck and flick to make you shiver. Every wet drag of his muscle against your clit drew you closer to your end as you gave in to the feeling.

And just like the other times he’d eaten you out you reached down to push your fingers into his hair and arched your back into him as a signal for him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. And he seemed to understand your nonverbal cue as he dug in and continued lapping and sucking exactly like you liked.

He watched your tits wobble and your body jerk and convulse as he kept his mouth suctioned to your pussy with his tongue wagging and slicking over your puffy clit until he felt you pressing his head down further and you coughed out a loud groan when your thighs started to shake.

His moans into your pussy vibrated through to your guts and it felt like you were going to explode.

“Fuck, Harry!” You were grinding yourself into his mouth and nose as you felt your release snap and you lost control of your volume and the sound of your voice and your limbs as he held you down so he could press broad strokes of his tongue over your pussy back and forth.

Harry closed his eyes and let you use his face and mouth to grind your clit on as you orgasmed. His cock was so hard; just tasting you and hearing your gasps and pleas of need had him spinning in the clouds. It made him happy to hear how good he was making you feel.

And that’s what he wanted the most. Was to make you happy. He wanted your smiles and laughter. He wanted you to enjoy his company and to feel happy with him. He wanted your heart and your soul and everything that made you who you were because he’d already decided he’d give you everything he could. His heart was yours already.

Ever since that day you kicked him out of your apartment, he hadn’t stopped thinking about all the things he did wrong. How childish he’d been with you. He hadn’t meant to fuck up so badly but he would make sure that his old ways were in the past. Now he was yours and he would prove to you that you could trust him.

When you gently released his hair and pushed yourself up to look at him he lifted with a grin, “Felt good?” His mouth and chin were glistening with you.

You laughed and nodded as you watched him slide his underwear down his sturdy thighs and toss them onto the floor. His body was even better than before. You weren’t sure why. Maybe he’d been hitting the gym harder. Or maybe it was just that now things were different. And you were seeing him in a different light. Looking at him in a way that you never had before. But you were still focused on his strong build and dark tattoos as well. That glorious cock, bobbing and heavy was all yours. You loved the way he felt inside of you and how perfect it looked hanging between his thighs like it was.

You sat up and got to your knees to adjust yourself and laid a palm on his thigh as you looked at him and licked your lips. He understood your hint as you moved your hand up toward his cock and he looked down at your fingers before placing his hand over yours, “We’ll do that later. Plenty of time to get to all that. I just want to make love to you, Y/n.”

“But you ate me out. I should at least–“

“No. Later,” he got to his knees and pushed you gently back to your bottom, “You don’t understand. I can’t wait one more second to be inside of you. We’ll have plenty of time for that other stuff but I haven’t had sex since in 9 months. If you put your mouth anywhere near my cock it’s gonna make me come too fast. A little out of practice,” he smiled with a small laugh as you laid your back into the mattress and he settled himself between your legs, hips tucking against yours.

You could feel his rigid, girthy cock slide through your labia as he rolled his hips down and up, wetting his shaft, “Want to fuck you now. Okay?”

You moaned and nodded. It was okay by you. You knew there’d be time for blowjobs later so you didn’t mind having him inside your cunt, stuffing you to the brim like you knew he would. There was plenty of time for all that, now that you weren’t going to be running off from him again.

“Want this cock, honey?” He continued rocking his hips. Sliding himself up and down, the tip of his cock collecting your arousal and pushing it up to your clit.

“Yes, Harry. Please.” You bucked upward to catch him at your entrance but he pressed your hip down and grinned at you playfully.

“Love hearing you say please. Such a good girl for me.”

You groaned when he wouldn’t push in right away, still teasing you with the drag of his thick shaft up and down through your labia and against your clit. The sound of it was lewd. Filthy.

“Please fuck me!” You whined.

Harry paused his motions, keeping his eyes on yours as he reared back and took his base in his palm to line himself up to your hole. He kept one hand on the inside of your thigh as he began to press himself inward slowly, the snap of his bulbous head entering you and pushing through your walls was the first act of confirming everything.

Confirming that this was it. That now you were connected and there was no turning back. That all the promises spoken were sealed.

You both kept your eyes pinned on one another as he bottomed out, balls tucked against your ass with a whimper from his mouth and a deep sigh of relief.

He slowly pulled back before inching his way back into the hilt and repeated his languid strokes as your wet pussy blossomed and opened wide for his girth until he was rocking down into you with a force that had your tits bouncing and harsh breaths punching from your lungs.

Harry’s strong abs clenched as his thighs flexed, working into you, exacting strokes deep into your cunt and skin colliding every time you felt the dip of his crown nudging into your tummy.

He sat back to his haunches, knees bent with the back of your thighs draped over the top of his. He watched as he sunk into you and pulled back to his tip, his shaft glistening and coated in you before he thrust back in until you were gasping and reaching for his arms to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself of who’s cock was fucking you so good.

“Love this pussy, Y/n. You take me so well. So fucking juicy and plush,” he pounded into you, putting everything he had into it, muscles working and pushing him further and further as you bounced upward on the mattress every time he crashed into you.

“Hear that, baby?” Harry used a hand to squeeze at your tit, “Your bed squeaking, your pussy creamy and wet around me, those desperate whimpers from these pretty lips?” He pushed his hand up to your mouth, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.

You moaned in response and nodded as you stitched your brows together in bliss.

“That’s right. That’s the sound of me fucking you and we’re gonna do it again and again and again. Yeah?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

You nodded, “Fuck! Yes, Harry!” Your words were punched from your lungs as he continued railing ito you, his hips rocking against yours.

Your whole being was lit up. From your racing mind to your tingling skin and toes, the bones that kept you solid, your pumping heart, and your pussy gripping onto Harry’s fat cock as he slid into you, back and forth, bumping through your inside walls into that hard-to-reach little dip that had you breathless.

Every stroke he gave you put you closer and closer to your second orgasm. The delicious emergence and unraveling of your end made you delirious.

When he leaned himself over you he thrust down harshly, pushing your thighs wider apart, the sound gushy and slick as he drove into you. You could feel his cock sliding through your guts and his pelvis grinding against your clit making you quiver.

“Oh my god…” you panted as you reached up for his shoulders where you could feel the taught muscle keeping himself up and aligned as he fucked into you, your back digging into the mattress underneath.

“Yeah? Feels good huh? Told you we fit together perfectly. Pussy deserves to be filled and stuffed every day. Want you to feel so good, baby…”

“It’s so fucking good,” your whimpered words were shaky and breathy.

“I know baby… So good… gonna give it to you every fucking day like this. Make love to you and treat you like a queen. Be so good to you…” his strained words were breathy as he was feeling the heat with you.

His lips pressed into yours and your brain short-circuited as you fell into that hazy, floaty space of ecstasy and need. Need for Harry and his body and his heart. Need for happiness with him. The need to feel happiness with someone you could trust.

When you sucked on his tongue and he rocked into you, keeping his hips smoothe against yours you began to whine and moan as your orgasm approached.

But then Harry stopped. He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you with that evil grin you’d seen before and you gasped at the loss. You had just been on the cusp of coming.

He quickly pulled out as his own chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cock swayed and you pushed yourself up to see what was happening before he grabbed your sides and rolled you over to your tummy.

“Harry!” You yelped at the sudden maneuver and felt his palm land harshly on your bum. And then again and again. You jumped and crooned out as he issued your ass a handful of spankings to each side and then heard him moan when he kneaded into the meat of your bottom as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You suddenly felt him pushing your legs apart and fitting himself between them as he forced his hard cock back into your wet pussy, his heavy tip pushing past your small opening and you gasped at the suddenness of it all.

You moaned at the relief of finally having him tucked back inside. He slid through you smoothly, his hands holding your ass cheeks apart as he worked himself in over and over. You had your face smushed into the blankets as you sighed.

His hips rocked against your ass and you could feel him swiveling himself in every time his balls pressed into your skin, grounding himself deep through your tummy. The sounds he was making had you grinning. It felt just as good for him. He needed your body for relief. You were happy to let him get whatever he needed from you.

Slow languid strokes of his long cock, splitting you open with every thrust felt so good. It reminded you of how big he really was. How bulky and long his cock was as it disappeared inside of you and nudged its way into your depths.

“Stick your fingers over your clit, Y/n. Go on baby.”

You gurgled a moan and lifted your hips slightly to allow your right hand access to your pussy. And it was more relief. The feel of it all coming together was perfection. His fat cock taking up every inch of your insides, his tip crashing through your guts, the weight of him behind you and fucking you into the mattress, and your fingers on your clit, slipping and pressing…

Harry gave himself a moment to bask in the view of his cock spreading your vagina apart. He dragged a thumb over the spot where he was fucking into you, feeling himself move in and out, watching your pussy wrapped around him, glistening wet until he felt his balls tightening and constricting and your walls clamping down over him.

He could see your hips moving faster as you ground over your hand to get to your orgasm but then he pulled at your hand, moving your fingers away from your clit and you felt his chest against your back and his lips against the shell of your ear as he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.

It caught you off guard. The second denial of your orgasm. You angled your neck to try and turn toward him, “Harry, what?”

You felt him press his cock in hard, hips stilling against your ass, his lips pressed over your ear, “Put your fingers back on your clit but don’t move them til I say.”

In confusion, you slid your hand back to your core and he continued, “Good.”

He reared back and then thrust forward again, “Do you want to come, Y/n? Wanna come on my cock?”

You moaned a yes as you secretly slid a finger across your bud making you shiver.

“Then tell me you’re mine. Say you’re mine, Y/n, and I’ll let you come.”

You had no hesitation in telling him just that, “Harry I’m yours. I’m yours…”

“My girl. That’s right. Rub your pussy, baby. Get yourself off,” his breathy words were warm over your ear and neck as you began to slip your fingers back and forth to get you back to that spot that would have you tipping over the edge.

Then you felt Harry shift behind, his chest no longer pressed into your back as he started pounding into you, “Fucking come, baby. You’re mine now…”

You grinned in elation at his words and the way he sounded totally fucked out himself. Much like the way you were feeling. Like he was out of his mind with lust for you.

Every smack of his hips into your bum had you jolting up and you ground down into your hand, rolling your clit over whatever you could reach when you started to feel that melting, unraveling sensation. The electrical charge that made your pussy quiver and your back arch and your vision go white.

“There it is! Fuck!” Harry’s thrusts were harsh but every stroke felt like a sparking and exhilarating charge going through your body. His tip plunged into your cervix and fingers gripped your bottom harshly as you heard him choke out a loud moan.

“Gonna fill you fill you up baby… fuck… stuff you with my come…”

You could hardly hear your bed creaking and clanking as your ears began to ring and you gushed around Harry, your walls spasming and constricting around him tightly.

He moved into you, gliding in and out until finally his balls squeezed and pumped sperm through his cock directly into your wet hole. He stilled his hips as he whimpered a groan, throwing his neck back with his mouth dropped open, his cock throbbing inside of you, coating your walls with his come.

It seemed to last forever. He moaned and twitched, his body connected and pressed into yours as he drained every bit of himself into you. He pressed inward further, stuffing your pussy with his come, making sure every bit of it seeped through your cunt and soaked your insides.

He hadn’t had sex in 9 months. Jerking himself off didn’t do it like the real thing and when it was with you it was even better. The best. He hadn’t come so hard ever in his life he was certain as his body flushed in heat and his heart thudded wildly in his chest when he crumpled over your back, tucking his arms around you and kissing your neck softly.

You moaned quietly at the feel of him on your back. The post-orgasm glow was never so good before. It felt like you were in a different realm of existence, floating and glowing in bliss.

“You’re mine, Y/n?” He wanted reassurance. Which was understandable after the way you handled things the first time around. But this time was going to be different. You two were starting over again. This time with a better understanding of what the other needed, with a better understanding of yourself and what each of you needed to do to be a good partner. Things were different this time.

Harry pushed himself up and looked down at his sensitive cock still inside of you. He drew himself back and watched as his creamy come leaked from your hole and he pressed himself back inside. You felt him pumping himself in and out shallowly and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were glued to your cunt where he was fucking his come back inside of you. A natural urge he couldn’t deny.

When his eyes found yours and he finally pulled himself out, he helped you roll to your side as he laid next to you, his hand on your cheek and you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m yours, Harry. I was back then too I just didn’t realize it. Couldn’t admit it. But I’m yours.”

You both smiled at one another. His eyes were bright and clear and you could trust him. You knew you could. He made you feel so comfortable about yourself. Made you feel like you could make him happy and that he’d want to stick around for you. That he would make you happy in return.

He took your hand and pressed it harder over his chest, “I’m yours too. I was since the day I first met you. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful, Y/n. And I’m not letting go of you again.”

You grinned and pushed yourself up to his mouth to kiss him. You felt his palm slide down your side and to your bum, as he squeezed you, causing a laugh to puff out from your lips against his.

“Sorry, I love your ass. Feels so good in my hands. Just wanna bite it and stuff my face against it. Can’t help it.”

You rolled your eyes at him still grinning but when he swatted at your bottom your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. When I tell you I love your ass, I fucking mean it.” He gave you another good squeeze to emphasize his words.

So you slid your hand down to his nipple and squeezed at it, “And I love your nipples and these tits,” you laughed.

Harry’s wide grin and dimples were suddenly hidden when he nuzzled his face into your neck and you heard him inhale deeply.

The afterglow with him was something out of a romance novel. It was beautiful and precious. Almost too good to be true.

The sound of a cellphone ringing had both you and Harry lifted out of the sweet moment. He sat up, “It’s me.”

He hopped out of your bed and you watched as he crouched down to his pants where his phone was in his back pocket. His strong back flexing as he pulled it out and then stood up to answer the call.

“Hello?”

You frowned as you watched him disappear into your hallway, still nude. Turning to look at the clock on your side table you noted that it was paste 10 pm. You wondered who was calling at the late hour. Couldn’t have been work. What could be so important that he had to leave your side after he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life?

“I’ll be there! I’m booking a flight as soon as I get off the phone. Yes..”

You could hear him pacing and talking. You picked up most of what he said as you sat silently on your bed waiting for him to return and explain himself.

“I missed you too. I can’t wait to finally meet her. I know. Me too.”

You slid off your bed and pulled a t-shirt from your drawer to put it over your body as he ended the call with an I love you.

Harry walked back into your room with a huge grin, “My sister just had her baby!”

You smiled at him widely as he took three long-legged steps toward you, his cock swaying as he was still completely naked before he wrapped you in a tight hug, “Today is like the best day I’ve ever had. First you,” he kissed your cheek, “Now my sister...”

You laughed when he twirled around with you and then he let go, a sudden look of realization on his face, “Come with me to London. I want everyone to meet you!”

You blinked your eyes and stuttered your words, “Are you serious?”

He grabbed your hands, “Dead serious. Come with me. It’s not like you have to ask off for work. We can go for a couple of weeks. God, it’d be so fun, Y/n. Me and you… My mom’s going to love you.”

Your head was spinning from everything that had happened that day. From the moment Harry walked into that room at the gallery to now having him standing naked in your bedroom asking you to take a trip with him to see his family and his sister’s new baby. But, spinning or not, there was no part of you that would turn down the offer.

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to, Harry.”

He pulled you in for another hug and pressed his face into your neck, “This is going to be so good, Y/n.”

You laughed as he squeezed you tight and then his hands cupped your cheeks, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll book our flights. Yeah?”

You nodded as your cheeks burned hot when he pressed his mouth to yours again.

It was a funny thing to you. That the first time you had sex with Harry the post-orgasm afterglow was interrupted by a phone call. And this time another phone call had broken the moment too. Except things were not the same as they were then. Now you knew who Harry was. You trusted him and this time everything was going to be different.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this!! xoxo

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @theastrologie @sassamanda77 @princessaxoxo @eiffelmezarry @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @icumforbaldrry @harrrrystylesslut @straightontilmornin @elidoho @bananabk9756 @gotdrxnkonu

413 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 10 months ago

Text

ollie bearman x crawford!reader

the instagram story was subtle enough. or, at least, so you thought.

ollie didn't seem to agree.

it was a video of you in the newly bought sundress you'd decided to wear to the sprint race today; twirling around in your hotel room, the geotag of "silverstone circuit" in the top right corner. but none of this is what ollie cares about: it's the choice of background music.

they say home is where the heart is, but god i love the english. you know i love a london boy…

the poor boy nearly had a heart attack when he saw it in the paddock. he thought it was super obvious; "i love a london boy" could only mean one thing.

your relationship with ollie is still secret from everyone, including your brother, to ensure that people won't get involved in your private business. besides, once the news is out even in just the racing world, you know it will spread and get big in no time; that's the way it usually is with formula drivers. especially fan-favorites like ollie. so, for the moment, you've decided to just enjoy wherever this takes you, without caring what anyone else thinks. but now, he's scared you've blown it.

your instagram account is on private, so you aren't afraid of fans snooping around and seeing it. but still, it worries ollie; your brother follows you, and that is much worse than fans, he reckons. when you first started going out, you thought it would be natural to tell your twin brother about it, considering the fact that ollie is one of his best friends – but ollie disagreed. the whole dating your best friend's sibling-thing never went well in the movies, and that's all he had to go after.

the song echoes in his brain all morning. during the driver meeting, his pre-race briefings, even as he watches the f3 sprint. he likes my american smile like a child when our eyes meet; darling, i fancy you. all morning leading up to the race, he's distracted and can't think of anything else, though his mechanics and engineers think he's just focused on the race ahead of him. ollie needs some kind of closure, and it isn't until he spots you walking down the f2 paddock that he finds an opportunity.

it's not long before ollie is supposed to get into his car that he sees you on your way to the dams garage. the sundress you showed off in your instagram story looks even better in the real world, and he can't help but swoon at the sight of your smile lighting up the paddock just as much as the sun. he snaps out of it just in time, because when you walk past the prema garage, he swoops out and grabs your wrist, pulling you in.

"ollie-" is all you can get out because now he's pulling you along with him so fast that you can barely even keep up. you manage to nod and greet a few of the prema workers on your way – most people recognize you as jak's sister since you spent a lot of time in the paddock with them last year – but soon, ollie has managed to find you a secluded corner far in the back with no one around.

you rest one hand on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, looking up at your boyfriend with pinched eyebrows. "you..." he starts, letting out a sigh. "your story on instagram..."

"what about it?"

you weren't usually one to tease him, so he assumes you are actually sincere in your current confusion. the thought of your story may have been etched into his mind for the last few hours and the reason behind his displeasure might be totally clear in his head – but you never were one to read thoughts, which he sometimes forgets. "jak is going to know."

you don't look any less confused by now, which makes ollie feel even more impatient. "why would he know?"

"the song choice. london boy, really? it's so obvious." he pauses for a moment. "you can't do that."

his words are meant as a warning, but the smile on his lips tells a whole other story. no matter how scared he is that your brother will find out that you've been hiding this relationship from him, he can't stop himself from finding it just a bit amusing. and with the way that you're still watching him with such an innocent look and your other hand is also reaching for his shoulder, there's no way he can hold back a grin.

"sweetheart, it's one of the most popular songs out right now. in the entire world. no one will even bat an eye. plus," you tilt your head. "i'm an american girl in england, so london boy is an obvious choice."

"you could've chosen so many other songs about england, but you had to choose that one?"

the chuckle leaves your throat instantly. "you're not even a london boy, ollie."

he knows he's lost. he knows he's just worrying about nothing, he knows there's a much bigger risk that someone finds out about you being here with him in the prema garage than jak connecting the dots from just your story. but he can't give up just yet.

"i'll forgive you. but on one condition," he says, and you immediately nod at him. "give me a kiss. for good luck."

there's not even a second of hesitation before you get onto your tippy toes, reaching up to him. your lips are pressed onto his once, then twice, then thrice. you're both smiling into it, and his hands cup your cheeks, holding you close when you part for the last time.

"you know," he starts, thumbs drawing circles into your cheeks. "i fancy you."

the giggle that leaves your lips is like music to his ears. did he actually study the song? "oh, oliver," you say, trying to pull off your most british accent. "darling, i fancy you, too."

569 notes · View notes

discopaddock · 11 months ago

Text

LIAR - FELIX CATTON

PAIRING: felix catton x fem!reader

GENRE: angst, pure angst

WORDS: 1,3k

WARNINGS: death (only mentioned), heartbroken reader, abuse, alcoholism, lies, felix is stupid, toxic relationship, ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO SORRY FOR ABY MISTAKES.

Felix never understood why she never said anything about her father. He asked about him many times, but she always found a way to change a topic or acted like she didn't hear his question.

“I just don't wanna talk about it, Felix” she said as they were driving to her family house.

The girl saw that something was odd with her best friend, since he came back with Oliver from Liverpool the previous day.

“Why?” he pushed, but didn't answer for a longer moment.

“Ask my mum about it” she said finally, when he parked at the driveway. The girl didn't wait for him and left the car to open the door and step in. Felix locked the car and ran after her to see her hugging a woman, whom she looked alike.

“Hello” he said awkwardly standing in front of them.

“Ah, mama! This is Felix, been telling you about him” she announced and grabbed him by hand, so he stepped close to them.

“Nice to meet you, young man, I've heard plenty of stories about you” the woman said, smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you too” he replied and grabbed her for a hug.

“Go to the living room, kids, I'll make the tea” her mother announced and the girl took Felix to the room.

“Is that you?” he asked, pointing at the photo on the shelf, next to the books.

“Oh, yeah, it's little her” the woman said, as she entered the room. “This was taken at her first music competition” she added, making her daughter red. “She won it, I'm still so proud of her.”

“You didn't tell me you were taking part in competitions?” Felix turned around to his friend.

“You never asked,” she answered and stood up from the couch. “Then we were karting with girls” she said, while showing the photo of her at the karting track next to a kart.

“Oh, and this one is from the Grand Prix two years ago, when you were a marshall,” her mother cooed, pointing at another photo.

“I told you about that,” the girl reminded Felix, making him laugh. Yes, she had told him about it one time. “Come on, I'll show you around” she said and grabbed him by hand and took him upstairs.

“Your room?” he asked, watching her open the door.

“Yeah, welcome to my kingdom” she said and let him in.

“Yeah, it's definitely your room,” Felix laughed. He could see that she was the owner of it. The books that she's been telling him about, the film posters she told him she had watched, the Formula 1 related things - everything that was in that room was her.

“What happened yesterday?” the girl asked, when they were lying on her bed for a while. The bed was small, 90x200 centimeters and his legs were sticking out of it. He found this funny and was laughing until she asked.

“He's a, um” he started, not sure if he wanted her to know that. But she never lied to him, right? She wouldn't do that like Oliver did. She would never. “He lied to me. To all of us” he said finally.

The girl looked at Felix, not understanding what he meant. She saw how they were treating each other the previous day, but she didn't ask since he came to her room and started kissing her, banning her and himself from talking till breakfast.

“What has he done?” she asked and raised her head. She was worried about him. He was her best friend, her other half and she was really jealous of Oliver for the whole time, which Farleigh found hilarious and was making jokes about it to Felix when she wasn't around. And Farleigh liked her more, if he had to choose between her and Oliver who was better for his cousin, he would choose her without hesitation. She was normal in his opinion, not a liar like Oliver.

The girl loved Felix. She gave him her whole heart. But he didn't see it. His heart didn't belong to her, but her heart belonged to him. And it hurt her a lot.

She tried to leave him, for her own good, but she couldn't. He was so magnetic, so majestic that she just couldn't leave him.

Farleigh and her own friends saw how she felt and how Felix was blind about it. Farleigh tried, he really tried to do something but his cousin was as if he didn't have eyes and couldn't see anything about her.

Farleigh told her he felt sorry for her and that she should really leave him for her own good and that he knew it was hard, but she still couldn't. And Farleigh saw it.

Gosh, she spent the whole vacation with him and Venetia because Felix was always with Oliver and he seemed like she wasn't there until yesterday. She was his second choice and she knew it.

So she decided that it would be her last try to cut contact with him. For her own good.

“Felix, I'm not coming back to Saltburn with you” she announced, when he stopped talking about that liar.

He was shocked. Why would she say that? What has gone wrong?

“What? No, no, no, you're coming back” he replied, feeling betrayed.

“Mama said that the great-grandma is feeling worse and worse, Felix, I can't be not around her” she said the half of the truth. This was one of the two reasons she wanted to stay at home. “I can't do that to her,” she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes.

He would understand, right?

“I can drive you at any time here, I promise, just come back with me” he assured her and grabbed her face in his hands gently. “You can just leave me,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“Felix, you don't understand” she shook her head, as he made everything about himself. “I can't leave her now, I don't know how much time she has left,” she added. “You should stay for tonight and go back home tomorrow, it's getting dark” she said and he only agreed.

He didn't want to leave her, especially now.

During the night, Felix was walking through the house and looking for the water. He stood in the kitchen and saw his friend’s mother looking for something in the cabinet.

“Good evening” he mumbled and she answered. He got the water and stood for a moment. He had a battle inside if he should ask about that. And his curiosity won, so he asked: “I'm sorry for being rude, but anytime I asked your daughter about the father she never answered and recently she told me to ask you about him, so could you tell me something?”

“Oh, he was, let's say, not a good person” the woman started and sat on the chair. “I completely understand why she doesn't want to talk about him. She has some kind of trauma and she used to go to therapy, when she was younger” at these words he furrowed his brow. “He was an alcoholic and violent towards us, so you know” she stopped talking, not knowing what to add more. “Oh, and when he died it really hit her, even though she didn't talk with him for years.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through this,” he said and wanted to hug the woman. He would never have thought that something like this happened to his best friend.

“It's okay now, young man, don't worry” she said and hugged him. “She's doing great,” she assured him.

He felt so stupid. He was such a dick for her sometimes.

Now he wanted only to make it up to her.

So when he was leaving he promised the girl that he was going to do everything for her, because she deserved it.

But he broke the promise. He never had done that, because he died and left her alone, without making anything up to her.

He was such a liar.

masterlist

#discopaddock #felix catton x y/n #felix catton fanfic #felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton fluff #felix catton angst #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn angst #saltburn fluff

494 notes · View notes

falafelluva · 16 days ago

Note

Hii. Love your stories! Was thinking about maybe kenan meeting a girl and them being friends but he has a raging crush on her and just fluff and him being all shy around her.

; 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req

warnings: nothing basically?😔

author’s note: me when, this is so rushed cuz tell me why my mom randomly tells me that my neighbor (who has Alzheimer’s) lost his dog and now we have to go look for it cuz we feel bad 😔🙏

It was one of those crisp autumn evenings when the leaves turned shades of orange and gold, and the air was filled with laughter and warmth.

You were at a gathering organized by a mutual friend, a cozy get-together meant for catching up and enjoying the last of the warm weather.

The house was alive with chatter, music softly playing in the background, and the enticing aroma of food wafting from the kitchen. As you mingled with the crowd, you caught glimpses of Kenan across the room.

He was sitting on the couch, surrounded by a few friends, his easy smile lighting up his face. He had always been a part of your extended friend group, but tonight, there was something different about him.

You noticed how his laughter seemed a little more genuine, how his eyes sparkled when he caught sight of you.

You couldn’t deny that Kenan was attractive. With his tousled light but dark hair and bright eyes, he had a youthful charm that was hard to resist. But it was more than that; it was the way he carried himself—a mixture of confidence and shyness that made him even more intriguing.

There was a magnetism about him that drew you in, and you felt an undeniable pull to know him better.

After a while, you found yourself wandering over to where Kenan sat, a nervous flutter in your stomach as you approached.

“Hey, Kenan!” you greeted, flashing him a warm smile. “What are you up to?”

He looked up, his expression shifting from surprise to a wide grin. “Oh, hey. Not much, just hanging out,” he replied, his voice slightly shaky as he brushed a hand through his hair, trying to play it cool.

You could see the faint blush creeping up his cheeks, and it made your heart race a little.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, taking a seat beside him. The moment felt electric, and you couldn’t help but feel a spark of connection.

“Sure! I mean, yeah, of course!” he stammered, sounding more excited than he intended. He shifted slightly, trying to compose himself, and you couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked when he was flustered.

As the evening progressed, you both chatted about everything and anything. Kenan was funny and charming, his shy demeanor gradually melting away as he grew more comfortable around you.

You found yourself laughing at his jokes, hanging on every word he said, and it felt easy—like you had known each other for much longer than just a few casual encounters.

“So, how’s football going?” you asked, genuinely curious about his passion.

He lit up at the question, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It’s going great! We’ve been training hard, and I think the team has a good shot this season,” he replied, his excitement palpable.

“But honestly, I get super nervous before games. I just hope I can keep up my performance.”

You nodded, impressed by his dedication. “I’m sure you will. You’ve got the talent and the determination,” you encouraged, sensing his passion for the sport. “I’d love to come watch a game sometime.”

His face lit up at your words, a hint of surprise crossing his features. “Really? You’d come? That would be amazing!”

“Of course! I’d love to support you,” you replied, your heart fluttering at the thought of cheering him on from the stands.

Throughout the night, you caught Kenan stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. His friends teased him about something, and you noticed him blushing deeply, a shy smile spreading across his face whenever he met your gaze.

At one point, you excused yourself to grab a drink from the kitchen. As you poured yourself some lemonade, you heard a soft voice behind you.

“Hey, can I help you with that?”

It was Kenan, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, a hint of nervousness in his posture.

“Sure, thanks!” you said, smiling at him as he stepped closer. He grabbed a cup and filled it, the two of you standing there in comfortable silence for a moment.

The atmosphere was charged, and you could feel the tension between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“Do you… um, like it here?” he asked, breaking the silence, his eyes darting away for a moment.

“I think it’s great! I love getting to see everyone. How about you?” you replied, leaning against the counter, intrigued by his sudden shyness.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit you had come to find endearing. “It’s fun, but I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You make it better.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “Really? That’s sweet of you to say,” you said, trying to hide the smile creeping onto your face.

“I’m glad to be here too.”

As the evening wore on, you both found yourselves gravitating toward each other. Kenan was still shy, but with each shared laugh and glance, you could see him slowly opening up.

He had a warmth about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help but feel the chemistry between you grow stronger.

At one point, as the group gathered around to play a game, Kenan ended up sitting right next to you. The closeness made him fidget slightly, his knee brushing against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it made your pulse quicken.

“Hey, Kenan,” you said, nudging him playfully. “You alright? You seem a bit tense.”

He chuckled nervously, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, just, um… I don’t want to embarrass myself,” he admitted, glancing up at you.

“You won’t! Just be yourself. I promise we’re all just having fun,” you encouraged, giving him an assuring smile.

The game began, and as you all laughed and played, you found yourself stealing glances at Kenan.

He was animated when he got excited about the game, his shy exterior melting away, revealing a side of him that was fun-loving and energetic.

As the night came to an end, you felt a mix of excitement and disappointment. You had enjoyed every moment spent with him and couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special between you.

As everyone started to leave, Kenan lingered a bit longer, shuffling his feet as he glanced at you. “So, um… can I uhhh, like, get your number?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You felt a smile spread across your face. “Of course! I’d love that,” you replied, quickly giving him your phone.

He entered your number with a grin, a hint of bashfulness still hanging in the air. “I’ll text you! Maybe we can hang out… just us?” His voice was tentative, but the excitement was evident.

“I’d like that,” you said, your heart racing at the thought of spending more time with him.

With a shy smile and a wave, he finally turned to leave. You watched him go, feeling a warmth spreading in your chest, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

In the days that followed, Kenan kept his word and texted you. The first few messages were tentative, filled with a mix of casual conversations and playful banter.

Kenan would often take a moment to think before replying, and you could practically feel his shyness radiating through the screen.

He’d text you about football practice, sharing funny stories about his teammates, and you found yourself laughing at the way he described their antics.

As the days turned into weeks, you found that you were looking forward to his messages more than you expected. Each one felt like a little treasure, and you found yourself smiling at your phone whenever you saw his name pop up.

One afternoon, he sent you a message asking if you wanted to join him for a casual coffee at a café near his training ground. Your heart raced at the invitation.

“I’d love to! What time?” you replied, excitement bubbling inside you.

“Is 3 PM good? I’ll be done with practice by then🫡” he responded, his enthusiasm evident even through the text.

“Perfect! I’ll see you then!”

The rest of the day felt like it dragged on forever, but when 3 PM finally rolled around, you found yourself standing outside the café, your heart pounding with anticipation.

The crisp air was refreshing, and you could smell the rich aroma of coffee wafting through the door.

When Kenan arrived, he looked even more handsome than you remembered, dressed in a casual hoodie and joggers. His hair was slightly tousled from what you assumed to be a towel, since his hair was wet.

As soon as he spotted you, his face broke into a genuine smile, and you felt your own nerves ease.

“Hey! You made it!” he exclaimed, his voice warm and inviting as he approached you.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to match his enthusiasm.

They both stepped inside, and as you ordered your drinks, you couldn’t help but notice the way he nervously fidgeted with his phone. There was an adorable awkwardness about him that made you smile.

As you found a cozy corner table, you both settled in with your drinks. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared stories. Kenan talked about his training routines, the challenges he faced, and the excitement of being part of a professional team.

You shared your interests and passions, and it felt as if you were both peeling back the layers, revealing more of yourselves to one another.

“Honestly, it’s been tough,” he admitted, his expression turning more serious.

“There are days when I doubt myself, like, can I really do this? But then I remember why I love football so much. It’s my dream.”

You leaned in, genuinely interested. “What do you love most about it?”

He thought for a moment, a soft smile spreading across his face. “The feeling of being on the field, the adrenaline, and the closeness with my teammates. It’s like a family out there, you know?”

“I get that. It’s great that you have such passion for it,” you replied, admiring his dedication.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow through the café windows. You could see Kenan’s nervousness starting to fade away as he relaxed into the conversation, and you cherished every moment spent with him.

Eventually, as you both finished your drinks, Kenan’s demeanor shifted slightly. He looked at you with a hint of seriousness, his gaze intense. “Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice lower.

“Sure! Anything,” you encouraged, your heart racing at the sudden change in tone.

He took a deep breath, his expression vulnerable. “I really like you. Like, more than just friends. I’ve had a crush on you for a while now,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing.

Your heart soared at his words. “I like you too, Kenan. I’ve felt a connection between us since that night at the party,” you admitted, feeling a rush of warmth wash over you.

His face broke into a bright smile, relief washing over him. “Really? Wow, I wasn’t sure how you felt.”

“Yeah, I was just waiting for you to make a move,” you teased lightly, and he laughed, the tension lifting.

“Okay, good to know. Maybe we can go out on a proper date sometime?” he suggested, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I’d love that,” you replied, your heart fluttering with excitement at the prospect.

As you left the café, you walked side by side, the air around you buzzing with newfound chemistry and the promise of something special.

With each encounter, you both grew closer, transitioning from friends to something deeper. Kenan’s initial shyness gradually faded, revealing a playful and caring side that made your heart race.

He would often surprise you with little gestures—a text just to see how you were, a sudden invitation to a game, or even a sweet note slipped into your bag when you weren’t looking.

And as autumn turned into winter, the two of you found yourselves wrapped in a warm blanket of budding romance, discovering each other in the soft glow of streetlights on late-night walks and the quiet comfort of shared moments that left you both breathless.

You knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

#kenan yildiz x reader

81 notes · View notes

nocreativityfornames · 1 year ago

Text

Random Obey Me! Headcanons Part 2

During the first year of the exchange program and when MC couldn't fend for themselves yet, the only way they were allowed out of the house "alone" was with Cerberus accompanying them. And when I tell you the hellhound did an amazing job at protecting them… all it took was a slightly off-putting stare at MC for it to send back the most terrifying glare and loud growl at the demon eyeing them. These outings of theirs once resulted in a pretty infamous picture going viral, where MC was mindlessly buying ice cream at a stall while Cerberus was beside them giving off the most ominous aura as all its heads glared at someone off-screen. You can imagine all the memes that came from it.

When Satan was a baby he used to have constant nightmares about the war and would always wake up screaming and crying, waking up everyone with him. Because of this Lucifer would have to stay up at ungodly hours of the night trying everything he could to calm him down, having to rock the tiny demon in his arms for hours around the corridors till he eventually went back to sleep. At some point Diavolo suggested that he read for Satan, as it was a less energy-draining method. And although Lucifer didn't really see the point given that Satan was a baby and couldn't even understand words yet, he gave it a shot anyway. It ended up working, to both his relief and surprise.

When Mammon first realized he could both understand and tell crows what to do he thought he was going insane. And the brothers were all sure he was lying when he first told them of his ability, having to see firsthand Mammon order around an army of crows as if it was nothing. They were definitely left speechless that day.

Asmo has a podcast where he mainly talks with other famous influencers from the Devildom and demons in the fashion or music industry. All the brothers participated in an episode at some point, and so did MC, the Purgatory Hall crew, and Diavolo.

If MC has a similar clothing style to Mammon's, he'll let them have the clothes he doesn't use anymore. And there's a TON of them, since he buys so many just out of greed and never bothers wearing them more than two or three times.

A few months into the exchange program Diavolo came up with an idea to have the whole gang ( HoL, Purgatory Hall, and the Demon Lord's Castle ) meet up monthly to hang out, have dinner together, etc. It was another way he found to strengthen the bonds between everyone, and no one was allowed to miss it. In the beginning it was a chore to participate but now everyone gets excited when the end of the month starts coming around and they can meet again.

This one time when the brothers were all drunk playing stupid games together they decided that whoever ended up last would have to get an embarrassing tattoo of whatever the others chose. Belphie lost, and to this day the brothers still crack up whenever they catch a glimpse of the small tattoo on his rib that reads "baby of the family". Belphie always gets pissy about it, making them tease him even more.

( Spoilers for lesson 16 ) I went into more detail about this in another post but I believe MC also carries memories from the Celestial War because of their connection to Lilith. And this is something that brings them closer to Satan, since as mentioned before, he also has memories of that time but from Lucifer's perspective. Aka, trauma bonding ✨

Following the tattoo headcanon, Belphie definitely lied to MC about the rib tattoo at first since they didn't couldn't understand Infernal and didn't know what it said. Man 100% told them it meant something else and made up some deep story behind it to make himself look cool or whatever. But it all came crumbling down when everyone went on a trip to the beach and the brothers brought up his "adorable tattoo". He never felt so embarrassed in his life.

Ever since finding out about pride month, Asmo made it into a thing to visit the human realm every year to celebrate it by going to the biggest parade happening that year. And he always drags the brothers with him, making sure to pick outfits for Belphie, Beel, and Lucifer since none of them know how to "dress properly for pride." He just can't let what happened the first time they went happen again, with everyone at the parade wearing colorful and beautifully elaborate clothing while these 3 looked completely out of place ( Lucifer was wearing a full black suit, just so you have an idea. So yeah, he was sticking out in the crowd like crazy ).

As a joke, every time Father's Day comes up the characters go around giving Lucifer, Barbatos, and Simeon shitty gifts and wishing them "Happy Father's Day". But not Beel, who even though knows everyone's doing it for a bit, still gives them a genuine gift and a sincere smile every time. Because let's be honest, these three deserve some actual acknowledgment for raising their troublesome children-not-children. ( Fun fact: Diavolo gives Barbatos both a gag gift and an actual one, and Luke gives Simeon a gift while trying to make it seem like he's just doing it for the joke, though it's obvious he means it. )

Long ago when anime wasn't a thing yet Levi used to be obsessed with marine life. He had extensive knowledge of it and would be pulling random ocean facts out of nowhere and leaving everyone confused. And he absolutely loved sharks, like, you know those people that'll go into great detail to explain why our perception of sharks is fucked and they're actually sweethearts? Yup, that was Levi. Also, if you said your favorite animals were dolphins? Oh, you'd be seeing the most disgusted look show up on his face. ( He'd too explain that dolphins are evil and why you shouldn't like them at all, completely ruining your view of them )

Since Asmo, Beel, and Levi are represented by cold-blooded animals ( a scorpion, a fly, and a serpent ) I headcanon that they can't generate a lot of body heat and touching their skin when it's cold would feel like coming in contact with freezing ice and definitely not the move if you're looking for warmth. Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, and Belphie though? These 4 become MC's personal heaters when winter comes around, and you better bet they're demanding cuddles from all of them ( cold-blooded gang be jealous as fuck of this ).

Solomon puts weird shit on what he cooks on purpose just to fuck with everyone. His grandpa ass finds it absolutely hilarious how everyone tries to keep him away from the kitchen at all costs while simultaneously doing everything to avoid outright saying his cooking is terrible because they don't want to hurt his feelings. Because come on, how does a man who's lived this long on his own not know how to cook? He can follow strict instructions to make the weirdest potions ever but not a recipe to make a simple dinner? Nah, I don't buy it. He definitely knows how to cook and does a decent job at making food for himself when he wants to.

#omswd #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mamon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #om brothers #om purgatory hall #om demon lord's castle #om headcanons #☙ no creativity for names ✾

987 notes · View notes

ghost-bison · 2 months ago

Text

Doctor Who: 1x08 The Satan Pit (2006) / 60th anniversary special 2/3 Wild Blue Yonder (2023)

I frankly love that parallel. One scene taken out of each of the two RTD eras.

First there's the colour palettes. You can see that they're polar opposites. RTD era1 was warm all the time as talked about in this post (which I love dearly, I keep referencing it in my posts), and then we have RTD era2, which has a more modern-looking, colder palette for science fiction.

But it's also a directing choice for the mood I think, cause on the one hand, we have Rose who, we all know, would even give up on seeing her mum again if it meant she got to spend the rest of her life with the Doctor (quite like Donna back in series 4 actually, who was very prompt to say she was going to travel with Ten forever). On the other hand we have Donna in 2023 who's now got a daughter and a husband and who hadn't even planned on doing a trip with the Doctor in the first place, let alone at the edge of the universe. I mean, they were just supposed to go see Wilfred! On one side we have Ten who's slowly recovering from the trauma of the Time War and falling in love for the first time in a while and re-learning that he deserves to be loved, too. On the other side we have Fourteen who, just as Donna put it, is "staggering", and as Fifteen said, is "running on fumes". He's got FOUR regenerations worth of trauma on Ten who was already struggling as it was with one (since the Time War I mean. Maybe two if we count Nine, cause who knows what he's been through between his regeneration and meeting Rose). Fourteen went through losing Rose, Donna, Amy, Rory, River, Clara, Bill, and he went through Pandorica, billions of years imprisoned by the Time Lords in his own personal hell, finding out about the Timeless Child, etc... and now, on top of everything, he's got to deal face to face with the guilt of what he did to Donna as she's been given back to him. Anyway, it's dark, when you think about it. No wonder the colours are so much colder in Wild Blue Yonder.

Then there's the music. In The Satan Pit, the soundtrack, The Impossible Planet, has a mystical quality to it. It's slightly creepy (I mean, it IS an episode about Satan), but it's mostly mysterious. Ten and Rose are only 500 years away from home. But in Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen and Donna are 100 TRILLION YEARS away from home. The soundtrack from that scene, The Edge of Creation, isn't just mysterious, it's eerie and ethereal and perfectly encompasses what it would feel like to stand somewhere so impossibly alien it has become supernatural (if you can't tell I am obsessed with that track and episode lmao).

I love the contrast between Rose and Donna and the questions they ask. Rose's question is cute, she's like "I've seen it in films, is that it?", it stems from a place of curiosity, like she doesn't really realize the deep shit that they're in. She's just a kid. Whereas Donna's question, it stems from a place of dread: "Where's the light?". It almost has a "The Licked Hand" quality to it (if you don't know that story: the girl is scared, she puts her hand under the bed, her dog licks it. She goes into the bathroom, finds her dog dead in the tub, and written in its blood are the words 'humans can lick too').

Then, finally, there's the order in which things have been done: in The Satan Pit, Rose remarks they're "a long way from home". Ten takes a long look at her, and seeing that she seems a bit scared, he explains to her how long it would take to get home. In Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen first explains to Donna how long it would take to get home, and only THEN, he takes a long look at her, and finally Donna says "that's my family, over there". It parallels Rose's sentence in the sense that they both talk about home and how far away it is, but they use different words for it with a different meaning behind. Donna is more specific on what she'll be returning to when it's over (her family), whereas Rose, who isn't as grounded as her, just says "home" (which, for her, probably just means the place she grew up). I also love the contrast between Rose's "a long way" and Donna's "over there". The first implies foreign, the second implies close enough to see. What's interesting about this bit is Donna is further away from home than Rose is, geographically speaking. But for Rose, Home is actually the Doctor, just him, so she has no problem saying she's "a long way from home" since she doesn't mean it in the same way Donna would. So for Donna, when she says "over there", it's because the Home she's talking about is closer to her heart, and she's probably trying to reassure herself that she'll see her family again (I used to do something like that when I was in primary school, I'd travel all the way back to my house in my head to kiss my parents on the cheek because I was so homesick).

So that's that I guess

105 notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Part 24

Just a Little More Pretending

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 4295

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: The party has started, but you are adrift. Can you keep pretending with proof of your lovers' betrayal standing before you?

Author's Note: ⚫ !! IMPORTANT TW !! ⚫ We have had quite a bit of blood and pain in this story so far, but this chapter contains the use of a knife during sex. I have bracketed that section off with these symbols ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ and you won't miss the story if you skip it! There's aftercare and more smut after that section, so PLEASE DO NOT READ if self harm, knives, or blood may be triggering for you. EXTRA NOTE: This series is about villains, and was always meant to have blood and violence. I won't be able to section off everything, but I know how triggering a scene like this one can be. Please skip it, and know that you are not alone!! 💜

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Grief, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Masturbation, Blowjobs, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Pain Kink, Knifeplay, Blood Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

~~~~~~

“I don’t believe you were on the guest list, Mr. Sylvad.”

Mihawk’s cold, dangerous voice didn’t make sense. Lies. Pretend.

They sold me.

“My apologies,” Uncle Cedrick charmed. Your body turned to ice while he held your hand limply, as if he’d forgotten you were there. “Ambassador Siggins was called away for a last minute family emergency, and he was gracious enough to offer me his ticket. I’ve been looking forward to visiting with my dear niece, and meeting her esteemed employers. Perhaps we can share a nightcap after the party? I’d love to–”

“Get your fucking hands off of her.”

Some wicked part of you felt a thrill at the sight of Uncle Cedrick’s eyes going wide with fear. Your body and mind hadn’t decided on what to feel, or trust, or give a fuck about anymore, but you instinctively put yourself between your uncle, and the seemingly furious ex-warlord whose hook was inching closer to him.

“Don’t make a scene. They’ll all turn on you, and you’ll never make another berry for the rest of your lives.”

You felt the violent stillness from both of the domineering forms at your sides, but neither moved.

“Always so shrewd, niece,” Uncle winked, his breath shifting back to his confident ease. “Besides, you know I never travel without insurance. If I’m not back safe on my ship to make a certain call at a certain time, then my location will be leaked to sooo many friends. You know my friends, don’t you, smarty?”

“I know,” you breathed, voice low while you fought to swallow every horrible feeling flooding your body.

“Of course you do,” he gloated, pulling his hand away before touching your face when he glanced at the men beside you. “You were always so smart. See you inside, dear.”

“Rabbit–”

“Sweetheart–”

“Don’t cause a scene.”

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

“Was it really necessary to cause a scene? The other tavern had much better wine.”

“I didn’t cause the scene,” Shanks smirked, leaning in close while he teased. “I just beat up the asshole that did. No one messes with my friends… Besides, if you drink enough of the cheap shit, it gets the job done.”

Shanks laughed when Mihawk rolled his eyes in a very different way than he planned on making him later. He walked his fingers across the bar, but the swordsman pulled his hand away before they touched.

“Well, Red Hair,” he challenged, a tiny smirk making Shanks’ breath catch, “how many bottles will you be bringing up to the room? How many will get the job done?”

“How many can you carry,” Shanks rasped, eyes glued to that pretty mouth.

~~~

Shanks was grinning.

Mihawk was trying not to.

How many years? How many times had they ended up like this?

And how many more times would he fucking beg for it?

“Please, daddy,” Mihawk whined, “need…”

“Tell me,” Shanks chuckled, digging his nails into Mihawk’s skin while he gripped his face. “What does my slutty, little boy need, huh? You gonna be a greedy whore? Gonna beg me to do so many, filthy things to you?”

“Please–”

“Knew it, you selfish brat,” Shanks scolded, shoving the side of Mihawk’s face against the wall. “What are you gonna give Daddy in return?”

“Everything, please,” Mihawk begged. He tore off his clothes while Shanks kept his face pinned, these moments with the red haired pirate being the only times he didn’t give a fuck about where his clothes landed. “Take everything, daddy, take–”

“Such a desperate whore for me,” Shanks hummed, an evil grin on his face as he released the other man from his grip. “Tell me what you want, and I might be nice. If I think you deserve it.”

Mihawk’s eyes rolled back, the wicked promise in Shanks’ voice giving him so much pleasure and comfort, he didn’t know what to do with it. He fell to his knees, pleading.

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

“Make me bleed,” he begged, pulling a knife from his pile of pretty clothes. “Please, daddy. Take my blood, let me–”

“My little freak,” Shanks huffed a laugh, following his friend to his knees. “How would you live without me?”

“I– fuck!”

“My pretty boy,” Shanks purred, dropping the bloody knife so he could smear all that red across Mihawk’s perfect chest. “This what you needed?”

“Y-yes, p-please,” Mihawk shook, back arching while he twitched, his eyes rolling white.

“Need your daddy to hurt you?”

Mihawk was shivering, whimpering, moaning when Shanks showed off those red fingers.

“Poor thing. Let me give my little freak what he needs.”

There was nothing like this.

“Such a perfect body, and you want me to rip it to shreds?”

“Gods, yes. Pleeease.”

Shanks would never have thought to do this with a lover, but Mihawk was hypnotizing. How could he not give him what he craved when he begged and whined for it like this? When the “Marine Hunter” would debase himself, would do anything Shanks asked him to, just to feel this?

“Tell you what, selfish brat,” Shanks taunted, just starting to ghost the tip of the blade along Mihawk’s skin. “Lay down, let me watch my little pain slut jack himself off, and I’ll keep ruining this pretty chest of yours until you come.”

Shanks gave a pleased laugh, deep and dark, while Mihawk fell to the floor, his back arching as he let out a pathetic, needy moan.

“Not gonna last long, are you,” he challenged. “Prove how much you want it, whore. Don’t stop touching yourself, or you won’t get any pain at all.”

“Yes, daddy,” the swordsman breathed, getting to work.

Beautiful.

Shanks paused for just a moment, stunned again by his powerful rival turned friend. Stunned by how wickedly perfect he was. Stunned by how much he wanted him. He’d almost forget just how much every time they drifted apart again.

“Da—“

“Don’t be impatient,” Shanks purred as he teased the blade down Mihawk’s side. He hummed at the twitching, near panicked body he had so much control over. “Tell me what you are.”

“I’m your pathetic slut, daddy’s whore, your— fuuck, Shaaanks.”

Mihawk could barely see with his eyes fluttering and rolling, but he caught that look on his friend's face.

Shanks was fucking glorious, the power he exuded like sweet poison. The swordsman would never let another touch his skin with a blade, would never admit this weakness to another soul. Yet, Shanks… He was perfect. Beautiful. Strong.

And he controlled him so well.

The teasing scrape of the blade turned to unreal pleasure as it pressed into his skin. Mihawk didn’t know why he was like this. Didn’t know when it started, but he didn’t fucking care.

That sharp sting of the knife slicing down, and the heat of the blood he could feel tickling along his skin, had him coming in his hand within the same breath. He bucked and moaned as ropes and ropes of come covered his stomach, his chest, the column of his throat.

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

“You did so well,” Shanks rasped, leaning down to taste the weak whimpers and whines still lingering on those lips. “How’s my pretty boy doing?”

“I…” he tried, breathless, with the hint of tears shining in his golden eyes. “Thank you, daddy.”

“You know I’ve always got you,” Shanks promised. He breathed those words along Mihawk’s skin, trailing soft touches, and teasing nails across that magnificent, painted body to bring out more delicious sounds and shakes. “Just relax, baby. Breathe for me.”

Mihawk couldn’t understand. Couldn’t believe the pleasure that Shanks gave him. That he let Shanks give him. There was no one else he could trust. No one else he respected. No one he wanted…

“Shanks…”

The red haired pirate chuckled at Mihawk’s reaching fingers, kissing the man’s temple to soothe that tension.

“Don’t rush, bright eyes. Just feel good for me. We'll get you cleaned up in a bit, then you can show daddy how grateful you are.”

Mihawk could never admit that the weak sound that left his throat was a sob, but he stopped caring when Shanks kept touching him, kissing him, dragging nails down his skin, just enough to make him moan.

He’d never felt safer.

~~~

“Look at you.”

Clean and bandaged, with his black hair still damp from the shower, the swordsman’s breath caught at Shanks’ hushed words, at the way he watched him crawl across the small bed.

Those brown eyes were too soft. Mihawk shivered under that gaze before he found what he was looking for.

“Just like that, baby. So good for me.”

The praise made him dizzy, dizzier than the swollen cock he’d licked and teased before swallowing deep, his watery eyes still locked on the soft, brown ones above him.

“I love it when you do that,” Shanks hummed when Mihawk massaged his balls, still taking that veiny shaft down his throat, so fucking deep. “Such a good boy for daddy. I’m close, keep those lovely eyes on me.”

Mihawk moaned around his cock, and Shanks couldn’t handle the look on his friend's face. He fisted that damp, black hair, and took control, just like his swordsman needed. Fingers gripping tight, demanding, taking and taking as he shoved that pretty face up and down his cock like a beautiful toy.

“Fuck yeah. You love being daddy’s little whore, love taking everything I fucking give you, huh?”

The pleasure of the new pain sent the swordsman to blissful twitching, not caring if he choked, wanting it, wanting to be used.

“Fucking take it. Take daddy’s come, show me how much— fuckin’ hells. You feel so fucking good. Swallow it all like a good boy.”

Those soft eyes and those desperate eyes stayed connected, fighting against the instinct to thrash, to writhe, to look away. They stayed connected until Mihawk’s throat took every last drop of Shanks’ pleasure, the giving and taking between them like another spar, a dance between too-friendly rivals.

“Come here,” Shanks purred, his lovely smile making the swordsman feel the urge to frown. Instead, he moved to sit against the headboard with his friend, hoping the barkeep was still downstairs so he could book another room to sleep in.

The safety Mihawk had felt was dwindling fast, being replaced by the need to leave, to pretend he hadn’t let himself be so weak.

But he supposed a few more minutes of resting by his red haired rival wouldn’t hurt.

~~~

Shanks felt light, almost high, when Mihawk crawled up the bed to lean against him. He was staying. Staying still for once. The red haired pirate let his fingers travel along that perfect skin covered in new and old scars, taking in Mihawk’s intoxicating scent. Taking in every feeling he tried not to carry when they were apart.

“Hey, Hawk?”

“Mm, what is it,” the swordsman drawled, fighting with the exhaustion that was trying to convince him to stay.

The red haired pirate didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to risk losing his courage, so he pulled away just enough to look into those golden eyes.

“I love you.”

Mihawk thought he must have fallen asleep, but it was too real. The scent of their bodies. The sting of the wound on his chest. Those gorgeous, soft eyes.

“Please,” Mihawk laughed. The cruelty in his own voice felt like a storm he couldn’t stop, only watch as it tore through the world. “Love is boring.”

“What?”

Shanks tried to keep that lightness. To pretend he wasn’t hearing this, wasn’t watching those cold eyes go deadly.

“Don’t be boring, Shanks,” Mihawk sighed as he pulled back. The safety he’d felt was a lie, ripped away. He couldn’t think, couldn’t take in whatever that look was on his rival’s face. He just needed to leave.

To be alone. Safe.

“Hawk,” Shanks breathed, staring at the swordsman while he pulled on those fancy clothes. He brought his shaky hand to the sheets, focusing on controlling his breath, his heart, so that his friend wouldn’t hear just how fucking deep he’d wounded him. He didn’t want to feel this, just wanted to shove it down.

“See you next time, Red Hair.”

Shanks couldn’t shove it down. The door closed, and every good feeling he’d ever had seemed to rush out of the room with it. Every good feeling he’d just had in this shitty room turned tortuous as he tried not to suffocate in it. Every word, every touch, every look in those golden eyes.

“Fuck…”

The red haired pirate managed not to yell, not to destroy. He managed not to leave this inn to find another at the risk of running into his friend. He managed to finish all of those opened bottles on the floor while he tried not to choke on the painful heat in his throat.

Shanks managed to drink enough to blame his tears on the liquor, and to lie to himself that he was fine. That he would get over it.

He’s heartless. A pirate without a fucking crew. Dracule Mihawk isn’t capable of love. I should have known he couldn’t love me.

He can’t love anyone.

Those thoughts weren’t as comforting as he wanted them to be.

Mihawk’s thoughts were not as clear as he needed them to be. Not as calm, not as empty, not as safe.

The way he’d fled that room, and avoided that hurt gaze, made him fight to keep steady.

What was he thinking? Ridiculous. Idiotic. How could we even—

Not even worth entertaining. Boring.

Mihawk ran from the feelings within him just as he'd run out of that room, out of that tavern. He ran and shut the door, pretending that it meant nothing.

He stuffed every thought of it away. Every thought of those soft, brown eyes away until he forgot what it was he was truly running from.

Something that couldn’t be real, and could never be safe.

Mihawk could never risk feeling safe.

He could never risk the idiocy, or the blindness, of something as boring as love.

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

“Welcome, welcome, fine guests, to the Cross Guild’s very first gala affair,” Buggy’s voice boomed, bright and shining on that small stage while he addressed the gathered crowd. “Before our main event, we’ll enjoy a delightful dinner accompanied by the flashiest show you’ve ever seen.”

Buggy winked for the crowd, yet even though you knew it was really for you, you couldn’t feel a thing. Just the ice trailing down your spine.

“For now, please help yourselves to the hors d'oeuvres, enjoy an aperitif, and dance, before we all make too much berry on wicked things.”

Your clown was a bit more reserved than his usual shows, with a mesmerizing lightness to his movements, his body floating just slightly within his clothes. Yet he’d dialed up his dark charm, the tantalizing danger that so many of these bored, high society leeches were hungry for. Just enough to titillate, not enough to scare them away. Buggy had listened to your notes, adjusting his act just enough to still be his, yet still appeal to this privileged group. The excited buzzing of the vultures around you told you that he’d hit his mark.

Galdino nodded at you as you scanned the crowd, his eyes flicking back to watching the select group of pirates they’d deemed appropriate guests to not frighten away the potential backers.

Part of your mind was in work mode, going over every detail, deciding which asshole to shmooze first.

The rest of you was gone. Shaking. You could feel his stare.

Uncle was smirking at you over his drink. He wasn’t paying attention to the leeches at his side that were trying to bask in his glow as if the Sylvad wealth could rub off on people.

They sold me.

“Dance with me, little rabbit.”

Mihawk bowed his head a bit, those dangerous fingers reaching for yours. There were only a handful of couples on the floor, and your employers weren’t supposed to touch you.

He sold me. He’s throwing me away just to line his pockets. Never real, just pretend.

Uncle Cedrick’s charming laugh carried over the music, finally giving the other guests some attention. You could still feel his eyes.

“I’m a terrible dancer.”

“You don’t need to dance,” he smirked, taking your hand in his before leading you toward that gleaming floor. “I’ll do all the work. Just let your body listen to mine. I know you can do that, rabbit.”

Mihawk didn’t give the tease his usual force. It didn’t knock you off your feet, but it was enough to make you sigh, relaxing your shoulders just a bit.

“Breathe with me, love,” the swordsman soothed, and you couldn’t stop yourself from melting as his hypnotic voice washed over you. “No one else exists. Nothing else exists. Just our bodies, our breath, and the music. Will you believe that with me? Will you dance with me, darling?”

“Okay,” you whispered, your body shaking for him now.

Just a little more pretending.

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🔴🐊🔴~~~

Shanks was haunting the corner bar, downing his third aperitif, and trying to ignore the stares he kept getting.

Oh, yeah. I’m Red Haired Shanks.

He chuckled to himself before returning his focus to her, watching Hawk treat her like she was precious, watching him care for her, dance with her. Yet her eyes were still empty.

Y/N. It’s my fault she’s… I thought I was such a good man. So fucking egotistical—

“Red Hair,” came a gruff voice, accompanied by the thud of a golden hook onto the pretty bar top.

“Sir Crocodile,” Shanks replied, still watching her. He finally glanced over after a too-long pause, surprised to find the larger man looking almost pained. “What’s going on?”

Crocodile didn't want to do this. Didn't want to say this.

He wanted to gut this man, then suck the life out of him until all that was left was his stupid, red hair.

I don’t want to be a monster to her. Not to them.

“Will you protect them,” he choked out, forcing the painful words past his lips. It felt like admitting defeat, and his body raged against it. “Will you take care of them?”

Shanks forgot to breathe from the shock of what he thought he’d just heard.

“What—“

“If they choose you, I won’t stop them. If you swear you’ll take care of them, all of them, then I won’t stand in your way.”

…

Crocodile almost lost it, almost reached for the man’s throat. Hesitation was fucking unacceptable.

Shanks felt like he’d plummeted to the bottom of the ocean, dark, heavy thoughts drowning him in a silent death.

This monster, this villain, cares enough to let them all go.

What does that say about me?

“I swear. I’ll protect them. I’ll care for them. I’ll—“

“Good,” Crocodile snarled, holding himself back like a wild beast. Like a monster. “Y/N’s uncle crashed the party, and she won’t let us kill him yet. I’m gonna put you at his table. See what you can find out about him.”

Shanks went to stand from his stool, all those words not fully registering. He stumbled just a bit, and Crocodile let out a vicious growl.

“For fuck’s sake, are you drunk already?”

“Not even close,” Shanks sighed, steadying himself. He couldn’t seem to find his balance in this upside-down world.

“Get your shit together. If you show me you can’t protect them, then I won’t care what they want, I wont care what I want, I’ll just fucking kill you.”

“What do you want?”

Shanks stared up into that frightening face, and couldn’t understand. Couldn’t believe.

“I want them all to be safe and happy. Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

Crocodile felt like his organs were boiling with the need to end this man. To end this man that was taking what’s his. He stared down into stupid, brown eyes, grinding his teeth against his rage.

“I want the same thing.”

“Then prove it,” Crocodile spat, leaving Shanks to sway.

Buggy…

I have to tell him.

The Emperor of the Sea floated through the crowd to sneak backstage again, hoping he could figure out the next right thing to do.

Hoping he could prove it.

~~~🐊🔴🐊🔴~~~

~~~~~~

“You look absolutely enchanting tonight, love.”

“There’s no need to brag about your work.”

The tease left your lips like a miracle, and Mihawk’s eyes filled with that lovely mix of annoyance and pride that you seemed so skilled at drawing out of him.

“My vicious rabbit is always stunning, even when I don’t get my hands on her,” he teased back, still perfectly guiding your body along the dance floor. “Though I certainly enjoy the honor.”

You barely heard the satisfied hum he let out when you shivered, yet his voice was still too much. His voice was a drug, just like his eyes, his scent, and his wicked, wicked fingers.

Mihawk was pleasure, seduction, desire. The pain he added to that intoxicating mix only made you crave him more. He made you feel so many things. Hard things. Soft things. Addictive things. Your eyes fluttered as you fought to stop thinking this way about the man that sold you.

Just for daydreams. Not real.

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Perfect.

She’s perfect.

Mihawk wanted to kill every single soul in the room, just so he could hear only her. Hear only her lovely heart, beating against his. He could hear it all, but he needed more, needed her.

He needed to keep that spark in Y/N’s eyes. His breath had caught at that glimpse of her, at her brave, little tease. That attitude he ached to punish and praise, and never go a day without hearing.

Everything. Mihawk wanted everything with her.

“Little rabbit?”

“Mhm?”

The world’s greatest swordsman was bested by this strange, lovely girl. The effort, the bravery it took to keep going was almost insurmountable.

“I’m not pretending.”

Y/N stiffened at those whispered words, and his hands had to control her, carry her even more, forcing her body to follow his dance.

“Please…”

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do anything, darling. Anything to watch you. To watch how your beautiful mind works, to see you be fierce, to hold you when you’re tired.”

Mihawk felt high. He’d finally forgotten the rest of the world existed. Nothing but Y/N in his arms.

Now that he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop. When she rested her cheek against his chest for a moment, Mihawk almost fell to his knees. She breathed him in before showing him that tiny spark of her, still burning behind those beautiful eyes.

“You’re not tricking me,” Y/N questioned, her voice hesitant, wounded. It tore his insides to shreds to hear her in pain. To know that he’d been the cause. “You didn’t sell me?”

“Rabbit…”

Why didn’t I see what she was before? She believes I could… would I have?

Guilt almost stole his breath, his courage.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. There are no excuses for a villain like me,” he breathed, lost in her, needing her. “You have taken me over. The thought of losing you…”

“Mihawk?”

His name on her tongue. Lovelier than the rarest of wines. The only thing he wanted to hear.

“I don’t care what you decide, rabbit. I will follow you anywhere, if you would have me.”

The swordsman couldn’t read her. Since she’d fallen apart, Y/N had become impossible to understand, impossible to decipher, her body’s new language from some other world.

A lonely world that he needed to pull her back from.

He needed her back.

“I love you, Y/N,” Mihawk confessed. He noticed that his hands were shaking, almost losing his hold on her. A tiny moment of feeling selfish passed before he breathed her in again. “My little rabbit… I love you more than I can fathom, more and more with every moment. You have woken me up, darling.”

Mihawk tried to reach her, tried to read her, but knew that he couldn’t take from her anymore. All he could do was tell her the truth.

“Y/N, you have brought me to life.”

Her heart.

What does that rhythm mean?

“Mind if I cut in?”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

It was a miracle that your Uncle hadn’t been vaporized on the spot by the murderous glare Mihawk flung his way. His touch that had been so gentle a moment ago went rigid, your bodies gone still in the middle of that shining dancefloor.

“Come now, it’s just a dance,” Uncle Cedrick prodded, and you wondered if he understood how close to death he was.

Mihawk wanted to kill him. Truly.

He really didn’t sell me?

“It’s fine,” you soothed, pulling away from your lover that had violence radiating off of him in waves. “I’ll be fine. Please, don’t—“

“Alright, love,” he conceded, his eyes somehow even more intense as he studied your face. “I’ll listen to you.”

Mihawk placed your hand in your Uncle’s, his own hand tensing before letting you go.

“Much obliged,” Uncle Cedrick purred as your swordsman walked away, his head jerking subtly at the sound of those words.

“So, dear niece,” he smirked, pulling you into position. “Were they actually able to teach you how to dance? Or do you still require a firm, guiding hand?”

You’d fought so hard against it, knowing it would only break you down. Knowing that all it could do was destroy you.

Yet catching Mihawk’s gaze while he studied your uncle like fresh, new prey did something. You knew you should stomp it out, but the rage in those golden eyes had lit a spark. Just an ember, glowing weakly, but it was there.

Hope.

~~~~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: !!!!! I am eating, sleeping, and breathing this party 😅 I rarely do more than a vibe outline for a fic, usually just a brain dump, but I wanted this party to come together smoothly. Y'all, the OUTLINE for this party is 23 PAGES 🙃🙃🙃 Lol, get comfy (and, oh gobs, please tell me what you think so far, I've been going bonkers 🙏🏼🙏🏼)

Part 25

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

127 notes · View notes

messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 11 months ago

Text

╔═════ •┈• “I Hear You.” •┈• ═════╗

A Toge Inumaki x Fem!Deaf!Reader || Fluff + SMUT || ˚. ୭ ˚◦˚.

Contents ; Mind reading (reader has cursed hearing), Toge has PTSD, soft touches, hesitant fingering, face-riding, mind control (Toge uses his speech curse), squirting, soft dom Toge, public sex, cock-warming, and a cumshot in reader’s panties.

A/N ; Hi, so I just wanted to explain a little bit of background on this since reader’s curse might be hard to understand for some right away. But, basically, reader is partially deaf from a horrible accident involving a curse that had consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers. It left her with a cursed ability to where she can listen into someone’s thoughts for a limited amount of time at random. However, it has its drawbacks which you will see in the story. Now, that’s all! Hopefully that clarifies some confusion if there is any.

Dynamic ; Best Friends to Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Toge | Bottom!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; First

Age range ; 18+

Music Suggestion ;

{Y/N’s P.O.V :}

I sat on an oak polished bench with a heavy sigh, facing toward the buildings of Jujutsu High, hundreds of Ginkgo trees shrouding certain parts of their rooftops in a pretty spiral. The same ones lining the path that I walked on to get to our usual hang-out spot.

Their orange leaves danced around my head and landed at my black Mary Jane’s, my glossy lips quirking up into a smile at the perfect shape of the leaf before lifting my Canon camera to take a picture. As soon as my finger hovered over the snap button, it flew away.

Wind being the culprit. A shudder ran down my spine when the gust blew through my {H/C} hair and ruined another shot, making me huff in frustration.

I’ve been dealing with this annoying weather all day. Finally, the day I’m off of studying and training. Left alone to fulfill any hobbies I want for as long as I want with no one calling me on a mission to exorcise curses. And it just had to be windy.

However, I couldn’t complain. Being able to get dressed for the day, something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time— was more than exciting. There was even time for myself to do my makeup and having hours like that as a Jujutsu student would be considered lucky.

Reminding myself of him, I smiled. The memories of his horrible attempts at being on time flashed in my mind and brought a small giggle out of me. Oh, that’s right. How could I forget the example himself? For the boy I was waiting on, getting out of work was non-existent.

The feeling of a warm hand placing itself on my shoulder made me jump out of my seat, twisting around to stand in a fighting position with a little scream. When I saw the recognizable white parted hair and tired, doe eyes of Toge, I clasped both of my hands together and puckered my lips out of embarrassment.

He was quick to be apologetic, repeating the same weird ingredients he usually said over and over again, “Sujiko… Takana..?” But, by now, I somewhat understood what he meant. Takana was used as a form of asking if I was okay. Sujiko… That, I could only guess meant an expression like, ‘Oh gosh.’ Or I liked to imagine it was.

Hanging out with the cursed speech user outside of missions had benefits when it came to understanding his way of talking. Although, that was funny to mention because the way we had come about to regularly seeing each other was far from willing. Or maybe it wasn’t on my end. But, if I could take those doubts back, I would.

Thinking of that dredged up a flashback of how it all started.

•···· ‘ First Meeting Him . . . ’ ····•

My feet slipped while trying to hop onto the next stone in the middle of a river I was crossing, almost taking a tumble into the cold water before I saved myself by stretching out my arms. I regained my balance and breathed heavily, cursing underneath a couple of them.

Then I went for the fifth one, regaining momentum and skipping across each of them until I landed on my toes into the bed of pebbles near the water. Surprisingly, I had yet to cut them on a sharp object sticking through the dirt.

I turned my head from staring down at my legs and white skirt to looking at my reflection in the clear stream.

{E/C} eyes peered back at me, filled with happiness from the moment of quiet, and appreciation for the fact I didn’t have to stress my attention span on anyone. Or that’s what I thought.

Before I could get further with that thought, a headache began to form on the right side of my temple and I placed a hand up to it; worry rising as I knew what was happening when I heard ringing after the throbbing. My curse. It was coming.

I couldn’t understand how it was. A person had to be beside me in order for me to connect to their inner consciousness and they’d have to be in an extremely weak mindset which would take hours for me to perfect in battle.

So, what this was and what this meant was far beyond anything I’ve experienced with my curse. Right up until this very point.

Crouching down to my knees, I started to hold both sides of my head now. The pain and ringing worsening by the minute. I rocked back and forth to try to ease myself. Why was it so hard to connect to them? It was like they were poisoning my brain the more I tried to.

Whoever it was took me forever to process before I could hear the faint sound of mumbling, such a soft and sweet voice.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t have her knowing that I stopped to watch her… Even worse, she could think I followed,” I managed to make out what they were saying, the masculine tone rambling on and on, as if the boy had some form of hyperactivity disorder.

Thankfully, the migraine stopped once I was successful in linking. So I was able to stand up straight again. Looking around for the responsible one of my misery.

I figured I’d tell them I knew they were here to lure them out of their hiding, shouting with a lag on any words I couldn’t hear I was pronouncing right, “Who’s out there?! You can show yourself! I won’t be upset with you!” Hope I said that correctly.

The voice paused and no longer spoke a word, a silence enveloping the atmosphere and leaving me to barely confirm that they were still present by checking if my cursed energy was still being used. When I did, I called out a second time, “I promise! I won’t think anything bad of you! I can hear your thoughts! My curse is working with you as of now!”

My attempts at getting them to come out seemed futile and I was about to give up before I heard rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned my head to see who it was and to my surprise, it was that cursed first grade sorcerer. What was his name? Inumaki?

His chin was lowered but his eyes were wide and fixated on mine, like he was in shock. He was nervous from what I could tell in his body language: hesitant in his footsteps, jagged breathing, and small pupils. I could see a shake in how he walked too. Whatever it was that was scaring him about me, it was definitely due to underlying trauma.

And once I heard what he started to think about, I pieced together why, “Okaka, okaka, okaka, okaka.” He continuously repeated the Japanese word for ‘Fish Flakes’ in a panicked tone, his hand moving up to his forehead to press against it. Toge was forcing himself to not think anything because he was worried his curse would affect me.

The poor boy proceeded to break down in front of me, landing onto his knees in the grass while pulling at his hair as slips of actual words were coming into his sentences, “Okaka, I can’t, no! Stop thinking, Ikura, just Ikura! No, no, no, OKAKA!”

I could feel his torment. Having access to someone’s mind wasn’t a gift like people assume it is, this was why. You get to see what they see, feel how they feel, and physically align yourself to the point where it could be labeled as scientifically combining one’s spirit with another. That means I can see all of his past and present. I can understand every single thing Inumaki was trying to do for me in that moment. And it was to save. Save me from him. Only save me from him. That was what he was really trying to say.

There wasn’t enough time left of my ability for me to convince him to calm down and see that nothing was wrong. I was cut off before I could say a word of affirmation and from the look of dull surprise on Toge’s face, he sensed that it was over.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that look of sadness in his purple eyes when he came to the realization that everything was fine. That none of his words had hurt or done the things he had saw in his head. It’s what led me to tug his sleeve as he tried to leave.

Inumaki didn’t look at me, but he stopped. Like he was waiting for me to say what I had to say. So, I hurriedly proposed an idea I wouldn’t have blurted out had I not felt rushed, “Can I see you again?”

Admitting this now, I adored seeing that smile curving up his cheeks, as melancholy as it was. It’s what made me start to crush on the boy. He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up, his eyes squinting into crescent-shaped moons while he remarked, “Shake.”

That was the beginning of our unspoken friendship.

•···· ‘ End of Flashback. . . ’ ····•

I blinked rapidly when coming back from the small memory trip, realizing that I had been staring at Toge the entire time I was lost in it. A blush creeped onto my face, I could feel the warmth scattering my cheeks and I lifted my hands to cover it; leaving my eyes open to keep eye contact with him.

That wasn’t a smart idea. He was bound to know that I was flustered. Inumaki had such an odd increased sense of observation because of his inability to have conversations. I could see it from how he looked at me. It always felt like he was reading into my soul, gently peeping behind the curtains of my brain, and looking at the scripture of my bones whenever he held his gaze on me like he was currently.

A hum left me and I laughed it off, brushing the sleeves of my brown cardigan on my cheeks, stepping toward him, “Pardon that, it’s so cold… Do you think we could go somewhere warmer?”

Toge lingered the stare for a minute before he gave me a break and answered, “Tsuna Tsuna.” I distinctly recall that to mean, ‘Look’ in his vocabulary. Confirming it when he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer, bringing me into a hug.

At first, I thought he was trying to warm me up with his own body temperature but then I felt him taking off his jacket and that made me pull away. The stupid blush on my face wouldn’t ever go if he kept this up. I apologized and waved a hand at the action, “No, no! Thank you for the kindness.. But, you need that too.”

He continued to take it off and walked back to where he was in front of me, throwing the jacket over my shoulders and holding it there with the arm holes wide open.

I stared up at him, his face closer than before, and the details in it enough to make my face burn brighter; like a tomato. Then I slowly slid my arms through the warm piece of clothing, letting it mold into my body, giving him a small smile of comfort and gratitude.

Toge looked me up and down, holding two thumbs up with an exclamation of the word he uses for praise, “Mentaiko!” His eyes smiling at me once again.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I was lost in thought about my crush on the boy for what felt like the millionth time. Tired of stressing my feelings on it but I wasn’t able to say a word about it to him. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship that seemed so fragile by acting on something that’d be so selfish. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a friend. Someone he could finally have a connection with outside of his stressors. Not another load to bear.

Shunning myself from having anymore thoughts on the matter, I went to sitting on the bench from earlier again, Inumaki following behind and plopping down next to me.

We sat in silence and watched the scenery like I had been before, helping me calm myself so no more unnecessary romance made me avoid the white-haired boy. I closed my eyes and burrowed most of myself into the jacket to keep some heat maintained, the smell of rice and red mungbean paste wafting from it.

Glancing at Toge, I noticed that he was leaned and fixated on scribbling something on a paper resting in his lap. Seemingly to have got it from the backpack he carried here.

I watched as he jotted down the last of what he needed to write. He shoved the pencil back into one of the pockets of his bag and folded the paper up into a square; handing it to me the moment he was finished. My expression changed into a surprised stare, digging my fingers into the corners of it until I undid the folds one by one.

There was no way I would expect to see what I read on that paper, but I did. Stumbling over the words he wrote with shock.

‘Please, try to connect to me again?’

Looking over at him, my wide eyes met with his purple, calm orbs. Like he was trying to tell me it was okay. Inumaki outstretched his hand and placed it facing up on my thigh for me to hold it, peacefully smirking at me as if he was letting me know that he was ready to talk.

My breathing increased and my eyelashes fluttered, trying to process everything without getting too overjoyed, but that was really hard. He wanted to speak to me. Would I be the first person he’s talked to? Would I be the first to experience a conversation with a cursed speech user?

None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to experience the connection again and after having so much time to regain control over this cursed energy I had, I was more than prepared to pull it together.

My eyelids shut and I focused every single bit of my attention on Toge’s presence, pinpointing the exact spots of his soul and reaching out a hand to place it on his forehead. Sweeping hair out of the way for my palm.

A buzz of power vibrated through my entire arm and I could hear the sounds of almost thousands of student’s thoughts for a fraction of a second, my head spinning until a snap was heard. And then quiet. I could picture a thin white line in my head, the sound of soft, running water making me giggle. His soul was so gentle and pretty. It was exactly what I thought it would be like.

I opened my eyes to look at his handsome face once more, giving him a nod to let him know that I succeeded in the connection. My heart picking up pace and thumping against my chest as I waited to hear that voice of his.

Quiet but kind, he murmured to me, “Can you… hear this?” I eagerly nodded, a wide grin accidentally peeping from my lips as I said, “Yes! Yes, I can!” His eyebrows raised and he appeared starstruck, choking out in his mind, “You can… And nothing is happening to you? You can talk to me?”

Tears formed in the corners of his ducts out of being overwhelmed, threatening to spill while I continued to shake my head up and down, confirming the one thing he had been wanting almost his whole life.

He scoffed, thinking out loud with more confidence, “I didn’t think something like this was possible for me…” I had never heard him speak so clearly before. Last time he was so hard to hear that I had to listen to each syllable for a clue on what he was saying. Now, he spoke directly into his head.

But, pushing everything to the side, I was curious about his reasoning. Why was he suddenly okay with this? So, I asked him, “What made you want to connect?”

Toge bit his lip at the question and a random look of nervousness crossed his face, his directness failing him as he gave himself away instantly, “I was trying to ask if you would be willing to cross the boundaries of friends and into something more…?” My jaw dropped at what he just said, looking at him like he was insane before coughing a reply, “Wow! I wouldn’t have thought this was what you were going to say! Um…!”

Tilting my head to the ground, I tucked my knees together and sheepishly took the hand that he kept there from earlier. Interlocking my fingers with his and squeaking out, “I think I would really enjoy that…”

This was happening. He was confessing feelings for me I believed didn’t exist a moment ago and telling me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Holy, shit. Mind my language, but seriously! HOLY, SHIT!

Inumaki squeezed my hand and reached over to grab my chin with his other one, turning me to face him so he could get closer. Observing how I was responding to the situation with a tiny smirk. Was he being cocky? The Toge Inumaki?

He touched noses with me, asking as he barely hovered his lips on mine, “I don’t know why… but I really want to…Is it okay if I kiss you, {Y/N}?” My breath caught in my throat and I froze, responding through my own thought, “Yes.”

There was no hesitation after, our lips locking in a tight hold as he brushed his hand to the back of my neck, tugging me into him to where we were smushed against one other. A small bit of desperation in the pull, causing the both of us to stay in the kiss until we needed a break for oxygen.

I panted once apart, Toge moving his arm from holding my hand to pushing his fingers to my lower stomach, hesitating right around there. He murmured, “Can I go all the way?” Struggling from holding back by the way he was dragging down. I dug my teeth into my tongue and contemplated over the ask, secretly accepting it as soon as he mentioned it. Fuck, I felt like such a bad influence.

“Do it,” I quickly whispered into his ear, nuzzling down into the crook of his neck to hide there afterward. What were we doing? What if someone saw?

Me and Toge were exchanging kisses on an outside bench. We were cuddled up until the white-haired boy laid me down on the wooden planks, his lips dipping for my neck and sucking on parts that were exposed. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him to plant my nails deep into his back. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just overstimulated by the rushes of dopamine from every single touch he gave.

It was so soft. Even as he pushed his fingers underneath my skirt and in between my thighs, it tickled me from how delicate he was. This was weird. Who knew I would like someone touching me like this?

Inumaki hovered above my underwear once he got around to them, swallowing nervously while he confirmed with me for a second time, “I can go ahead? You want this?” He was so adorable in the way he quirked his head like a puppy as he asked, his messy hair making me want to squeal. But I refrained.

I decided to vocally express it now, “Yes, I want you to.” Hopefully that would get it through to him. His face almost innocent for that brief moment he asked right until he got the message. A darkness shading over his face before he hooked his fingers on the fabric that covered me. Pushing them to the side and making me hold my breath.

He was doing this to me. He was really going to do this with me. Out in public. My head turned to stare out at the falling leaves with a churning anxiety in my stomach now. Letting the boy above me feel the wetness between my legs with his fingertips, pushing down to my entrance and slowly sliding one third of it in.

If my grip was bad then, I couldn’t imagine how it was once he started. It felt like he was trying to tease me for the first half of it, constantly taking his fingers out, pushing an entire digit inside, then half of another, and proceed to completely abandon the whole thing. Like he was experimenting with me and figuring out which made me feel the best. Eventually, I had to plead, “Toge, Toge…! Can you please… just keep them in?” That was awfully embarrassing.

The purple-eyed boy raised his brows, gushing out an apology and pulling completely away instead, “Oh..! Sorry… You feel really.. nice. I hope this is okay…” Before he went to kiss from my neck down to my chest, all the way to my hips. Looking up at me through those white eyelashes of his as he went for it, wrapping his mouth on my sensitive bud and dipping his tongue to my entrance.

He lapped in and out of me, my legs tensing and squeezing around him on accident while he dragged me into sitting on top of his face. Peering at his eyes that stared straight up at me, the other half of him covered by my thighs and lower half. I humped a tiny bit from how good I was feeling. Unable to stop myself from getting out of hand because he was driving me nuts with his pace.

I couldn’t keep it in for longer if he kept pressing the tip of his tongue on those sweet spots inside. Or if he kept sucking on the right places. Anything. I would unwind. And I didn’t want to make a mess on him.

Without me saying a word about it, it was like he knew I was close because of how fast he got all of a sudden. Thrusting his tongue until my legs were shaking. I cried out, reaching for and tugging on his hair. Toge groaned on me, sounding like he was annoyed, “Cum already.”

Those were real. He actually said that. And I couldn’t respond to it because my first instant reaction was to scream, collapsing forward onto the arm of the bench to hold tight as I rocked my hips.

All of my juices fell out of me and anything that couldn’t be caught by him dripped down the sides of his cheeks onto the floor. I twitched and lifted myself off, my shoes thudding on the concrete as I tried to regain my balance. Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe WE did that. I was so dizzy from it, I didn’t know how I was awake. My hand reached up to rub my forehead.

Although, I had no idea that Inumaki had different plans. The sound of another command from him frightening me to my core, “Take them off.” I didn’t even know what he was telling me to take off but I went for his pants anyway, guessing that he could mean something and I would still do it despite not knowing. His ability was something else. And to say that I’m not freaked out about what he was telling me to do was an understatement.

Toge was making me hook up with him. Not like I wasn’t going to in the first place, I’m only confirming this because he was going down this route and I shamefully liked it. Well, loved it…

After taking his cargo pants off of him and resting them at his knees, he helped take off his boxers next, making me cover my eyes out of sheer inexperience. I’ve never seen one in real life. And here I was about to see Toge’s. This was my first time. He seemed to get how I was feeling because he patted my head for reassurance, cooing at me in thought, “Take your time… Sorry that I’m so eager. I hope you aren’t minding, {Y/N}..”

Oh no, I was far from minding. I snickered at myself and dropped my hands from my face, excusing my behavior, “Crap…! I don’t mean to act like a kid! I haven’t done this and it’s so nerve-wracking!” Red was covering my cheeks once again as I glanced over to see his exposed erection, becoming a flustered heaping pile of mush.

Toge huffed, “That’s why I was saying uh… those commands.. If I keep doing it, will that help?” Sounding so sexually frustrated that I was starting to feel bad for holding out. But, he was suggesting an actual solution that had been working. It made sense.

So, I agreed, “Yeah… actually.” And he cleared his throat with a squint to his eyes, quickly adjusting himself. It was crazy seeing the words really leaving his mouth, “Ride me.” That could go for what he was telling me to do as well.

Feeling my body go on autopilot, both of my legs straddled the sides of Inumaki’s hips, and I began lowering myself until his tip was prodding around my inner thigh. My hand grabbed the base once I struggled for a minute, aligning it against my entrance to ease his shaft into me.

A gasp escaped my lungs, moans cascading afterward while I shakily grabbed onto both of his shoulders, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold and guide me on him. Fucking into me as I bounced lightly. I could feel how small I was for him from his dick refusing to slide out at some points. Like my body was trying to keep him inside.

We groaned in unison, syncing with each other’s movements, my voice pitching when he brushed into a spot that he abused earlier. He memorized where it was and aimed directly for it, his eyebrows knitting together as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It was so good. He felt so good. And he had a look to his face that I would never forget.

After fifteen minutes of doing it out in the open, someone was finally about to walk past and I sensed them barely seconds before they could see us. Pretending to have fell asleep on Toge once the person arrived. His jacket placed over our lower halves.

“What’s up Inumaki? Aaaaannnnd… {Y/N}…” the sound of Maki’s voice made me internally cringe as she seemed like she was getting closer. Making me pray that she wouldn’t get any ideas about what was going on. If she found out, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He gave his usual greeting, “Konbu..” Playing it off surprisingly well with the tone of his speech, no stutters whatsoever. Even though I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me and that was not helping my case in fighting against the demand he gave.

I tried to steady my breathing into the soft breaths like I do when I’m about to fall asleep, panicking in my mind, forgetting that Toge can hear, “I want to so badly.! I need to! I need to!” In my defense, I really couldn’t help it. He told me to do it in cursed speech. Every part of my body was screaming at me to, pain coursing through my skin when I denied the action.

Maki’s voice lowered, sounding like she was getting suspicious which terrified me, “What is she doing lying on you like that, Inumaki?” But, I couldn’t think of anything from the burn of the speech curse and it seemed like he knew that. Because even as she was right there and asking him, he began to subtly roll his hips into me, helping relieve it.

The way he said the ingredients in response were getting a bit butchered, “Nntsuna m-mayo..” And his swear word kept slipping when he pushed himself deeper into me, “Ikura…” I held my breath as I tried not to make a single noise. Too hard. Way too hard. This was such a dangerous game to play. But, why did I love it so much?

It seemed like Maki knew something was up from the way she responded, although she didn’t know what, “Ooookay… Well, I’m not going to get any information out of you any time soon.” Keeping it at that, I could make out her energy walking away from us to the other side. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I arched back into a sitting position on him, spreading my legs so he could move more freely. We were right back into it with our lust at an all time high.

Toge did most of the work when it came to it, but he didn’t seem to care. His dedication in making me feel amazing nothing short. Fingers slipping down to play with my bud after I became labored in my moans, edging me closer and closer into cumming again. My walls tightened around him before more of my liquids rushed out onto his lap, becoming a huge mess.

I wanted to apologize for ruining the bottom half of his shirt, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, continuously ramming into me until he was approaching his own end. There were several actual curses from him inside of his head as he neared it, no longer those innocent food items he loved, “Fuck.. How does it feel so.. tight? Fuck, that feels too good..! Y/N}… I think I’m going to… I need to..!”

Then he pulled out at the very last moment to cum around my lower back, most of it landing on my underwear and sabotaging them like I had with his clothing.

I was exhausted, both of us panting and taking a break by resting on the bench. Pulling up my panties as dirty as that was. I liked to think it was like a finishing touch. I gave him a small peck on the cheek, muttering weakly, “I like you… Toge…” Too shy to say the word ‘Love’ despite what we did just now.

Using the last of my strength, I kept up the connection of our brains to hear him reply back, not hearing a hesitation to his voice in the slightest, “I love you, {Y/N}.” Then I passed out on him quickly after, ironically fulfilling what we feigned earlier.

#jjk smut #smut #smut prompts #jjk toge #jjk toge inumaki #jjk x fem!reader #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #toge inumaki x reader smut #toge inumaki fluff #fluff #toge inumaki x fem!reader #reader has a hearing curse #deaf reader

359 notes · View notes

lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago

Note

Batkids x male reader, were the reader was Bruce's best friend but due to some bad blood they kinda hate each other, but still look out for each other. Now what about Bruce having to go on a mission with the justice league, and lets just say Alfred is on vacation and Bruce just takes the extra step and let's the kids stay at the reader's place, because he knows they're safe with him. While the reader hates Bruce, he loves his nephews and he takes great care of them. Bruce eventually returns and the kid's are obs with their uncle, so now Bruce has to visit the reader more often and maybe they repair their friendship??

Why did I imagine (Y/N) as the uncle who always has a wine glass in his hands? And as an uncle who has the dirt on their father? And as an uncle who travelled the world and has so many stories to tell? Okay, I have to stop.

Summary: Bruce and (Y/N) don't like one another, but they trust one another. Bruce is forced to drop of his boys at his house.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst with Dick, but nothing too serious, the reason for the hatred is not specified, wine uncle, (Y/N) is the funny uncle?, author has no clue...

Bruce didn't know how he ended up in this situation. He rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. He had a very important mission with the Justice League, one mission that could really damage the League of Light. The boys weren't going, only the Justice League members due to the importance of the mission. Alfred was going on a well deserved vacation.

The only person that he trusted was (Y/N), but they... They had a complicated history with one another. They had some bad blood, well, they still do and they have a hatred/trusting relationship. Bruce trusted him enough to tell him his secret identity and (Y/N) was going to take it to the grave. (Y/N) also knew some people in the Gotham crime scene so he helped Bruce out with some cases.

Bruce blinked a few times before looking at his phone. If he was going to ask (Y/N) to do this, he needed to do this in person. Was this a good idea? (Y/N) loved his nephews, there was no doubt about that. (Y/N) would never direct the hate at the people that didn't have anything to do with it.

And more importantly, their safety was (Y/N)'s priority. Bruce sighed, looking for (Y/N)'s contact. He pressed the button and put the phone next to his ear. It was always weird to call him like this.

" Well Bruce, to what do I owe the pleasure to? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce could hear rock music in the background.

" We need to meet tomorrow in our bar. " Bruce started. They picked a nice bar, a neutral zone for them to meet up whenever they needed to talk. It also meant that the meetings were urgent.

" What's wrong? Did something happened to the boys? " (Y/N) asked, the relaxed and unbothered mood gone, worry and anxiety coming through.

" Nothing happened to them, but I have to ask you something about them. And trust me, I can't ask that over the phone. " Bruce said, looking at the time. He was going to have to go down for dinner.

" Alright, around this time then? " (Y/N) proposed and Bruce confirmed. " Alright Bruce, see you then. " (Y/N) hanged up and put the phone down. He sighed once more as he made his way downstairs. This was going to be a fun meeting.

Bruce waited for (Y/N) in the bar. He sat down at a booth, ordering himself some whiskey and some wine for (Y/N). Cabernet Sauvignon was (Y/N)'s favorite wine. He tapped his fingers against his glass, looking at the bar doors.

He relaxed when he saw (Y/N) entering. He was wearing his long black coat, with a scarf around his neck. Bruce leaned back when (Y/N) sat down across from his, taking his coat and scarf off and put it next to him.

" Alright, what is going on? " (Y/N) asked, taking his glass of wine. He took a sip, smirking at Bruce. " Something big if you ordered my favorite wine. " (Y/N) added, twirling the wine in the glass.

" It is. I have to go on a mission with the League. It's important and I will be gone for a while. And Alfred is going on vacation. " Bruce started, watching (Y/N)'s reaction. So far so good.

" And I was wondering if they could stay with you. " Bruce finished, watching as (Y/N) face turned into pure confusion.

" Wait. You want them to stay with me? " (Y/N) asked, watching as Bruce's face fell a little bit, " Don't get me wrong, I love those four, but are you sure? "

" (Y/N), I know we hate each other, but I know you love the boys. And they will be safe with you. " Bruce explained, taking another sip of his whiskey.

" Wow. I'm not sure whether or not to feel honored. " (Y/N) joked, taking a sip of his wine.

" Despite the bad blood, we do look out for one another. " Bruce said, raising his glass. (Y/N) raised his and they silently toasted to one another.

" Now, I need to talk to you about their schedules. " Bruce said, making (Y/N) groan. " Did you really think it was going to be easy? " Bruce teased.

" Just tell me. " (Y/N) said and Bruce started to explain everything.

The boys were rather confused as to why they had to stay with (Y/N). They didn't mind it per say, but they couldn't understand how they couldn't stay home alone. They were driving to (Y/N)'s building, boys packed up.

" Okay, don't break anything and be nice to (Y/N). I don't want to get back with him not wanting to babysit you. " Bruce threatened, stopping the car at the parking lot.

" B, we are too talented for that. We can be civil. " Jason defended them, making Bruce scoff.

" Please. " Bruce said, helping them take their luggage.

" Father, what does (Y/N) do for a living? " Damian asked, pressing a button to get the elevator to the lobby.

" I don't know. And I don't want to know. " Bruce said, ushering the boys into the elevator.

" Do we have to share the rooms? " Dick asked. Bruce pressed the button for the top floor.

" You can ask (Y/N) when we get up there. " Bruce said, looking at the numbers lighting up.

The boys looked at one another. This was going to get interesting. They stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall to knock, but (Y/N) opened the door before.

" Oh my sweet nephews! Come here! " (Y/N) said, hugging each one and then ushering them inside. " Bruce, help me with the luggage. " (Y/N) said, taking it from Bruce and leading him to the two rooms that he has prepared. After putting them in the rooms, they went to the living room.

Damian was looking at the blades on the wall, Jason looked at the cabinet filled with old guns.

" Okay, guys. Don't break anything, don't touch anything you are not supposed to, listen to your uncle and don't fight. " Bruce said, checking the time on his phone.

" Bruce, the boys are going to be fine. You don't have to worry about them. " (Y/N) waived him off, ushering him out.

" Alright then, see you soon. " Bruce said to his boys before leaving the apartment.

Once Bruce was out the door, (Y/N) turned to the four boys. " Alright you four, I have 2 rules. First one is, don't touch my weapons, both guns and blades. They are my babies. Second one is don't touch my wine bar. Other than that, you four are free to roam. " (Y/N) finished, but a moment later he snapped his fingers as he remembered something. " Oh yeah, you will have to share rooms. So, that will be it." (Y/N) said, moving to the kitchen. It was time for dinner and tonight was pizza.

" I hope you like pizza because I was too lazy to cook something more sophisticated today. " (Y/N) finished, opening the oven to check the state of the pizza.

They all liked pizza of course. They all sat down at the table where all the plates were laid out.

" Just a minute more and the pizza will be perfect. " (Y/N) announced to the four boys.

(Y/N) never had to wake up this early. It was something he wasn't used to, but he promised to Bruce that he would have to take care of the boys. He was making some pancakes and some bacon. After 10 minutes the boys shuffled out of the room. Well, only 3 out of 4.

" Guys, where is Damian? " (Y/N) asked, knowing that he was always on time and that he never overslept.

" I tried to wake him up, but he just wouldn't get up. " Dick said, rubbing his eyes to wake up.

" I will check on him. " (Y/N) said, walking to Dick's and Damian's room. He opened the door to see Damian in a fetal position, eyes closed. (Y/N) walked to the bed, shaking Damian's shoulder.

" Dames? You need to wake up. " (Y/N) said, making Damian wince. That confused (Y/N) and he opted to put the back of his hand on Damian's forehead. Damian was burning.

" Oh shit, Dames. Let me get you some tea. " (Y/N) whispered, going to the closet to add another blanket on Damian. After, he quickly walked back to the living room/ kitchen.

" Damian has a fever. " (Y/N) announced to the boys, who were shocked to hear it. He was fine last night. (Y/N) rummaged through the cabinets for Damian's favorite green tea.

" So what is the plan? " Jason asked, putting some bacon in his mouth.

" I will drop you 3 off. Then, I have to make sure that Damian is hydrated. " (Y/N) said. That's what he did when he was sick. You have to drink tea and fluids.

Everyone nodded and continued eating. After finding the tea, he put a kettle filled with water on the stove.

" Eat up, we are going in 15 minutes. " (Y/N) said, going back to his room to change. After a quick change, he was back in the kitchen, pouring some coffee from his coffee machine to his mug. He chugged the coffee quickly.

" I don't even think that Tim chugs coffee like that. " Jason noted, making Tim roll his eyes.

" Well Jay, I never have to wake up this early. " (Y/N) explained to Jason who just raised his hands up in surrender. (Y/N) turned to look at the kettle who started screaming as (Y/N) would say.

He took a mug from the cabinet and poured the water in it then putting a tea bag in the hot water. He watched the green fill the water. He took the mug and went to Damian's room. He put it on the Damian's nightstand.

" Dames, I know you can hear me. I put your favorite tea on the nightstand. I will drop your brothers off at school and then come back. Try to drink some. " (Y/N) whispered to Damian who blinked a few times before nodding. (Y/N) made sure that Damian was tucked in before leaving the room once more.

" Alright kiddos. Get ready because we are going to be late. " (Y/N) said, poking his head in.

" How much are you going to walk? " Jason joked and (Y/N) sighed.

" I have nothing to do after dropping you three off. Then I have to make sure that Damian is okay when Bruce comes back. " (Y/N) said.

(Y/N) watched as Damian slept peacefully. After giving him some pills to help him with the fever and steaming the room so that he could breathe normally, he went back to the living room where Jason was looking at the firearms he had.

" This Winchester is gorgeous. " Jason said, pointing at the original from the 1860s.

" Oh trust me, I know. I had to battle a Texan for it. " (Y/N) said, pouring himself the wine.

" I beg you pardon? " Jason asked, letting out a breathy chuckle.

" Since when are you so posh? " (Y/N) retorted, moving to sit at the couch.

" Since now. I want to know the story. " Jason stated, plopping down next to (Y/N) on the couch.

" Alright. I was looking for this particular Winchester. I traced the owner and asked what he was going to sell it for. He said no price since it's one of the earlier models. But however, he challenged me to bull riding. " (Y/N) paused, taking a sip. Jason's mouth dropped a little bit.

" And then? "

" I would like to say that I have never rode a bull. But I really wanted to get the rifle. So I accepted. I rode a lot of mechanical bulls though, but it's not the same as the real thing. How I held on, I don't know. But it was worth it. " (Y/N) noted, smiling at the memory. Texans are cool.

" Holy shit. " Jason said, eyes looking at the gun case.

" I know. All the pain was worth it. "

Damian got better after a day by some miracle. He observed the blades that were on display. He could note that they were very well cared for.

" Uncle, can you tell me where you got them? " Damian asked, turning his head a little. (Y/N) was in the kitchen, making some dinner.

" Back when I finished college, I travelled a lot. I ended up in the Middle East. There was this man who wanted to sell me some awful version of the blades. So, I managed to trick him and got him give me the real ones. Then he tried to kill me. " (Y/N) finished, tasting the sauce. He smacked his lips, tasting the sauce.

Damian nodded, not saying anything. It doesn't phase him when it comes to (Y/N).

" I can see that you take good care of them. " Damian noted, making (Y/N) smile.

" When you say that Dames, that is the biggest praise in the world. " (Y/N) said. " Are feeling okay? " (Y/N) asked.

" I feel okay. "

" Let me know if you start feeling like you are going get sick. "

Damian nodded, turning his head back to observe the beautiful blades.

" (Y/N), I need help. " Tim said, walking to the kitchen island with a laptop in his hands. (Y/N) was working on his own laptop in the kitchen. He looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose.

" What's up kiddo? " (Y/N) asked, looking up from his own laptop.

" I need to find this man. But I can't. " Tim said, showing him the screen. (Y/N) recognized the man instantly. He is also looking for him, alongside a few Gotham rouges.

" Bruce told me you aren't allowed to go on patrol. " (Y/N) remembered.

" I won't go, I was going to call it in to GCPD. Anonymously, of course." Tim added the last part.

" Hmm. Let me call in a few favors. Did you do your homework? " (Y/N) asked, reaching for his phone.

" A few favors? " Tim asked, tilting his head.

" Yes. I have a few friends who control the information. And my God, though they owe. " (Y/N) joked, taking his his glasses off and putting them next to the laptop.

" And Bruce knows about that? " Tim asked, clearly shocked. He knew that his uncle was sketchy, but this is something else.

" He does. When he says we have a lead, there is a 70% chance that the lead came from me. " (Y/N) said, dialing the number for the burner phone of his friend.

" Okay... I'm going to go back to my room. " Tim said, taking his laptop back, shaking his head. (Y/N) chuckled quietly, waiting for his friends to pick up.

Dick sighed as he went through the channel on the TV. He was getting bored from not going on patrol. It was so weird how they slept at normal times. It is the weirdest thing ever.

But that isn't the only reason why he was so bored. There is a lot on his mind about Bruce. Is he okay? Did the mission go well? Why didn't they go? They could have said that they went on vacation, on a longer one.

Did Bruce think that they weren't good enough?

" Alright Dick. You have been moping around all day. I can see that your head is full. And before you say anything, I won't tell anything to Bruce. And also, I won't judge. This is a no judgement zone. " (Y/N) said to Dick, offering Dick some hot chocolate.

Dick took the mug with a sad smile, taking a sip of the warm beverage.

" I just think that Bruce doesn't think we are good enough. Like, he takes on a lot when he has us, ready to go, ready to help him. We could have helped him with the mission. " Dick opened up, tapping his finger against the mug.

(Y/N) smiled softly, moving closer to Dick. He put his arm around his shoulders to bring him closer.

" Dick, let me tell you something. You four are the most important people to Bruce. He loves you four more than anything else in the world. And whenever we meet, he always talks about the achievements you guys have. And there is this gleam and proud look in his eyes. " (Y/N) said, hugging Dick from the side.

" Really? "

" Trust me, he is always proud of you guys and none of our meetings go without mentioning you guys. And he is also protective of you guys. When you guys got injured, he blamed himself. " (Y/N) answered the question.

" That's nice to hear. Thanks. " Dick thanked, leaning back on (Y/N).

" No problem. " (Y/N) said, rubbing his hand up and down his arm.

Bruce was finally back home, in his city. He missed it a lot, but he missed his sons more. He was walking down the familiar hallway, knocking on the door. The door was opened by (Y/N). He nodded at Bruce in greeting and Bruce nodded back.

Before could Bruce say hello, his sons jumped, excited out of their minds. They were all talking at the same time and Bruce couldn't understand anything.

" One at the time. " Bruce said after they paused for breath.

" (Y/N) is so cool Bruce! He needs to come over more and vice versa! " Dick said, buzzing with excitement.

Bruce didn't know what to say to that. He didn't really want to spend more time with (Y/N). Did he miss (Y/N) as a friend? Yes. But did he think that they could repair their friendship? No.

" Wait for me in the hall guys. " Bruce said, looking at (Y/N). The boys shuffled out of the living room into the building hall.

" Thank you. " Bruce said to (Y/N) who gave him a tight smile in return.

" No problem. When it comes to them, I will drop everything. " (Y/N) said, looking at the apartment door.

" Do you think that our relationship is repairable? " Bruce asked, crossing his arms.

" I think so. We are much alike. We don't really like emotions that much. "

" So... How about you come to the manor this weekend? We are having a celebration for this mission. " Bruce proposed.

" Only if you have wine. "

" Cabernet Sauvignon, I know. I have some that are sleeping in my wine cellar. " Bruce joked. (Y/N) chucked quietly in return.

" So there is a chance? " Bruce hoped. (Y/N) also missed Bruce as a friend. But bad blood was holding them both back.

" I think there is. "

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #batkids #red robin x male reader #nightwing x male reader

540 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 10 months ago

Text

Just Pretend-Twenty One

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: This entire chapter will be in Angel's POV! Hence the gif! Now before any of y'all ask, no! This isn't a love triangle chapter. Its about a girl who meets someone that has gone through the same thing she has and they have a moment together where they help each other over come those evil parts of their pasts (Platonically) Two people finding their "friendship" soulmates, if ya will.

FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.

We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic @collapsedglasshouses

READER

I sat on my bed with the notebook perched on my lap with papers and discarded pens all over my bedroom. Salem curled up on my pillow next to me, his purring an eerily calm background noise as it combined with the scratching of my pen on paper.

“I know it’s colder where I’m at,” I muttered in a soft tune.

Ew, no not that.

I scratched through the words with such force it ripped through the paper.

“Fuck,” I cursed while tossing the book onto the floor then rubbed ink-stained hands over my face.

I went through four different pens by now and changed the paper from my spiral notebook to printer paper. I had been held up in my room all night writing, not wanting to be bothered. With our tour starting in a few days, we needed to leave tomorrow which meant I spent most of my day and afternoon packing and getting things in order.

For the last few days, Hollow Souls had been working tirelessly to practice our setlist and make sure all of our visuals were spot on. It was our first tour of just the three of us and my nerves were taking over every aspect of my life. I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I was about to spend the next two weeks with my favorite artist.

nothing, nowhere.

Joe’s music had been a huge part of my healing process for years so when he reached out with the idea of opening up for Hollow Souls, immediately we agreed. Even though the nerves were still there, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I couldn’t count how many times I picked up my phone, wanting to text Noah, but always backed out. I told him I needed some time, truthfully I think I needed it to remind myself I could be my own person and succeed with this band for a little while.

Maybe I needed to prove to myself that I was able to take the lead of this band without anyone pointing the finger, thinking it was someone else behind the curtain. There wasn’t someone else. It was me.

My heart began to stutter in my chest, blood running cold, so I took a deep breath while counting to four; exactly like Dr. Poulos told me to do. Soon, I felt heat spread within me as the image of Noah danced behind my eyelids. I missed him and yearned for his presence. My stomach was in knots since the second I left his house a few days ago.

“I know it’s warmer where you are,” my eyes snapped open as the words fell from my lips.

Fuck, that's good.

We confessed, we told the truth. A weight was lifted off me. Noah loves me.

He fucking loves me back.

“I know it’s warmer where you are, and it’s safer by your side,” I sang while quickly writing it down on a fresh piece of paper. “Right now I can’t be what you want, just give it time.”

I began to ache at times, my stomach was sore, and my head would pound. It was often like this that I began to think I’d caught a cold. I wasn’t- it was just me feeling empty. I knew whatever this moment of self-reflection was, it was worth it. I love Noah and he loved me back.

We’d be together; soon. I had to believe that. I knew in my gut. I trusted it but I hope he trusted me.

“Cause if you and I can make it through the night,” my voice was loud now as I felt comfortable with how the lyrics were now pouring out of me.

But there was this nagging feeling inside of me that I couldn't ignore. We last texted each other at 10 p.m. that night saying we loved each other. The invisible string that always seemed to connect us was urging me to text him. This was something else I couldn’t ignore.

It was important to me that with this new love, the love for Noah, we have made the effort to fully heal first so we do the inner work that is required to become a whole person once more. All born into our era, our family, our body. We can only be ourselves and accountable for ourselves. He needed to know I loved him, and that I’d come to him.

Was it selfish of me to walk away after we confessed our love? I wasn’t sure. I just knew it was important for us both to grow from our experiences. So be that rare kind of true love and this bond will be eternal. That I promise him.

With a deep breath, I shifted my attention to my phone and decided to send the message before I doubted myself again.

Me: I love you, mochi.

Before I could even set my phone down, it buzzed in my hand with a new message.

Mochi 🍡: I love you, angel.

The crushing weight that I felt gripping around my heart lifted as I read Noah’s message over and over again. Although we were apart for the time being, we would be alright because we loved each other. I lay here in deep thought and my mind wandered back to my primal need for intimacy. There is that feeling of maturity, the admittance of being in love with Noah. It arrived without fanfare. Our souls were humble travelers and I could feel the bruise begin to form on my shoulder, so desperate to feel him again.

Salem rubbed his head against my arm and I brought him into my chest, peppering his face in kisses.

“We can meet in the middle, body and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight,” I muttered to myself.

Noah and I have a long road together, and it’s one I wanted to last.

A knock sounded on my door before it opened slowly, Chase's stern smile on his lips.

Uh oh.

He leaned against the door frame. "Sweets, I love you. You know I do. But you're fucking killing me with the paint on the carpet in the dining room."

I knew it.

"I'm sorry! I know, I know.” I nodded with a long sigh. “It's just the lighting in my bedroom sucks compared to the light in the dining room. I'll put down a drop next time."

Malcolm came into my room, laying a kiss on Chase’s cheek before falling onto the end of my bed somehow missing the mess I created with my writing.

“Don’t be so hard on her, Chase,” Malcolm said before motioning to my bed. “How’s the writing going?”

I shrugged. “It’s going, I guess. I think my mind is so preoccupied with the next few weeks that it’s hard to focus.”

“Excited?” Chase questioned.

“Excited?” I scoffed. “I’m fucking ecstatic. In less than twenty-four hours I’m going to meet one of my idols and tour with him for two weeks.”

Malcolm spoke next. “Feeling confident with the setlist?”

“Yeah! I think we’ve got a good amount of songs and I’m stoked to perform Eyelids live. I think it will be a great way to tease the new album.”

I’d been very apprehensive to put one of the newer songs on the set list only because some fans weren’t supportive of Eyelids or St. Patrick when they first came out. But Hollow Souls were evolving into a new era and we couldn’t continue to be stuck in the past.

“Ethan said the bus will be here to pick us up by noon tomorrow,” Chase informed. “Are you all packed and ready?”

I pointed to the three suitcases at the other end of my room but as Salem jumped off my lap to go lay with Malcolm, I realized something important.

"Oh, shit. I forgot to see if someone can take care of Salem,” I chastised myself.

I didn’t miss the glance the two of them shared and raised a brow as Malcolm spoke up. "Already taken care of."

“You asked Noah, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help the smile that crept on my face.

“Maybe,” he shrugged while giving Salem some belly rubs.

Chase rolled his eyes before pushing himself off the door frame and sitting next to Malcolm. “Of course we did. Who else would you ask?”

“I could have asked Jolly or Jesse. I didn’t want to put this on Noah,” I admitted with a shaky breath.

“Well, he’s basically Salem’s dad now,”

“Malcom!” I smacked his shoulder.

“I’m just saying,” he chuckled while rubbing his arm.

“We’re not official yet, guys,” I ran a hand through my hair before pulling my knees to my chest. “Please don’t do that.”

“No way,” Chase shook his hand as Malcolm rested a hand on his thigh. “We’re not doing that. You need to think of the positives. You two said you love each other. Soon you will find your way back to one another.”

“I love your optimism,” I said while playfully rolling my eyes.

“Hey, smart ass. We know these things,” Malcolm snorted while still playing with Salem.

“You do, huh? Do you have connections to the other side?” I teased.

“We were watching a show last week about alternate universes and shit. It made me think that maybe there’s more of us out there, ya know?” he squeezed Chase’s knee. “Who the hell knows, maybe you and Noah fucked one night, magically fell in love, and went on the road with him. By the end of it, you moved into an apartment that’s right across the street from his house because you couldn’t fathom being away from him,” Chase spoke with a smirk.

My face reddened as I shifted my gaze downwards. “Wow, that’s-uh-you really thought about that.”

Malcolm laughed. “Or what if in another life, Noah walked through literal flames for you.”

I snorted at that thought because there was no way Noah would risk his life to walk through a fire to save my life, even if I was hanging from a building.

“Now you’re talking about shit people read in romance novels. Did my long-lost brother start the fire as well?”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m just saying, the two of you will find your way. We’re proud of you and how far you’ve come. You and Noah will grow together.”

My heart jumped in my throat at how sincere Malcolm sounded and the way Chase’s eyes danced as he stared at me.

“Thank you guys. That means a lot to me,” I smiled.

“Always sweets, always,” Chase kissed my forehead. “You’re the miracle Noah needed, you know?”

“I think he was the miracle I needed as well,” I admitted.

READER

“Wow, Dallas. You are all such beautiful souls tonight. I cannot express our gratitude for all the support we’ve been getting this tour. We’re only four shows in and we’re having the best fucking time. Thank you,” I smiled into the microphone while tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

The crowd cheered wildly as Chase pounded the foot pedal of his drum, the beat making my heart thump hard in my chest. It was night four of the tour and even though it was straight show after show and I was exhausted, I let the energy from the crowd up me hype to finish tonight strong.

The support of this tour had been fucking outstanding. Every show was sold out and we even had to move our last show into a bigger arena due to high demand. The three of us were so unbelievably proud of the direction we were headed and we didn’t want to look back.

“Before we play our last song, I think we need to show our opener some love!” I said into the microphone.

The crowd clapped and screamed but I frowned while shifting my weight on one foot while shaking my head.

“That’s pretty weak. I want the fucking roof to blow off of here. Let’s hear it for nothing, nowhere!”

Chase and Malcolm played an in-sync beat as the crowd screamed, cheered, clapped, and jumped up and down.

“That’s better.” I nodded with a smile while adjusting my guitar. “Not many know this but I’m such a huge fan of nothing, nowhere so to be here touring with him has me fangirling pretty hard right now.”

I peered over to the side stage where Joe was leaning, watching our set with a smile. We met a few days ago and even though I did my best to keep my composure, I was a giddy girl on the inside. He and Malcolm had a lot in common which made them click almost immediately which made tour life easy for all of us.

“So,” I cleared my throat while staring back out toward the crowd. “Our final song is a new one and I’m so excited to perform it in front of all of you. Our new album White Noise will be released in a few months. It’s different than our first three but we promise that it’ll be worth it.”

As the crowd clapped and cheered, I smiled. “My friends, thank you. This song is called Eyelids.”

As we began the song over the loud cheers of excitement, I let my eyes flutter shut as yet again, memories of mine and Noah’s night flashed in my mind.

"Noah," I breathed while breaking apart from the kiss.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck to breathe me in. "Say it again."

I did, over and over like a mantra, as he left a mark on the skin of my neck while his hand switched to the other breast, mimicking his actions from before. The wetness that pooled between my legs was almost a new feeling, never been this turned on.

With one touch I could have sworn he entered my soul. As if my body was his key. He entered me and it fit, pun not intended. Not a thing of metal nor gold, Yet a sensation of love that came.

"I want to hear you," he left a gentle bit on the inside of my thigh

I used the small break-in lyrics to let out a deep breath, doing my best to remain centered so I could finish the rest of the song strong

Noah was in every aspect of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the song.

His fingertips, his eyes, his lips on every inch of skin, or the way Noah steadied our breaths. “Breathe through it with me.”

I did as he said, both of us breathing out my orgasm as our eyes locked intently with each other. I writhed against him, my arousal soaking the condom and parts of his hips. It was such a simple action but the way it set my body on fire intensified the aftershocks to something I'd never experienced. Noah stared down to the place where we met and with a noisy moan, he wrapped an arm tighter around me to pull me flush against his chest as his hips stilled for a second before he emptied himself inside the condom.

Through his sweet words and the resolution of my survival self to never let anyone else sit at my core. He was already there.

As the song ended and I thanked the crowd with a bow, I thought how relieved I was to discover my pure self. That this with Noah could be real love. There was no temptation to change because it was our real selves that bonded us. It is our real selves that each other loves.

That night, I walked away from him without listening to his pleas but now, we were different. We had grown together, for each other.

Tonight, I vowed then and there under the bright lights of this stage that I’d stay.

I would always stay with Noah.

“Kick ass show tonight, guys!” Joe cheered while giving us a round of high-fives.

I smirked while whipping out my phone. “Thanks, Joe! Give me a few minutes and we can head to karaoke.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Whose time zone is it tonight?”

“Mine” I smirked into my phone while I quickly typed out a message.

Me: I love you, mochi.

“Oh,” a hand with a rose tattoo waved in front of my face. “Who has you smiling like that?”

Playfully narrowing my eyes at Joe, I stuck out my tongue at him. “Someone is nosy.”

Just then a new message popped up and my heart fluttered when I saw Noah’s response. It was the same response for the last week but every time, my smile spread wide on my face.

Mochi 🍡: I love you too, angel.

When I went to put my phone back into my pocket, it vibrated with a new message, this time it was a video from Noah of Salem lying on a couch, one I hadn’t seen before.

“Salem, say hi to your mom. She misses you,” Noah’s voice came from the background.

I broke out in an even bigger smile and giggled when my cat did not move, didn't even bat an eye as Noah scratched behind his ears. But the music playing in the background suddenly caught my attention.

The lyrics sounded so familiar.

“Gave you way too many chances but it wasn't enough.”

I replayed the video a few more times to make sure.

“No way,” I muttered, not paying attention to the conversation behind me with Joe, Malcolm, and Chase.

I quickly sent a text to Noah.

Me: Hi Salem baby! Mom misses you! Also, I hear something in the background. Is it..?

Mochi 🍡: He’s napping. He had a long day of playing outside.

My brow peaked.

Me: You took him outside?

Mochi 🍡: Don’t worry, angel. We had him on a harness and leash. He loved laying in the sun on the back patio.

“Sweets, let’s go!” Chase called from behind. “The karaoke place closes in like an hour!”

I waved him off before texting Noah back.

Me: I trust you with him, Noah. But what’s that playing in the background of your video?

He responded with another video and when his face graced my screen, my heart jumped into my throat.

Fuck. Me.

Mochi 🍡: I can’t wait for you to hear the final version.

“Well, who’s that?”

Joe peered over my shoulder causing me to jump slightly while clutching the phone close to my chest.

“Geez, can’t a girl get some privacy?” I asked with flushed cheeks.

The image of Noah in that video played in my mind on a fucking loop and I suddenly did not want to go out with the guys tonight.

Joe raised a brow. “Oh, that’s him?”

Malcolm looked between Joe and me, noticing how red my face was. “What the hell did Noah send you?”

“No-nothing. Just a video of Salem,” I stammered at first but was quick to recover.

Chase’s mouth parted to speak but soon his eyes turned dark, jaw clenching as he stared past me.

“What’s wr-,” I didn’t get a chance to ask because an all too familiar voice crept deep into my bones, ripping me apart from the inside out.

“You still have that fucking cat?”

My heart sunk low to the depths of my stomach and I let my eyes flutter shut, all the breath leaving my lungs.

No. No. No. Please, not here. Not now.

“He can’t be,” I shook my head while keeping my eyes trained hard on Chase, doing my best to stay centered.

Do as Dr. Poulos says; deep breath in for three seconds, long breath out for four seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Malcolm spat while stepping in front of me.

“I needed to come to check out the new Hollow Souls,” the deep voice chuckled darkly.

I didn’t miss the venom in his words.

But I never turned around, simply kept my gaze straight on Chase who still refused to look at me; his own hard gaze was trained on the man behind me. Joe noticed the sudden tension and rested a gentle hand on my elbow.

“Y/N?” His words were white noise.

I’m imagining this. He’s not here right now. There’s no way.

“You looked good on that stage, baby. Although, I bet you’d look even better in the back of it.”

No. No. No.

A sharp whistle. “I know you hear me.”

“What the hell are you doing here? Why are you here?” Chase’s voice was thick with anger.

The voice that I spent so many days in therapy talking about let out a low scoff.

“What? I came to see my protégé.”

Malcolm pushed me towards Joe. “Can you take her back to our bus? We’ll be there soon.”

I shook my head feverishly with tears brimming in my eyes, my back still to the one I refused to look at.

“No. It’s not worth it. Please guys,” I begged while Joe wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Please come with me.”

Chase’s eyes softened when he finally peered down at me. “It’ll be okay, sweets. We’re just going to talk; promise.”

“Come on,” Joe urged my frozen state a few steps.

Until that darkness pulled me back into the place I spent many days dragging myself out of.

“Oh, it seems as if you’re back to your old ways. Fucking the opening act, huh? How does good ‘ol Noah feel about that?” Trey did the jerking-off gesture at Noah’s name.

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed as I spun on my heels, Joe’s arm falling away from me. “Don’t you dare say his name. You haven’t earned the right to talk about him!”

Those cold eyes that I swore at one point I’d have a future with bore into my soul as he ran a hand through the curly locks on his head. Trey smirked wickedly at me.

“I should call him up. Better yet,” He stuck a cigarette on his lips. “Maybe I’ll send him the video I took of you two ogling each other while you were on stage.”

I took a step towards Trey but Malcolm held out his arm to stop me, only for me to push it away.

“Go ahead! You have absolutely no fucking idea what you’re talking about. We should have had you fucking blacklisted,” my upper lip curled, barring my teeth.

“Good luck, baby. My name gets me places, I can’t help it. Plus, I needed to come see my protege. Since I fucking made you,” Trey twirled his hand towards me with a snide smirk.

“MADE ME?!” My eyes doubled as my voice roared through the dwindling venue as fans slowly took their time leaving.

The stagehands and crew members paused their work to watch my outburst.

I took a deep breath to center myself again, not wanting to create a scene right now when there were still so many prying eyes. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show. We’re doing fine without you.”

Turning my back to him yet again, I allowed Joe to lead me away with a hand ghosting over my lower back; until Trey’s voice stopped me.

“You’re so broken you don’t even trust yourself.”

“Y/N,” Joe’s voice was soft as he shook his head. “It’s not worth it. Come-.”

“Excuse me?!” I turned swiftly on my heels, hair whipping over my shoulder.

Trey shrugged while reaching for a strand of my hair, twirling it between his fingers. “You heard me.”

I smacked his hand away, the noise echoing loudly backstage. “No. No, I don’t think I did. Say it again.”

“You’re broken.” Now his hands were in his pocket, a lit cigarette hanging loosely on his lips. “That uh- that new song? That's about him, isn’t it? Where is he?”

Trey made a show of looking around backstage. “I don’t see him anywhere. Oh, let me guess. You demolished it right? ‘Cause we all know you can’t have a perfect thing without doing that.”

My hands curled at my side, knuckles turning white from how hard my nails dug crescent moon shapes into my palm.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Trey! You never did and you don’t know a fucking thing about Noah, okay?”

“I don’t need to. I know enough,” Trey blew the smoke towards Malcolm.

Before he could take a step towards him, Chase wrapped an arm around his chest to pull him away.

“You know he has asthma, you piece of shit!” I pushed Trey hard in the chest. “No. No! No! You’re not going to do this.”

“Do what? We both get off on hurting other people,” Trey snickered while taking a step toward me. “I tell you the fucking truth. You’re on the stage singing your pretty little lullabies and maladaptive daydreams because I let you! And you know what else? That little Sykes wanna be?”

When he made the gesture of sucking a dick, I nearly gagged in my mouth at how disgusting and vulgar Trey actually was.

Anger filled my veins as he continued to spew his venom. Every single thing Trey said was meant for one thing; to hurt and destroy. He’d spent years perfecting it and before, I’d swim in it.

Now? Now I was different and I wasn’t afraid of standing up to him.

“No! Shut the fuck up!” I ran a wild hand through my hair before pointing a finger at him. “You were such a poison that I should have avoided. Every single part of you. I thought you wanted to save me but in the end, all you did was break me!”

Tears fell from my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I refused to cry in front of everyone; especially Trey. He didn’t get the privilege to break me. Not again.

“How dare you reach out your hand? You said you loved me but acted like you hated me,” I choked on a sob. “I should have run but I didn’t.”

Trey flicked the ashes on the ground at my feet with a fake pout on his lips but before he could say anything I pointed another finger into his chest causing him to stumble back.

“No! I have to get this off my chest! There’s more shit I have to say!”

I could feel the proud smiles of Chase, Malcolm, and even Joe as they all flanked behind me. Not stepping in but still wanting to be close in case they needed to.

“You’re not half the man you think you are! You’re not! You’re abusive, an addict, and I hated the way you would make me feel. Everything I did was under a constant microscope with you.”

I began to list things on my fingers. “I couldn’t dress the way I wanted. I couldn’t talk to who I wanted. I couldn’t even fucking talk about things that I enjoyed because if it didn’t involve you, it wasn’t important. In the beginning, you needed to know my every single fucking move. But the one night you went out with your friends and I asked where you were going, you thought it would be funny to choke me!”

“What the fuck?!” Chase roared while stepping up next to me.

I placed a hand on his chest but kept my eyes on Trey. “I’ve outgrown you, I fell out of every trace of love and respect for you, Trey. I’ve moved fucking past you. Yes, in the beginning, I thought that maybe there might have been a chance for us. But you found yourself on drugs and nicotine. A hollow body like a figurine and I always felt like an accessory.”

Joe turned his head towards me with a small smile on his lips.

“Looking back now, I can see it. You always tried to put me in the background. I wasted so much fucking time on you and you wasted so much Hollow Souls time. You held us back for so long because you thought you knew what was best for us.”

A muscle in Trey’s jaw ticked. “I fucking made you. I made this band.”

I rolled my eyes while crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, please. Everyone knows that Hollow Souls was my idea. I was the one who asked Chase and Malcolm to join. I wrote the songs. I wanted to produce our songs but you immediately shot that idea down claiming it was too much work and not worth it.”

Thankfully, it was long after our show ended and the main part of the venue had cleared out but there were still workers backstage as they tore down our equipment. They acted like they weren’t listening to our fight but I knew that with the glances our way every so often, they heard everything.

“You always wanted to change shit that didn’t need to be changed,” he snarled.

I held my arms out wide. “And look where I’m at? Every show on this tour is sold out. We had to upgrade to a bigger venue because of high demand.”

“What?” Trey tossed his cigarette to the ground. “Do you want a fucking medal for that?”

I stepped on the bud of the cigarette, stepping right up into Trey’s space. “You fucked with my head knowing that I couldn't take it and for that, I can't forgive you. I’ll never forgive you.”

Chase waved over security as my final words relieved the weight that I didn’t know was on my shoulders. I thought that the last time I saw Trey I wouldn’t need to say my peace but saying it now, I felt as if I could breathe easier.

“I don’t need you to forgive me, Y/N.” He scoffed. “Noah will never love you and that you won’t blame me for.”

My lips twitched in a smile as I breathed through the last of my stray tears. “You’re wrong, Trey. He does love me, and I love him. You won’t disturb my peace anymore, never again. I’m moving on, and I’m happy. You should be sad, and truly I feel sorry for you.”

I took a step back to stand in between Chase and Malcolm just as security snuck up behind Trey.

“I hope you choke in your sleep while you're dreaming of me. I fucking hope when you suffocate in your sheets that I'll be the last thing you see. Goodbye, Trey,”

My hands shook at my side, something that Joe noticed so he gave them a reassuring squeeze.

One of the security guards grasped Trey’s elbow to drag him out but he ripped it from the guy's grasp. Trey eyed all four of us, his gaze lingering on me a few seconds longer than the others before he spat on the ground at my feet.

The old me would have let that bother her. But the new me simply smirked as I watched security escort Trey out of the building.

Ethan came up to us in haste as he looked back towards Trey. “What the fuck was he doing here?!”

Malcolm made sure that Trey was out of sight then turned towards Ethan, pointing a stern finger at him. “Do whatever you can to get that piece of shit blacklisted from any Hollow Souls shows in the future.”

“Bad Omens too,” I nodded firmly.

Chase cupped my cheek. “Sweet, are you alright?”

Through tears, I nodded. “I’m okay. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

“How do you feel?” He had a faint smile on his lips.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, really thinking about Chase’s question.

Relief.

This felt like a new wave of freedom. Something I’ve yet to experience in a long while. A new form.

I looked back at my new friend and then at my brothers; my family. Those who bring a sense of love into my life. We can make choices to care for the self and still be kind. I had so much to say to him. It felt good to release it- yet; still I killed him with kindness. Something he’d never dare show me.

You can care better for others from strength than weakness.

At the expense of my own comfort. It’s a prudence with integrity that awaits the right moment to be brave. I felt brave.

I was ready for my new beginnings.

Joe motioned behind me. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your bus.”

While Malcolm and Chase hung back to talk more with Ethan about what happened I allowed Joe to lead me outside. The cool night air danced around me with a comforting touch and I let it ease my heated skin. As I made the walk towards where the bus was, Joe had other plans and dragged me to a bench at the back of the venue.

“What?” I asked.

“Sit.” When I didn’t move, Joe nodded to the bench behind me. “Sit down, Y/N. Take a breather. I can see the rage in your eyes and the vein in your neck is doing a weird twitch thing.”

Instinctively, my hand went to my neck, rubbing at it, before sitting on the bench with a long breath; Joe doing the same.

We let a long beat of silence fall between us and with the sudden breeze of cold air, I shivered and covered my bare arms suddenly wishing I didn’t wear the dress with skinny straps.

“Cold?” Joe wondered.

When I nodded, he handed over his jacket which I took gratefully. “I’ll make sure to give it back to you.”

“Good,” he snorted playfully. “Because it’s my favorite.”

I chuckled while easing onto the bench, now warm. “About what happened inside with Trey-.”

Joe bumped his shoulder with mine. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ve been through something similar. I did love how you threw in lyrics from Clarity in Kerosene. ”

I rubbed my hands on my thighs, suddenly nervous. “Uh, yeah. Your album Reaper means a lot to me so it felt therapeutic in a way.”

We sat for another long while, enjoying the quiet that shocked us for being in the middle of the city. It was in the middle of the night but neither of us was complaining.

“It’s an honor doing this tour with you, Joe. I’ve been a fan for so long.” I smiled at him.

“Hey, the honor is all mine,” he ran a hand through his hair with a sheepish smile. “Hollow Souls has been on my playlist for a long time.”

A familiar memory of long ago crept into my mind of someone saying the same thing.

“We're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows.”

“Ya know, someone else told me the same thing the first time I met him,” I said with a warm smile.

Joe’s brow peaked. “Yeah? Seems like I’ll have to meet this someone.”

Noah flashed in my mind now; his infectious smile, his bright almond eyes, and the sound of his laughter made my heart flutter. Even though he was hundreds of miles away, our souls were always connected. It was as if he was sitting right here with me. I could feel the ghost of his hand on my thigh and his lips on mine.

“I love you, angel,” those eyes glimmered as he watched me.

“Hm,” I hummed while bumping my shoulder with Joe’s again. “Maybe someday.”

READER

As I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my long locks, I sighed in content and made work of getting ready. It was an off day but I had no plans, something I intended to keep so much so that I was dressed in a pair of Bad Omens joggers and a black crop top tank. My typical stay-home outfit.

Just when I was about to load up my laptop to continue writing, there was a persistent knock on my hotel room door. It wasn’t Chase or Malcolm since they mentioned to me earlier that they were spending the day doing a joint interview and then getting something to eat.

Some would think it was weird that I wasn’t going to an interview with them but Hollow Souls were all for doing our own separate interviews or joint. I did my fair share of solo ones, the same with Chase and Malcolm. I actually had one planned in a few days so I wasn’t too upset about skipping out on this one today.

“Joe?” I asked while leaning against the open door. “What’s up?”

He smiled while giving me a once-over. “Good, you’re dressed. Grab your things and let’s go.”

“Go where?” My brows furrowed.

“We’re not going to waste the day away inside. I have our whole afternoon planned,” Joe adjusted his hat.

“You do, huh?” I chuckled while leaving him on the threshold of the open door so I could grab my things, not wanting to forget the small camera I brought along for this tour, and slipped on a pair of white Converse.

With the door closed behind me, I let Joe lead me toward the elevator where we waited for it.

“There’s this sunflower field I was thinking we could check out,” Joe said.

“That sounds nice,” I smiled while we both stepped into the elevator.

“Hilary sent it to me this morning and said it would be a great place to clear your head with what happened last night,” he informed.

“Did you tell her-?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek as the elevator descended.

Joe quickly shook his head. “Nope. I only mentioned how you needed to clear your head.”

“Thank you,” I breathed when the doors opened.

For the next few hours, Joe and I enjoyed the peacefulness of the sunflower field. We laughed, we joked, and he told me about his life growing up as I did the same. He also told me about an ex of his that messed him up mentally causing him to hide away for a year.

“I had to cancel shows because the depression and panic attacks were so bad I had to seek treatment,” Joe said as we neared the end of the sunflower maze. “I went to hospitals, sat with monks in Buddhist temples, and went to therapy. I was so mad that someone took years out of my life.”

I smiled solemnly. “I understand what that’s like.”

“Therapy told me that I need to stop hating the world and hating myself. I found someone who showed me what love is and I’ll forever be grateful for her,” Joe said.

“She sounds like a lovely person, Joe. I’m glad you were able to find your happy ending.”

We came to a stop in front of a large patch of sunflowers with him a few spaces in front of me.

“Hey,” I called after him, beckoning him to turn around so I could take a picture of him.

His black hood was pulled over his hat and a small bag crossed over his chest. Although he didn’t smile on his lips, I could see it in his eyes.

“It seems like you found your own happy ending,” Joe noted.

My cheeks burned as I waved him off. “Oh, no. Not yet. We’re not official.”

“But you text each other every night at 10 o'clock to say I love you?”

“It’s-,” I pursed my lips while looking around the field. “Complicated”.

Being in an open field like this, the breeze blowing through my hair, made me remember the last time I was in a place of solace like this.

Earlier that day.

"Noah?" I asked while looking up at him through lashes.

"Yes, angel?"

"You have a cute nose," my voice was quiet.

Noah tilted his head to the side. "My nose?"

"Yeah. It's just the perfect size for your facial structure," I booped his nose.

"Did-did you just boop my nose?" Noah chuckled with a scrunched face.

"See!" I pointed to him. "You look so fucking cute; it's insane."

"Angel, literally.”

"Mochi, literally," I mocked while sticking out my tongue.

Joe’s soft voice brought me out of the memory and I blinked at me. “Hm, I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“Do you want to be with Noah?” He asked his question again while gripping the strap of his bag.

“More than anything,” I answered without missing a beat.

He shrugged. “Then what’s holding you back?”

I licked my lips while shifting on my feet. “It’s not as easy as you think. After that party, so much happened and things were said that I can’t exactly forget. I was hurt and needed time away.”

“So you just left?”

Hearing the reality of what I did from someone else made the guilt eat away at my insides and my heart sunk low.

“I needed to get my head together,” I defended while adjusting the black beanie on my head.

“Do you guys even talk? Besides the usual 10 p.m. texts?” Joe asked.

Not wanting to speak, I shook my head with a long breath.

“Y/N, this might not be my place, but that wasn’t very fair of you to do that.”

I bit my lip, not trying to snap at Joe because all he was doing was being a good friend; something I needed.

“My therapy session is tomorrow. I didn’t need it today,” I sighed while running my hands up and down my thighs.

“My friend, you do,” Joe snorted. “Why are you so afraid of committing to this?”

I played with the string of my joggers, really mewling over his question. Noah and I moved past all the bullshit and we’re ready to finally be together. So what was I so afraid of?

With a wobbly lip, I let out a shaky breath and met Joe’s eyes. “I just don’t want to disappoint him, I don’t want him to ever feel like I don’t support him or something.”

He squeezed my arm. “I don’t think you can. If you’re both more than aware that you’re human beings, Y/N.”

“Understandable,” I nodded. “But I don’t want him to know how flawed I can be.”

“It’s vital to face hard facts and choose to be present, honest, and mindful of what’s happening in the life of your relationship. You guys aren’t even official yet and you’re worrying about shit that you don’t need to.”

Birds chirping were muted by the sudden commotion of a group of people arriving at the sunflower patch but neither Joe nor I moved from the end of the maze we finished a while ago.

“You’re not robots, Y/N.” He began. “Erase any confusion or doubt surrounding your needs so you can learn to powerfully communicate your needs. You both need to talk. Get it out of yourselves, don’t curl up with shit alone. Don’t do that to him. Don’t assume the worst about him, especially when you haven’t even discussed things properly.”

I crossed my arms over my chest while shifting all of my weight to one foot. “I never even noticed. In hindsight, I thought I was doing something validating. Turns out I hurt him numerous times, and he still did nothing but try to love me. Even when I wasn’t perfect. I left him alone in that hotel room because things became to real. I left him the night of the party because we both admitted we love each other. And I do. I love him, Joe. I love him so much. I want us to work. But I don’t understand why I keep leaving him. I don’t want it; I just do.”

Joe gave me a warm smile. “I know, Y/N. You should talk to your therapist about this. I think she can give you more insight than I can offer but just know I understand. You need to approach Noah and this relationship with a loving spirit, believing that he will love you and we want to satisfy you in every way. That he is deserving of your love and kindness even if things feel too good to be true. Feel it out, you’re probably that good of a fit.”

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Joe, I don’t need another therapist.”

He snorted. “No, you don’t, but I’d like to think I’m your friend and I’m telling you, that doing this to someone you love isn’t fair. Noah deserves to communicate with you too. I haven’t met the guy or seen the two of you together but from what you told me I already know. He fucking loves you, Y/N.”

“I love him too, so fucking much, okay? I do,” I admitted with tears in my eyes.

“I’m not saying you don’t/. I don’t know everything but, from my experience and what I’ve learned, shit like this can ruin a perfectly good relationship because we simply don’t tell ourselves the truth.”

I cocked my head to the side confused. “Truth about what?”

“About why you’re subconsciously running,” Joe said. “You’re scared shitless and this avoidance can lead to procrastination that delays dealing with damaging stressors on or within your relationship. It did until the pipe finally burst at the birthday party.”

“Should I be paying you by the hour?” I joked with a small chuckle.

“If you want to,” he snorts. “No, but come on. If you want him to be there for you, to be your everything, then you have to give half as well.”

“I know. I want to. I’ve been feeling so sick lately without him.”

It was true.

Noah and I seemed to have been brought together by this unknown force. The universe? Maybe: we didn’t believe in high powers, yet also knew we weren’t alone.

Staggered over weeks, months, or years. In this time the pain of our separation was an act as a focusing lens. The point was to give each other time to see the purity of our love, to be sure that there can be only one lover for this lifetime.

Seems silly, especially in this era. Yet, it’s how I feel. I just know.

I get almost neurotic to my knees. I know that I must get enough sleep. He made a sham of my pain. I feel like I blew a hole in my heart with an ice-cold magnum.

Why, when he’s not around I feel lonely when there’s company around. I’m not lost, but I have been found. That level of emotional indifference is not a mark of superiority, but the reverse. I was always worth more, I just needed to educate myself as to how and why.

It hit me. My body yearned for the other half of me. The lovers who are right for one another take away the other pain naturally, by virtue of who they are the strength of their loving bond.

I couldn’t wait to embrace him again.

Joe peered over his shoulder, noticing a group of people slowly reaching us so he motioned for me to start walking in step with him. “Of course you do. It’s like half of your entire body is ripped apart and begging for the other half back.”

I smacked his arm. “Yes, exactly like that! Even though we’re far apart from each other right now, I still know subconsciously what he’s doing without actually knowing.”

“Exactly. So you two need to talk together about what you’re facing. Discuss the realities and your key concerns. Listen to each other and reflect on what you hear for optimal understanding. Be curious and open-minded concerning each other’s ideas and solutions for relief and change. If you love him, meet him in the middle like you’re saying in the song, Y/N. Don’t just use words, act too.”

We reached the rental car and Joe leaned against the driver's door. “What do you want this song to do; to say?”

My forehead creased as I put deep thought into Joe’s question. “I think I want to expose the vulnerability. I’m kind of like star light. Maybe it can guide the way to the ones who must travel by night. The ones who don’t know that there is something special waiting for you if you keep pushing forward.”

Joe bumped his fist with mine. “I love that, a reminder for people. However, it’s not just about that.”

“No, no it isn’t,” I chuckled. “It’s special that we aren't so different, him and I. Somehow together we are balanced. As yin and yang, but a perfect match. All I want is for him to ask me to stay again, and I’ll always say yes.”

JOE

The conversation between Malcolm and Chase was muted as we sat at the hotel restaurant, my food going cold a while ago. After my afternoon with Y/N at the sunflower field with our conversation and everything that happened last night, something was weighing heavy on my mind.

Malcolm must have sensed it because he waved a hand in front of my face. “Everything alright?”

My eyes snapped up towards him and I nodded. “Oh yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m just reflecting on that whole interaction last night.

Chase hummed while resting an arm over the back of Malcolm’s chair. “We’re sorry Trey pulled you in the middle of it.”

“It’s fine but he’s a fucking piece of work,” I said.

Malcolm took a long drink of his beer. “Yeah. He’s always been a piece of shit. It was like that for fucking years. Trey tried to dictate everything she did. What the band did. He was off doing what he wanted when he wanted. Y/N would fall into it time after time until-.”

“Til Noah?” I asked with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah,” Chase spoke next. “Have you ever heard of Bad Omens?”

“I’ve heard their name and listened to a couple of their songs. But I’ve never seen his face until recently,” I said.

“Did he send her a dirty photo?!” Malcolm’s eyes widened.

“No!” I shook my head with a chuckle. “Y/N showed me a picture of him in braids.”

“Oh, that picture,” Chase snorted.

I continued again. “Noah has a great range and a good ear; talented guy. He seems crazy about Y/N from what she said.”

“Oh, he is. Shit, he’s over the fucking moon and back and everything fucking else. They have some otherworldly shit going on.”

“Oh yeah? Think so?” I asked Malcolm.

He shared a look with Chase, both of them smiling. “We know so. Noah made her fucking smile again. Laugh in a way we hadn’t heard in so long. He gave her confidence when she desperately needed it. Y/N became herself again. It’s been so beautiful to watch her hatch from the sick cocoon she was in. Last night was a terrific example. We’re so proud of her.”

“Yeah, that was something; the way she stood up to him. She kicked his ass. I may not have been around or anything for long, but that was awesome to see. I’d like to talk to Noah about it.”

Chase and Malcolm shared yet another look, the former's brows raised as he looked at me.

“You want Noah’s number? That’s a bit random, no?”

“I just want to formally introduce myself,” I assured them. “To let him know how Y/N was last night and how awesome your record is.”

“Is that all you want to let him know? Or do you want to make sure Noah knows that you’re not a threat? Because he knows you aren’t. And he also knows that Trey hasn’t come near her,” Malcolm reassured me.

“No, it’s not even about that,” I leaned forward on the table to rest my arms on it. “I want to keep him in the loop, I have a feeling they’re still working out this what do I say or not say phase. Y/N’s become a friend now, and I’d like to also reach out my hand so he knows things are cool on our end.”

I shrugged. “Plus, Noah deserves to know how badass she is and that she can take care of herself.”

After dinner, on my way back up to my hotel room, I had my phone in my hand as I worked out the message to Noah.

Me: Hey Noah, this is Joe. I got your number from Chase and Malcolm. This is a little awkward but I wanted to introduce myself. I’ve actually listened to your band- you’re really talented! The acoustic version of If I’m There was killer, seriously.

Now in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed to send another text.

Me: I’m texting you because I’m sure you saw the video of what happened with Trey and Y/N. I will firstly say, she’s fucking awesome! And I’m honored to be on this tour with her and the guys. Incredible musicians and incredible people. Gearing back to the whole Trey situation, he showed up out of nowhere; but I feel it’s important to let you know, at least from my side, that Y/N kicked ass. She stood up for herself and I could see she felt a world of relief.

Only a few minutes went by when Noah texted back.

Noah Sebastian: Hey Joe, it’s Noah. I’ve heard a lot about you as well. Y/N has been a huge fan of yours for a long time. She was stoked about this tour, and yes she is awesome. Y/N’s special to a lot of us. She’s a genuine person and has a heart of gold; Chase and Malcolm as well. I appreciate your kind words. That means a lot. You know how it is- especially in this industry. And I did see the video, unfortunately. You were there?

I quickly responded to Hilary’s text before typing out my reply to Noah.

Me: In case she needed support.

Noah Sebastian: Right, thank you for that. I hated what Trey said, I wish I could have stopped it myself but I also know how important it was for Y/N to have closure. I’m so fucking proud of her.

I let out a loud laugh when I saw the meme Y/N sent me but swiped away the message for right now, continuing to text Noah.

Me: You should be proud. She’s awesome and she’s over the moon about you. From what I’m told you really lit a fire inside her, and that seems to be shining through. My partner did that for me when I found her and I’m sure it’s the same for you as well. So I just wanted to pass this along and formally introduce myself. I’m sure Y/N will bring this up to you but I wanted to show you how I saw it on my end. I hope we can meet soon.

Me: Oh, also. Hollow Souls new record is going to be sick. What they’ve been working on is sounding great.

I busied myself the next long while getting myself packed since we were planning on leaving in a few hours to head to the next city. Once finished, I realized that Noah texted me back almost instantly after I sent the last text.

Noah Sebastian: For sure! Thank you so much. I wish I could be there. But, I understand it’s not the right time. I do hope soon we can chill at my place to shoot the shit. Thank you again for sending me a text. Very kind of you and I’m sure we’ll talk soon. I can’t wait to hear her new album. We’re all very stoked about it. We’re also close to releasing our record, I’d love for you to check it out!

Me: Hell yes!

READER

“And if you and I can make it through the night,” I hummed while sitting in my bunk on the tour bus.

My laptop was perched in my lap as I loaded up Zoom, clicking on Dr. Poulos’ contact. It wasn’t our usual appointment day or time but with what happened the other day, I felt as if I needed an emergency session. It wasn’t because of the negative parts but for the first time in a long while, I felt good. My spirits were high and nothing could wipe the smile from my face.

“Well someone seems like they’re in good spirits today.” Dr. Poulos’ voice sang through my speakers.

Her graying hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had black glasses perched high on her nose.

“I am actually,” I smiled, the kind of smile that made the corner of your eyes crinkle.

She tilted her head. “Care to elaborate?”

I began telling her the entire story of Trey and my afternoon with Joe from top to bottom; from that night up until now.

“I’m very proud of you, Y/N for standing up for yourself and closing that chapter in your life. And Joe seems like he’s becoming a great friend in the aspect of telling you things you need to hear.”

“Yeah, he is.” I nodded.

Although I was in high spirits before this meeting, something shifted in my brain and I began to stare at the keyboard of my laptop.

“What’s the matter Y/N? You’re slipping into disassociating thought,” Dr. Poulos’ voice brought me back.

“Nothing,” I had a tight lip smile.

“Y/N,” she warned. “We’ve talked about this; you need to be open and transparent.”

Reluctantly, I nodded with a sigh. “Okay, well-.”

When she motioned me on with a nod, I continued. “How- fuck this is embarrassing. How do I stop running away?”

“Do you grasp that’s what you’ve been doing to Noah?”

“I do,” I admitted. “But it hasn’t been intentional. I love him, I’m- I just don’t want to become my parents.”

Dr. Poulos’ gave me a small smile. “It’s great that you’re seeking to address this pattern. Building healthy relationships often involves understanding and addressing the root causes of our behaviors.”

“I’m trying.”

“It might be helpful to reflect on past experiences and identify any underlying fears or insecurities that may be contributing to your tendency to run away from relationships,” she adjusted her glasses.

“I know it’s my mother, I know it is. Noah seemed to know it too since he was there that day she reamed into me,” I said.

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, I remember that day. You were very grateful for him being there weren’t you?”

“More than anything. He’s my safety when I feel like I have none,” I answered.

“That’s wonderful Y/N. In Addition, I suggest practicing self-care, setting boundaries, and communicating openly with Noah as your partner, rather than your friend, which can help build a foundation for more fulfilling and lasting connections. I remember you telling me you finally admitted your love for each other,” Dr. Poulos couldn’t hold back the wide smile on her face now.

“Yes. I do, I do love him and I don’t want to do anything to hurt him. Noah’s already so hard on himself with everything. I don’t want to be one more thing he’s hard on himself about. I want to help, be his escape, and his safe haven. I want him to trust I’ll stay because I want to; I will always stay.”

She wrote something down in her journal before resting her chin in her hand as she looked back at me through her screen. “I know, Y/N. You’ve spoken about this often. Seeking support in this form can also provide valuable insights and strategies for breaking this pattern. I believe the two of you can and you won’t run.”

I ran a hand through my hair, the length becoming a big annoyance lately. “You know so much about this, Dr. Poulos. I don’t know the first thing. I want to be able to communicate with him. Not do what I have been doing.”

“Y/N, it’s normal. It’s critical that before you speak to Noah, you suspend any assumptions or conclusions that put you at odds with him. You absolutely need to approach him by making a generous assumption; and by giving him the benefit of the doubt. This is what it means to be a team, even when you’re feeling distant. You keep loving even when you are feeling as if you are unloveable. You’re not going to do what you did with Trey.”

“Trey.”

His name still tasted bitter on my tongue.

“Yes,” Dr. Poulos nodded. “You got your closure on that chapter. Now this is a new one.

“I can’t shake the fear sometimes. The fear of the feeling coming at me all at once and messing it up,” I shifted in my bunk.

“What I suggest doing when you are feeling upset or angry is to own your emotions and realize that they stem from your interpretation of the situation, not from the facts of the situation. Your fears and deep-seated beliefs about your own sense of inadequacy, unworthiness, or unlovability often lie at the root of all those negative stories you tell yourself about why life is happening the way that it is.”

“Woah,” I blinked. “That’s-uh-a great observation.”

Dr. Poulos narrowed her eyes at me while steepling her fingers under her chin. “I have an assignment for you.”

“Oh, come on! You know how busy I already am,” I joked with a wave of my hand.

She let out a soft giggle. “Yes, well, this will be fairly simple.”

“Take a moment to challenge your assumptions, and allow the possibility that something completely different could be true. Like that, you are loved! And that with patience and respectful communication, you can experience something exceptional with Noah. You said his album is coming out soon, this party could be a great way to try this. Have you thought about going?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said without missing a beat.

“Wonderful Y/N, see this as an opportunity to vulnerably share something about yourself with Noah, be curious so that you, through this experience, can learn something with him, too.”

I’d be the first one to admit that at first, therapy wasn’t something I thought I needed. It was a waste of time to talk about my feelings with someone who didn’t understand. But right now, I was eating my words.

“Joe was right,” I said after a few beats of silence.

“About?” Dr. Poulos shook her head with confusion.

“Discussing this further with you, thank you it helps,” I ended our session with a large smile.

READER

“Not to be overly dramatic. I just think it's best. 'Cause you can't miss what you forget.” Joe sang into the microphone.

I sat in my spot on the couch in the interview space, watching and singing along with a bright smile.

“So, let's just pretend everything and anything between you and me was never meant,” he finished the song with a long breath.

I, along with the interviewer, Jackson, clapped as Joe took a seat next to me on the couch.

“That was phenomenal. We appreciate you being here with us,” Jackson beamed.

My phone buzzed in my lap and with a glance downward, I felt my face warm at the name.

Mochi 🍡: You look phenomenal, angel.

“Thank you,” Joe nodded with a faint smile. “I’m sure I can speak for Y/N that we’re both glad to be here.”

“It seems like the tour is going pretty well. Every show is sold out. How does that feel for you, Joe? I know Hollow Souls are used to this feeling,” Jackson said while fixing his notes, not looking at me.

I tilted my head to the side, tongue brushing over my bottom lip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He finally looked my way and shrugged. “It's just that Hollow Souls is already pretty popular. You guys are used to playing in front of a sold-out crowd.”

“Are you saying that nothing, nowhere isn’t? Or did you forget that his last headlining tour had three back-to-back sold-out shows?” I questioned with a raised brow.

“Well,” Jackson shifted in his chair across from us and looked at Joe.

He merely ran a hand through his hair. “Number one fan.”

“So,” Jackson cleared his throat. “Everyone online is begging me to ask you two this but what’s the dating situation? There’s so much chemistry between the two of you in the behind-the-scenes clips you guys post on Instagram. Everyone wants to know; are you two dating?”

Joe and I shared a look then I made a show of rolling my eyes while crossing my legs. “Just because a male and female artist tour together, doesn't mean they’re dating.”

My phone buzzed again but this time, I opened the message to read it fully.

Mochi 🍡: Tell him who’s boss, angel. You know who you belong to.

I cleared my throat while setting my phone screen down in my lap just in time for Joe to speak.

“No, no. I’m spoken for.”

Jackson looked at me. “Y/N?”

“That’s my name, yes. Do you have a question about Hollow Souls or the tour?” I said with slight venom in my voice.

Typically I didn’t mind interviews but every once in a while, I’d get an asshole of an interviewer that asked all the wrong kinds of questions.

“Video surfaced online that Trey was at the show a few nights ago and it looked like the two of you were having an intense conversation. Is there a chance he’s joining Hollow Souls again?”

My face twitched as something inside of me burned. I leaned towards Jackson with narrowed eyes.

“Here’s what we’re not going to do; we’re not gonna focus on my love life, or personal life. I make art, not headlines. I’m cool because I'm me, and my band is cool. The art is what’s the focus, not anything else. I do feel as if people need to understand that having a private life is my right. I don’t feel comfortable sharing every aspect. Like I said, I make art, not headlines.”

“That’s a bold statement to make. It comes with the whole fame territory,” Jackson tried to joke.

“I refuse to allow this time in my life to be touched, tainted, or bastardized by anyone,” I finished while crossing my arms over my chest.

While Jackson changed his direction and tone of questions towards Joe for the next couple of minutes, I bounced my knee as the anger continued to fest low in my gut until another text came in.

Mochi 🍡: Fuck I love when you put douchebags in their place. You’re so sexy, angel. Fuck. I’m going to think about you bossing me around all night.

A hot flash of arousal took over every inch of me as I shifted in my spot on the couch, clenching my thighs together to curb the itch that burned there.

“Everything alright?” Joe wondered when he saw the warmth on my cheeks.

I cleared my throat. “Yep. Totally fine.”

It would be so easy to call Noah to have our first phone sex but the thought of messing with him later sounded more fun.

“So, Y/N. I’d love to know what the future of Hollow Souls looks like?” Jackson questioned with a different tone.

“See? It’s not that hard to ask questions that actually matter,” I teased with a smile. “But I don’t think we found ourselves because we always knew we wanted this style and this direction but we never really had the confidence to do that.”

“With this record though, we finally have the assurance to know that we can make it work.”

“Is there inspiration behind this new album?” Jackson wondered.

“I've always been really inspired by dark things and the supernatural for some reason. Ghosts, paranormal stuff, death, anger, sadness.”

I gave pause when I realized that this wasn’t exactly a happy inspiration.

“Well, anything that’s not happy basically inspires me, which sounds kinda messed up,” I admit with a laugh.

“A lot of the new record, I wrote when I was having a really bad time mentally. I don’t like calling it depression but it seemed like that and I couldn’t pinpoint what my issues were, or what was wrong with me but I knew there was something wrong.”

Joe watched with a proud smile and I knew that there were a few others back home watching with their own proud smile; my heart could feel it.

“My problems weren’t tangible things, they weren’t things I could see or explain to people so in a way it was like they were ghosts or spirits that were haunting me,” I continued.

Jackson rubbed his chin. “Why do you think that is?”

I pursed my lips, thinking about my answer deeply. “I think a lot of people are afraid to put it out there and talk about it but we weren’t. I think that might be a big reason people have connected to the songs that have been released so far. I feel like for anyone who’s sharing feelings of topics like that, it’s a little bit scary but I feel it's more therapeutic and cathartic to write about that stuff, to talk about that stuff and put it out there. You feel better about it. To know that other people can connect to that makes you feel even better. As scary as it at first, it eventually just pays off and turns out to be good in the end.”

“Why do you think people can relate to it?”

I shrugged. “I guess because our new album is pretty raw and honest. There’s a lot of topics people can relate to and I think it sounds pretty great, if I do say so myself. We’re pretty proud of it.”

Jackson leaned into his chair. “I would like to jump back to the haunting aspect of this album. Can you elaborate on what exactly is haunting you, if you don’t mind.”

We’d be here all day if I did and frankly, it wasn’t his or anyone who was watching business.

“I’m becoming a very private person as of late so I don’t need to go into the personal aspects of my life. Just know I’m moving past things, and I’m very content. Dare I say happy with where the future will be.”

Jackson nodded. “Fair enough. Would you say you’re hopeful for what the future will bring?”

With a bright smile, I looked directly at the camera that had been pointed at us the entire time and winked.

“Oh yes, more than hopeful.”

Later on that night, when I was in the solace of the bathroom of the tour bus, I wore the skimpy red lace teddy I bought earlier. The necklace and bracelet glinted under the dim light as I extended my arm to take a variety of pictures; the sly smirk never leaving my lips.

With four different pictures attached, I quickly typed out a message to Noah right on the dot at 10 p.m.

Me: You were bold to text me earlier like that, mochi, I could barely contain myself. Here’s a little payback. Hope you’re all flustered and bothered, whatever you’re doing I suppose will have to wait. Dream of me. I love you.

Almost instantly, Noah texted back as I was swiftly changing into my pajamas for the evening. What I thought was one text became four right after the other.

Mochi 🍡: Matt’s right next to me, angel. What if he saw this?

Mochi 🍡: fuck, my dick is throbbing right now but I can’t do shit about it. Consider this my karma.

Mochi 🍡: I can’t stop staring at the picture. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. A true definition of an angel.

Mochi 🍡: I’m going to call you in a little bit. I need to hear your voice. I need it.

Switching off the bathroom light, I walked across the narrow hallway to climb into my bunk and under the covers

Me: I’m going to bed early tonight. Maybe we can talk on the phone tomorrow. I love you.

By the time Noah responded, I was already in a peaceful, dark slumber.

Mochi 🍡: Fuck, I love you too angel. So fucking much.

READER

"Wait," Joe shook his head at us. "You guys do this after every tour?"

Malcolm nodded as he held the door open for all of us. "Every tour. It's become a Hollow Souls tradition."

As we all crowded into the small tattoo shop’s lobby, Joe's eyes brightened with the realization.

“Oh, so that's why you got the tattoo of the anime character on your ankle.”

"Yep, I smiled brightly. "Noah and I got them together on my birthday."

The buzzing was loud in the tattoo shop as I waved at the owner who had no problem staying open late for us tonight. We finished the tour strong tonight with a hype crowd and with the adrenaline still buzzing through us, we decided to get the tattoos as soon as we left the venue.

Joe shifted on his feet while running a hand through his hair. “You’re positive you want to get the Reaper album art tattooed?”

"This album helped me through some dark times in my life. I need to do it, especially with what happened last week. It’ll be a great way to remember a great tour and the new friend I made,” I answered while bumping his shoulder with mine.

After we all checked in and waited, Chase ruffled my hair. “It’s almost 10 p.m LA time, sweets.”

"Shit!" I cursed while quickly whipping out my phone from my pocket. "I can't believe I almost missed it!"

Me: I love you, Mochi. Last night of tour went off without a hitch. Currently getting our typical tattoos. I can’t wait to show you what I get.

I sat on the bed, exposing my left thigh to the artist after she laid down the stencil, and struck up a conversation with everyone as I waited for Noah to respond. Surprisingly, tonight it took him a long while to text back which made my mind wander to what he was up to. My heart didn’t ache and my stomach wasn’t filled with nerves which meant it wasn’t anything terrible.

After my risque picture I sent him the other day, we never had the chance to talk on the phone, but I knew that it still affected him because any chance he could, Noah would send me risque texts throughout the day.

“Thank fuck,” I breathed when my phone buzzed next to me.

Mochi 🍡: I can’t wait to see it, angel. Also, sorry it took me so long to respond. I may have taken Salem to the pet store to spoil him with a few things. I hope you know I plan on keeping him for a bit once you’re back home. Mal said you guys will be busy in the studio so no need for Salem to be home alone. I love you too, angel.

“I would ask who has you smiling like that but it’s pointless. There’s only one person who can do that,” Malcolm snorted while his artist wrapped up his tattoo.

I stuck out my tongue at him. “Noah told me he took Salem shopping.”

Chase rolled his eyes playfully. “And you say he’s not Salem’s dad yet.”

Before I could set my phone down, another message came through; one I read with a fast beating heart.

Nick R : February 23, 2022. 929 Angelus Street. Turn Right on Luna Ave. Overnight valet is already handled. No, Noah doesn’t know when to expect you. Don’t be late, Cinderella.

Nick R: The theme is red. I think you know why. Do with that what you will.

Oh shit, that was in just over two weeks. Which meant I needed a dress. And new shoes. A new hairstyle wouldn’t hurt either.

With a smile, I responded back to Nick.

Me: We will be there! Unlike Cinderella, I have no intention of losing my shoe and missing my Prince Charming.

Nick R: Oh good! We are merely the mice.

CHASE

I grumbled under my breath as I scrubbed out the fresh red paint out of the dining room carpet. How many times have I told her to put a damn drop down? Y/N’s lucky I know my way around cleaning supplies and know how to get a stain out.

Malcolm clicked his tongue against his teeth as he leaned against the wall, staring down at me as I continued to scrub on my hands and knees.

“I must say, I love this sight of you. On your knees.”

I snapped my eyes up at him. “Not fucking funny, Mal.”

“I think she’ll be really excited for what Noah has planned,” he noted.

“Oh she’s gonna lose it! In the best way,” I agreed while continuing to scrub.

“I think so too.” Malcolm placed a kiss on my lips before sauntering into the kitchen to get things ready for dinner. “How long do you think Y/N will be?”

“Not sure,” I ran a hand over my buzzed head then threw in the towel; literally.

“You know how she is when she’s let loose in the art supply store. I’d be shocked if she made it back before dinner,” I continued while hopping up on the counter.

Malcolm began setting out the variety of ingredients and I reached for my phone next to me.

Me: Noah, beware of paint all over the carpet.

Noah S: Already taken care of.

I showed Malcolm the text to which he smirked. “Did we expect anything less from him?”

Me: Good. Because even though I love her to the ends of the earth, paint is a fucking bitch to clean.

Malcolm handed me a beer, one I took with a kiss of thanks, and slowly nursed it as Noah texted me back.

Noah S: Here’s the address. I would love it if you and Malcolm come check it out.

Me: Definitely. Let's plan for Friday?

READER

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, eyes locked on the things scattered all over the counter, I found myself dissociating into thoughts of earlier today when we were in the studio. We had one last song to record before we started the final touches but this song was the most important. It needed to be perfect.

I needed to be perfect.

Which is why

“Sweets you’ve gone over the verse we can meet in the middle at least ten times now. I think it’s good.”

Chase reassured me as I came out of the vocal booth with a scrunched up face. I did not like how my voice sounded which prompted me to do vocal take after vocal take.

I fell to the couch in between him and Malcolm. “I need this to be perfect. I hate how my voice is sounding. It can’t sound like this. It can’t.”

“It sounds amazing, Y/N! I promise,” Malcolm said.

“I just-,” I ran a hand through my long hair and groaned. “This is so important to me. I want him to know I’m here. And I’m not going to leave him.”

“Noah knows sweets, he knows. He’s so stoked for this record. You know he’ll love it.”

I tossed my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, exhausted with the length. I needed my neck to breathe. It felt as if I was suffocating under the weight of it.

“Fucking hormones,” I eventually chuckled while wiping tears from my eyes.

Malcolm gave me a weak smile while rubbing my back. “Any pain today?”

“A little but not much. It’s bearable.” I informed them.

Chase nodded while squeezing my knee. “Ok, if you need a break let us know. Don’t push yourself too much. You sound beautiful.”

Salem jumped on the counter, breaking me from my thoughts, and immediately I brought him up in my chest. His green eyes stared up at me in wonder and maybe a little bit of confusion with what he saw.

“Did you have fun with Noah?” I missed you so much,” I cooed.

Noah dropped him off while we were in the studio, us just missing each other by mere minutes.

My fingers scratched at Salem’s neck, now realizing the bright red collar and new tag.

“Oh, dad did in fact spoil you while I was gone. New collar, new tag, a bunch of new sushi toys. Not to mention the bed that can fit a 20 pound dog,” I chuckled.

My shoulders went rigid when I realized what I just said.

Dad.

I just called Noah Salem’s dad.

Swallowing thickly at the acceptance, I then looked at the new tag and felt my heart jump into my throat; heat spreading from the tips of my toes to my scalp.

Oh my heart.

Salem Sebastian-L/N.

And on the front of the tag were symbols I’d never seen before. “Huh, that's weird. What’s with the yin yang and eye symbol?”

Biting my lip, I set Salem down on the counter and picked up my phone instead, quickly dialing the number I had memorized so long ago.

Noah picked up after the second ring. “Hi, angel.”

I twirled a piece of fresh hair around my finger while leaning against the counter.

“Salem Sebastian-L/N huh?”

A quick beat of silence. “Yeah. Figured he needed a collar with his full name. I think he likes me, he was quite needy. Is that alright?”

“Definitely alright, mochi,” I smiled into the phone. “Do the symbols have any meaning?

“You’ll know soon, angel.”

“Okay then. Keep your secrets,” I groaned.

Noah’s infectious laughter made my stomach flip. “Will do, Frodo.”

“I think we are due for a Lord of the Rings marathon soon. You down?” I bit the inside of my cheek, hopeful for his answer.

“Always down, especially with you.”

I did my best to hide my excitement and was thankful Noah wasn’t here to see the way I jumped on the soles of my feet. “Wonderful.”

There was a long comfortable silence before his rich voice came through the speaker.

“I miss you. I love you.”

I played with my necklace. “I miss you too, Noah. I love you.”

“We’ll talk later?”

It was now him who had the hopeful tone.

“Always,” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

“Okay.”

I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight mochi”.

“Good night angel.”

As I hung up the phone, Chase and Malcolm both popped their heads into the bathroom. They had an approving smile on their face.

“Does it look bad?” I asked self-consciously.

Malcolm was the first to speak. “It looks really good, sweets. We’re proud of you.”

“New Era coming, huh?” Chase asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “Yeah I think so. I’m ready for it.”

“Well good. Because we are too,” he knocked on the wall before the two of them disappeared in their bedroom.

Hooking up the blow dryer, I began to dry my now darker and shorter hair, humming along to a song that had been stuck in my head all day.

“I was lost but now I’m found.”

Salem jumped up onto the closed toilet seat, watching me with bright eyes.

“We’re not perfect but we’re proud of who we are,” my voice echoed in the confines of the bathroom.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

293 notes · View notes

rafeyscurtainbangs · 3 months ago

Text

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 6 of 6 Final Chapter and Epilogue)

Bonus smut chapter is complete - making final edits now 💕

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

🪄 Warnings contain spoilers: blood, cheating, swearing, name-calling, threats, soft!rafe, mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, guns, fighting, ownership kink, mention of drugs, stabbing, murder, major character trauma, pet names.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨ “You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? ✨

Reader’s POV:

You roll into the parking lot, unable to fight back your smile. The week was long, but the phone conversations with Rafe held you over just enough. The jail in Charleston wasn’t as lax as Kildare County. Understandably, Rafe did not want to push his limits, leaving the phone conversations shorter than you’d hoped they’d be. Until Rafe was out and everything was taken care of, he didn’t want you to leave the penthouse, which meant no face-to-face visits, leaving you craving him even.

Rafe ensured you were taken care of: additional security, groceries sent over, dinner brought by every night, fresh-cut flowers when he thought the old ones had wilted. Rafe had the G-Wagon scrubbed and triple-checked for any additional trackers placed or bugs planted.

He paid a hefty fee to have the cops delete a single recorded call between the two of you. Rafe wanted to know what happened the night he had gotten taken away by the officers. He wanted to know what Tony had said in the voicemail, and what happened between the restaurant and the penthouse. Everything was awful, but the voicemail conjured up the most fury. Rafe dissected each word, dragging Tony; your ex’s vile words just added fuel to the fire, like he needed any more. Rafe was very conscious with his words, careful not to incriminate himself further, emphasizing the importance of the business meeting, and that he was looking forward to it even more now.

Of course, given the situation, you couldn’t ask about Tony. His well-being wasn’t the concern, just curiosity. Where was he? Where did Barry take him? It’s been seven days… He must be well-hidden, or his boys would have found him by now. There’s no way he’s dead… Rafe would never allow Barry to take that pleasure away from him.

A conversation— it’s never a conversation with these men, even more satirical after watching how the first one unfolded. If Tony had been there, this would have been over. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen. I’m sure Rafe has a few things he wants to say to Tony before he pulls the trigger. There are so many things I want to say to him. I wish I could have been strong enough to take the call at the bar. His words have done nothing but haunt me. But maybe I was meant to hear it too… Any fraction of guilt I had about my choices were eliminated in an instant.

The door of the jail fans open, just like it did the week before; Rafe all smiles once again. He bites his lip as he walks to you, taking you in like it's the very first time. Rafe shakes his head in awe as he looks down at you, clearing the space between as you do the same. You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his neck. He kisses wherever he can, mumbling against your soft skin about how you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen and feelings mutual. Seeing the beautiful man before you, paired with all the lovely things he did brings nothing but tears and emotion. “I love you, Rafe. I love you so much,” you snivel.

“Mmm…” He hums happily, taking his turn kissing up the column of your neck to your ear. “I love you, princess.”

You pull back and smile, eyes locked. His ocean eyes shimmer with happy tears as well. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, his focus like a magnet pulling you in. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck as he cradles you in his embrace. Rafe backs you against the car, deepening the exchange. Your tongue swirls with his, lips moving in perfect harmony. He smiles along your mouth, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Damn, I missed my girl.”

Rafe grips the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your bare thigh. His gold chain twinkles on his athletic chest, poking slightly out of his black fitted polo. It had taken everything in your power not to pull him into the back seat after watching him change out of the button-down he walked in with, still sprinkled with blood from the club. He looks at you with a smirk, catching you gawking, loving every second of your attention. “It’ll be a short meeting. Aight? Think you can wait?” He teases, making your cheeks warm up as you fight back a dizzy laugh.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You take his hand in yours, lifting it, kissing his fingers one by one. “I still have to thank you, baby.”

Rafe releases a lusty laugh, relaxing in his leather seat a little more. “Trust me, princess. I have not forgotten. I've thought about it every night. But, a ‘thank you’ is not necessary… I love takin’ care of you, and I always will.” The car speeds past the town’s welcome sign, barreling toward the Atlantic.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“You’re droppin’ me off at the beach house, baby. You can head over to Tanneyhill. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, and we can get out of here. How does that sound?” He smiles. You clear the lump in your throat, trying to focus on the question Rafe is asking, but your mind is fixated on the rest of his words. Rafe wants me to leave? “Baby?” he asks gently.

“I’m dropping you off…” You question uneasily. “Don’t you want me to come with you? Don’t you need me close by?”

The muscles in Rafe’s arms flex as he tightens his hand around the steering wheel, shaking his head ‘no’ as he narrows his sights on the road. “I don’t want you to see this, princess,” he responds levelly, his eyes landing on yours.

“Couldn’t Barry take care of him?” You invite without thinking. Rafe’s brows knit tightly, a puzzled look pulling on his beautiful face.

“No… Why, baby?” He asks, trying his best to keep his compass on the road ahead.

“I don’t know,” you answer hastily. “I just don’t - I don’t know.” Your stomach sinks, uneasiness setting in. After everything that Tony has done and said, he’s better off dead, but thinking about him dying at the hands of Rafe mere minutes from now had your heart racing. I can't help but think about the fact that he bamboozled Rafe not once but twice. He would have walked into an ambush at the strip club without me there… He had no clue the drugs were planted in the Mercedes. “I don’t know!”

“What don’t you know, exactly?” He asks as he pulls up to the beach house, sailing into the driveway, pulling between a vintage BMW and the white van that Tony got taken away in. Rafe turns toward you, demanding your attention. “Are you having second thoughts about this?” He questions, his words dripping with accusation.

“No!” You gasp. “I - I just. I don’t know, Rafe. I’m just freaking out. Okay?” You whimper as tears start to cloud your vision, your anxiety about the situation making your mind muddled.

“Do you want him to live?” He asks. It’s hard to place his tone; Rafe at the junctions between perplexed and agitated, his frustration with you clear in his body language alone.

“Of course I don’t. I want this to be over with,” you blubber.

”So do I, princess. And we talked about this before. It’s not going to be me and you if he’s here. Do you want it to be me and you-”

”Yes!” You cry out before he can even finish his sentence.

“Don’t think about it then, Aight? Let me handle business. This is why I don’t want you in there. I don’t want this on your conscience. I want to handle this for you. And we will never talk about this again. Okay?” You nod in silent agreement, but he shakes his head ‘no’. “Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Rafe leans in, kissing you softly. You cup his cheeks in your hands, running your thumbs along the stubble that’s grown on his face since confinement. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Rafe, but things keep goin’ wrong. Tony keeps getting in the way. I don’t want him to hurt you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

He melts into your touch, looking at you with adoring eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me. And he’s not gonna hurt me. All right? He’s strapped to a chair. He has been for a week. This is just a matter of me lookin’ him in the eyes and letting him know that he will never get to hurt you again. Yeah?”

“Okay, baby,” you breathe as Rafe catches your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, y/n. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay… I love you too, baby.”

“I know you do,” he whispers. “Once I close this door, I want you to drive. Understand?” He asks as he opens up the navigation on your phone, pulling up the address to his home in Figure Eight. “Remember what happened last time I told you to leave but you stayed an extra two minutes. You gotta listen to me,” he asserts.

“I’ll listen.”

“Promise?”

“I swear,” you whisper.

Rafe grabs the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open before walking around the front, helping you to your feet. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the other side. He hugs you tightly, pressing kisses on your forehead and cheeks before landing on your lips, kissing you one last time.

“Just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Nah,” he breathes. “Not this time. I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

Your hand holds his as he steps away until your fingers lose contact. Rafe reaches behind his back just as he did the night you walked into the club, checking the pistol tucked into his waistband before falling out of sight. You step into the driver’s seat, wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, still warm from Rafe. You grab the shifter, putting it in reverse, fighting against the impulse to wait in the wings ‘til he handles business, just in case he needs to flee. This man gives and gives. He has barely asked me for anything in return. Just leave. You roll out of the drive, pressing down on the gas.

Rafe’s POV:

“Barry?” I bark, my voice bouncing off the walls of the beach house. Rap music swells from the basement, the dank smell of weed hazing the place. My aggravation starts to mount; a SOLO cup crushes under the heel of my dress boot, just one of many. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans litter the counter, takeout food strewn across the tables, thongs, stripper heels, and a few stray lines of coke left cut on the counter. “I’m gonna kill him,” I curse his name under my breath as I bound toward the basement door.

I tug it open, my heart plunging as I see a pool of blood gathered on the floor. Shit. I catch my gun, heart banging as I race down the flight. “Oh, fuck… No. Sh-Shit. Barry?” I stutter as I run toward him, his white tank top drenched crimson red. His dark eyes lift momentarily, falling heavy the next. I catch his shallow breathing, leaning in close as he tries to mumble out a few words, quelled in blood.

“Tony?” I ask, watching as he gives me the slightest nod. This blood is fresh. He’s here.

BANG.

I draw my gun again as the door at the top of the stairs bangs shut. Here we go… I sprint toward the wall, half-hidden, listening to his heavy steps as they move closer and closer.

“You hidin’ from me, Cameron?” Tony’s voice cuts through the hush. “That was an awful lotta coke. You come to pay up? Or, did you just come to take somethin’ else from me?” He booms as he steps out, footing right past me.

He looks like shit. His white button-down shirt tattered and bloodied on his large body; Tony’s donning the same worn-in beard as me after his week of imprisonment in the basement. The fucker got the shorter end of the stick apparently, beaten to the edge of death, Barry doing all but killing the bitch.

I check his hands, breathing a sigh of relief; no gun. I adjust my mine as I see a weapon, however, a large kitchen knife clutched in his massive hand. End this. I find his head in my crosshairs, aiming my pistol at his skull, gritting my teeth, battling with the rational part of my brain that’s tellin’ me to fire. The irrational part of my mind yearning to feed my pride and tell him everything I wanna say for her… Tony bends around, smiling with blood-stained teeth. Shit.

“You gonna shoot, Cameron? Or you gonna just stand there like a pussy,” Tony spits.

“We got some shit we need to talk about first. Hmm?”

“You wanna talk about my girl-“

“My girl,” I stop him as I step a little closer, making him shake his head in disbelief, snickering cruelly as he looks back at me.

“Yours? Your girl? Since when exactly. ‘Cause she never said shit to me. Do you honestly think that she loves you? Are you that fuckin’ stupid?” He asks as he rolls up his sleeves, preparing for a fight.

“I know she loves me,” I grunt as I square up with him.

“You think she’d leave me? It was our plan for you to die at the club. She knew it. I knew it. You were just supposed to walk in.”

”You’re lyin’,” I spit.

“Am I?” He smiles again— that same wicked and crazed smile; punch-drunk after a week of torture. “You know I’m not, Rafe.”

“You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? You think I believe you you’d actually let me fuck-”

”ENOUGH!” He thunders, his loud, deep voice making my muscle tense up. “Don’t finish that FUCKING sentence. Because how hard you make this is how hard she's gonna get it after I KILL you. You understand?”

“You can't even let me finish the sentence, Marietta. You can’t even let the words leave my lips,” I chuckle. “Ya know, about fuckin’ “your” girl, on the couch of your club? That same couch you fucked some stripper on. You think I believe that you’d actually let that happen? She ain’t in on this, Tony. This is you losin’ her and settin’ me up.” He steps closer and so do I, the pair of us level-eyed.

“I’m not lyin’. That women would do anything for me. And, at the end of the day, even if I am lyin’, she’d only want you for your money, Cameron. I’m man enough to admit you got more than me— new money and old money in your pocket. She saw an opportunity and took it. She’s either in on this or in it for the cash.”

“She’s not after my money,” I mumble as I try to keep my emotions at bay. “She’s not in on shit.”

“‘Course she is… Your head is just too far up your ass to see what’s really goin’ on around you. N’let’s just say my baby isn’t in on this with me and she just after your money and she finds someone else with more, buddy, you’re fucked. ‘Cause if you get what you came here for and you kill me, everything in my name goes to her: all of the hard earned money that I made that she loves to spend, the club, the law firm, my cars, my jewelry, my homes. Everything that I have she takes from me. And she knows that. You gotta see what’s goin’ on here. Right?” He asks as he looks back at me like I'm stupid.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” He chuckles. “You know before your boys picked me up, I was on the way to fuck my girlfriend in that pretty little penthouse you bought her. She even sent me a few pictures in that pretty pink lingerie. You know, the one she was describin’ for you on the phone? Fuck, Rafe. You should see it on her. My princess doesn’t just talk a big game. She knows how to fuck,” he sneers as he catches me battling my emotions. “Why don’t you go look at my phone. Pretty sure it’s in his pocket. You can see for yourself.”

My stomach falls as I hear the door crack at the top of the stairs—one step then another, as the person at the top creeps down. No. No. Tony hears it as well, the man looking over my shoulder with a smile. “Guess who’s here, Cameron,” he whispers. “Princess?” Tony softens his tone with her, the sound of y/n’s slight feet stopping in a flash.

Was this her plan all along?

I scrunch my nose; eyes burning with tears of deceit and rage. There’s no way the story he’s spinning is true. If he kills me, and he’s lying, what will happen to her? I can’t take that risk.

I shove him hard, making him stumble back, kicking him with the heel of my dress shoe square in the chest before he can rise back up to his feet, sending him and the knife to the ground. I hear her soft gasp; her feet quickly clearing the rest of the steps. “Don’t move, y/n,” I bark back at her.

“Rafe?” She whimpers, making me look over my shoulder. The second I do the air flees my lungs, Tony’s big body tackling me to the floor. My skull ricochetes off the hardwood floor; eyes slamming shut in pain, losing my gun in the process. I overpower him, rolling him to his back, grabbing his shoulders I lift him slightly, bashing his head against the ground again and again making him scream out in pain.

He scratches and claws at my face and shirt as I wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing with all my might. "Not so easy to fight a man. Huh?" I hiss.

"F-Fuck you," he stammers as he throws a rough punch, meeting my jaw. I respond with four of my own. The connections, direct and brutal, the dried blood on his face replaced with fresh blood as his body starts to go limp.

Finally.

I stare down at him, lifeless, one with the floor, his breathing almost nonexistent. I draw my hand back, slapping him across the face, his head snapping to the side; body unresponsive to the pain. I drag myself to my feet, stumbling across the living room for my gun. An execution. This ends right here. Right now.

My chin trembles with adrenaline and emotion as I try to get his words out of my head. There’s no way she was in on this all along. Everything she shared with me, the things she said to me, the things we did… That was real. She's here ‘cause she was worried. She's here ‘cause her intuition was right. She's here for me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. My heart sinks, the rapid bounding of Tony’s feet stopped almost as soon as it start. It’s quiet, wet gurgling and a soft whimpers are all that remains. I turn around, facing Tony but his eyes aren’t on me. He looks down at his chest, the bloodied tip of carboned steel poking out from his chest. He falls to his knees before me, y/n standing behind him in shock, watching as he tumbles face-first on the floor.

She looks up at me, eyes filled to the brim with tears. I run to her, pulling her into my arms, holding her body close as she clings to me for dear life.

I haven't let her go since. It wouldn't feel right. I hold her, watching as the sun sets in the east; a blood-red sky, painted across the Atlantic. The last sliver of the golden sun dips below the horizon. I kiss her gently on her cheek, down the soft flesh on her neck to the dip on her shoulder before resting my chin on top. “Are you okay, baby,” she whispers. I rest my hands on the top of hers, pressing my chest against her back as we both look over the edge of the yatch, watching the black water swell below.

“M’perfect, princess,” I whisper as I nuzzle into her neck. “Are you okay.”

“I am,” she whispers, “because of you. Thank you...”

“Thank you,” I mumble as she melts into me. “I needed you. I can't believe you did that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispers as she turns, resting her hands against my chest, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “I know him. I know Tony probably filled your head with lies but I promise, none of it’s true.”

“I know,” I assure as I cup her cheeks in my hands, guiding her soft lips to mine. “This is almost over and from here on out it’s just you and I.”

“You and I,” she echoes. I kiss her forehead and her lips before pulling away.

“Stay here. M’serious.” She nods submissively, falling back as I move foward. I shuffle across the main deck, grabbing the rail, walking down the small flight of stairs to the carport before raising the hatch. I reach behind my back, pulling out my 9mm, opening the trunk.

There he lies, Tony Marietta. I smile as he lifts his eyes, matching mine; the bloodied knife already laying by his side. I take the gun, pressing it against his temple, tilting my head slightly to keep his eyes on me. “M’so glad you’re alive for this… I could make this fast,” I whisper. “But after all the shit you did, I’m gonna have you dyin’ nice and slow. Too bad I don't get to watch.” He goes to speak but all that comes out is a thick trail of blood. “I know what you're gonna say… Don’t worry. I’m gonna do what you couldn’t. I’m gonna take care of her. And that's a promise.” I toss my gun inside before slamming the trunk.

Moving to the front I step inside, firing up the engine before shifting it into neutral. I give the vintage ride a little push, the pull of the yacht sending the tires rolling. I follow the car as it plunges into the deep, dark waters, the depth snuffing out the headlights ‘til all that’s left is blackness.

Goodbye, Tony.

Epilogue

One year later…

Reader’s POV:

You roll up to Tanneyhill, flooding the big driveway with light after a late night shift at the Country Club. It’s mine now and business is booming; a new staff with increased security. Rafe took it upon himself to turn it from the dive it once was to a luxury experience, all for me. Of course I clean his money, the perfect front. Anything for my man. Stepping out of the car you make your way up the cobblestone walk to the front door, passing the bay window, watching as Rafe shuffles by in a black button down, resting two plates of food down on the table.

“Knock. Knock,” you sing as you open the door with a smile, matching Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes making him return the same.

“Babygirl,” he croons as he walks closer, helping you out of your jacket before, swathing his strong arms around you waist, looking down at you lovingly.

“Welcome home. Happy Anniversary,” you coo as you rise on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til next week.”

He smiles against your lips, recalling his initial plan, the pair of you knowing there was no way he was gonna miss this day, even if it meant flying home from Morocco for one night only. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that, princess,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “I got your favorite.”

Rafe takes your hand, leading you to the dining room, pulling out your chair, directing you to sit. You look across the table seeing all of your favorite things; the meal, the flowers, wine. Little candles glint in the middle of the table, adding to the ambiance as he runs you a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, the first bottle of wine you shared on your very first night together.

"You look stunning," Rafe praises, lifting his glass to his lips, sipping slowly as his eyes drink you in.

"And you look very handsome, Rafe Cameron," you hum, resting your hand on the thigh of his Armani suit.

"You know baby, you’ve been working too hard. Are you free this week?” He asks, knowing the answer is ‘no’, but that’s not the reply he’ll get. If he’s asking you to go somewhere he’s already worked everything out for you.

"I’m always free for you, baby."

"Mhmm… Barry and his girl are gonna watch the club so you can come to Morocco with me. How does that sound?”

“So nice… You’re so good to me,” you sigh blissfully as you grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him to your lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

"Mmm… Yeah? Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how much you love me? We can see what happens next,” he chuckles warmly.

“Don’t tempt me, baby. You know I have no problem taking you right here,” you smile, the blonde smirking as he recalls what happened the morning before he left.

“You are so good to me,” he corrects you. "Y/n, I'm so happy you're mine. I hope you feel that.”

"I'm so happy I'm yours," you smile, spreading a little wider. “Of course, I feel that.”

"You deserve to have the very best, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy, and safe, and loved.” He leans in closer to you, his eyes meeting yours.

"I do… You’re perfect, Rafe.”

“I’m not, princess. But I wanna be for you,” he whispers, swallowing thickly. Your brows rumple as his mood shifts from flirty and light-hearted to serious. His eyes always look bluer when he’s on the verge of tears, yet, his smile contradicts it all. "I got you something."

"Yeah?"

“Mhmm,” he hums and nods as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a blue box.

"Oh my gosh! Rafe Cameron,” you gasp. “It's too much.”

"It's not, princess," he smiles softly. You reach for the box, but he keeps it in his hand, using the other to brush the tears out of his eyes.

"Rafe... Are you okay?" You whisper as you cup his cheek in your hand. He shuts his eyes, relishing in your touch, leaning into you slightly. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again.

"I’m perfect, baby.” He whispers weakly. "Umm... I'm not sure how I'm this in love with you, baby. But I am. And, at this point, I genuinely can't remember a time when I wasn't. Every night since I saw you I fall asleep with you on my mind, and I wonder if you're doing the same. I can't even comprehend losing you, or someone hurting you. I’ve said this once and I’ll say it a million times I don’t trust anyone to protect you but me and that includes your heart too. It's you, princess. It's fucking you. I can't describe it any more than that. You are the only person I want and will ever want. You make me feel safe. You make me feel loved. And since I've met you, sweetheart, you've always been that person. My girl. I can't love anyone else. And, I don't want to. So, with that being said. Y/n, will you marry me?" Rafe moves from the chair, dropping down to one knee, pulling open the box, the Tiffany engagement ring, resting in the center.

Your eyes widen, hand covering your bright, ecstatic smile. "Yes!" You squeal in delight, making Rafe let out a happy chuckle as he glides the jewelry on your finger.

"Yes?"

"Yes! Yes, Rafe! Oh my gosh. I thought it was a necklace," you gasp as you eye the ring on your finger.

"I figured, when you tried to take it from me. I got nervous," he laughs warmly, guiding you to his lips. You smile against his kiss, Rafe doing the same.

"I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Rafe Cameron.”

Bonus smut chapter 💕

Thank you so much for reading my short story! I hoped you enjoyed it 💕🩷

Miski 🩷

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe #obx #rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe x reader #rafe x reader smut #rafe angst #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x fem!reader

122 notes · View notes