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livebeforeyoulearn · 2 months ago

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Room Number Three

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: You're a stripper who captivates Alexia during a performance, leading to an intense and unforgettable private encounter.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in the dim light, the scent of sweat and alcohol hanging thick in the air. Neon strobes flash across the stage, illuminating your form as you swing gracefully around the pole. The metal is cool against your palm as you grip it with confidence, your body moving with practised sensuality. Every movement is deliberate, every spin a testament to the control you have over your body, over this moment. You arch your back, allowing your skin to shimmer under the lights, makeup flawless and accentuating every contour, every glance you steal from the crowd.

Money flutters around you, like confetti, raining down as hands wave bills in the air, drawn to your allure. You feel the eyes on you, feel their hunger, and it fuels you. Your smirk widens, playful and seductive, as you toss your head back, hair falling like a cascade down your bare back. The crowd roars in appreciation, their voices a blur beneath the pulsing music. You own this stage, you own this night.

As you swing back, you catch sight of a new presence entering the club, a group strolling through the entrance. Among them, one figure immediately captures your attention. Alexia, one of the world’s best footballers. Her entrance is confident, commanding, her presence dominating the space even before she fully steps into the room. She’s dressed sharply, a leather jacket slung casually over her shoulders, her eyes already scanning the floor, and then they find you.

You can feel her gaze as soon as it locks on you. It’s intense, a heat that seems to focus entirely on you, setting your skin alight with awareness. Her lips curl into a smirk, her tongue sweeping across them as if she’s savouring something unseen. She moves toward the bar with the ease of someone who knows exactly what they want. When she takes her drink in hand, her eyes never leave you.

You keep dancing, though now there’s a different energy in your movements. You know she’s watching, and you let that knowledge fuel you. Your hips sway, rolling sensuously as you spin around the pole, your eyes half-lidded, confidence oozing from every pore. You’re playing the game, teasing the crowd, but now... now it feels like it’s for her. The smirk you wear is deliberate, almost a challenge, daring her to come closer.

When your performance ends, the applause is deafening. Champagne sprays into the air, glasses clinking, voices raised in excitement, but it all feels muted compared to the buzzing awareness of Alexia still watching you from across the room. You catch her gaze once more before disappearing backstage, your heart racing despite your outward calm.

You're wiping sweat from your brow when your manager approaches. He’s got that look – serious, with a hint of excitement – his eyes flicking down to the clipboard in his hands.

“You’ve got a private dance request,” he says, and your brows immediately furrow.

“What? I thought I didn’t have any tonight.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “They specifically asked for you. Room number three.”

Your heart skips a beat. Private dances aren't your favourite. It's different when it's just you and one person, their eyes on you, watching your every move in that intimate space. The idea of it sets your nerves on edge, though you've done it countless times before. Tonight though, something feels different.

“Fine,” you mutter, shoving down the nerves that threaten to rise. You know the drill. You’ve got a routine for this, an outfit, and a look that sells it every time. This is just another dance.

You slip into the red lingerie set, the fabric tight against your skin, accentuating your curves perfectly. The colour pops against your complexion, the straps framing your body like a work of art. You roll your shoulders back, drawing in a steady breath. The routine is second nature, but that tension still hums beneath your skin. With a final glance in the mirror, you pull the robe over yourself, hiding the revealing outfit as you walk toward room number three.

You pause outside the door, hand hovering on the handle as you take a deep breath. The air feels thicker here, your pulse loud in your ears. You push the door open, the dim lighting casting a soft, sensual glow across the room. A bed, an armchair, and low, rhythmic music playing in the background set the mood.

And there, sitting in the armchair, is Alexia. Her legs are spread wide, her posture relaxed but somehow predatory. Her eyes drink you in the moment you step through the threshold, her lips tugging into a smirk that’s equal parts dangerous and seductive. She bites down on her lower lip, a gleam in her eyes as they roam over your body.

You can feel the weight of her gaze, the way it lingers on your every movement. Her dominance is palpable, even without saying a word. It’s in the way she leans back, her fingers tapping against the arm of the chair as though she’s toying with the very idea of control.

Your heart races, but you pull on your mask – the confident, seductive persona you wear like a second skin in this line of work. You smirk back at her, meeting her gaze head-on, refusing to let her see the way she unnerves you. You step closer, slowly, teasingly, your hands sliding down your body as you undo the knot of your robe. The fabric slips from your shoulders, cascading to the floor in a silky pool, leaving you exposed beneath the dim lights.

Alexia’s eyes darken, and you catch the way her breath hitches slightly as you stand before her, your body on full display. Her lips part, and she leans forward slightly, her gaze burning into you.

Her fingers curl in a beckoning motion, silently commanding you to come closer.

You obey, moving with deliberate slowness, hips swaying as you step closer to her. You’re in control, or at least that’s what you tell yourself as you stand over her, your breasts tantalisingly close to her face. Her eyes don’t leave you for a second, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off her as she leans back, as if daring you to keep going.

Your fingers glide up her shoulders, tracing the leather of her jacket before slipping beneath it to feel the warm skin beneath. Her muscles tense under your touch, and you feel a small thrill at the power you hold in this moment. You walk around her chair, your hands never leaving her body, caressing her neck, her shoulders, letting your breath tickle her ear as you lean in close.

“Like what you see?” you whisper, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

Alexia’s shudder is almost imperceptible, but you feel it. She inhales sharply, and you smile against her skin before pulling back, nipping at her earlobe just hard enough to make her suck in a breath. You keep moving, your fingers ghosting over her arms, her chest, your hips swaying in time with the music. Every move you make is calculated, deliberate, designed to drive her mad.

And it’s working.

Her hands twitch, as if restraining themselves from grabbing you, her jaw clenched tight as she watches you with hunger in her eyes.

You drop into her lap, your thighs straddling her hips as you grind down with a slow, sensual roll. Her hands finally come to life, sliding up your thighs, feeling the heat radiating from your body. Her grip is firm, possessive, and you can feel the tension radiating from her.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” she murmurs, her voice low and filled with desire.

You smirk, your hips grinding down with more purpose now, feeling the intensity of her gaze and the way her hands explore your body. Her fingers brush against your breasts, her thumb tracing the curve of your cleavage, and she looks up at you with a silent question in her eyes.

You nod, giving her permission, and her hands cup your breasts, kneading them with a sense of urgency that makes you gasp. The sensation sends a spark of pleasure through you, your breath hitching as she squeezes tighter.

Your lips ghost over her jaw, your breath hot against her skin. “You like that?” you purr, feeling the way her body reacts beneath you.

Alexia groans, her fingers tightening their grip. “You have no idea.”

You grind down harder, your body responding to her touch, to the way she watches you like she’s about to devour you whole. Heat pools between your legs, and you know she can feel it too, the way your body is betraying your own desire.

“How wet are you?” she growls, her voice rough with want.

The words send a shiver down your spine, but you know the rules – no sex between workers and clients. Still, with her, it’s different. The tension is too thick, the temptation too strong.

“Why don’t you find out?” you challenge, your voice breathless.

Her eyes darken further, and you can feel the shift in the air between you. Alexia’s smirk deepens as she watches you, her dominant energy wrapping around you like a coil. The unspoken tension fills the air, thick with anticipation as her hands tighten on your hips. She’s taking her time, savouring every second of control. Her eyes flick down to your body, and you know she’s planning her next move, deliberately letting you feel the weight of her gaze.

Her hands glide down your sides, moving slowly, tantalisingly. Her fingers graze the edge of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin just above. You feel a jolt of pleasure at the contact, the electricity in her touch igniting the fire already burning between your legs.

She leans forward, her breath hot against your neck as she murmurs, “I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

Your pulse quickens. The moment stretches between you, your body buzzing with anticipation as her hand finally dips lower, sliding under the fabric of your panties. Her touch is slow at first, almost torturous in its teasing, but when her fingers slip between your folds, she groans.

You smirk, knowing exactly what she’s feeling. You’re soaked, slick with arousal, and she’s revelling in it.

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me,” she mutters, her voice rough and thick with desire.

Your hips push forward into her touch, seeking more, the slow buildup becoming too much to handle. She watches you, her thumb now circling your clit in a lazy rhythm, drawing out a low moan from deep within your chest. The tension builds, heat pooling at your core, and you grind into her hand, silently begging for more.

Alexia’s gaze is locked on you, every movement, every breath you take fueling her desire. “Tell me you want it,” she demands, her fingers pressing harder, the pace increasing as her control tightens around you.

“I want it,” you gasp, your voice coming out breathy and filled with need.

Your lips hover over her jaw, your hot breath brushing her skin as you murmur, “I want you.”

The admission is a spark that lights the fire between you. Without hesitation, Alexia’s fingers slide deeper, two of them curling inside you as she pumps them with deliberate intensity. Her thumb remains pressed firmly against your clit, stroking in rhythm with her movements. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can feel your body responding, tightening, clenching around her fingers.

A strangled moan escapes your lips, your body trembling under the intensity of her touch. You lean forward, pressing your lips to her neck, kissing and biting as you feel yourself edging closer to the brink. Your teeth scrape against her skin, eliciting a low growl from deep within her chest.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her free hand gripping your thigh with bruising force. “You’re so fucking hot.”

The words send a fresh wave of desire crashing over you, and you grind harder against her, your hips moving in time with the rhythm she’s set. It’s rough, urgent, and intoxicating. The room fades away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in this intense, consuming moment.

Her lips find your ear again, her voice low and husky. “Are you close?”

You can only nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you teeter on the edge of release. Alexia knows it, and she doesn’t let up. Her fingers move faster, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from your body. You can feel the tension building, your muscles tightening, your entire body trembling as you approach the tipping point.

And then she leans in, her voice a whisper in your ear. “Come for me.”

Her words are the final push, and your body shudders as the orgasm rips through you. Your back arches, and a sharp cry escapes your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you, your muscles clenching around her fingers, your body shaking with the intensity of it. You’re completely lost in the sensation, your mind hazy, your vision blurring as you ride the high, every nerve alight with pleasure.

Alexia watches you, her eyes dark and hungry, her fingers still moving inside you as she draws out every last bit of your release. She doesn’t stop until your body goes limp, your breathing ragged, and your head falls back against her shoulder.

For a moment, there’s silence, the only sound is your heavy breathing and the soft music playing in the background. Alexia’s hand withdraws from your panties, and she brings her fingers to her lips, licking them clean with a satisfied smirk. She leans in, her breath hot against your ear.

“You taste as good as you look,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with lust.

Your body is still trembling, your mind trying to catch up to what just happened. But there’s no time to rest. Before you can fully process it, Alexia grips your hips, lifting you off her lap with ease. Her strength is undeniable, and it sends another thrill of excitement through you as she stands, carrying you over to the bed.

She lays you down, her eyes raking over your body with a predatory hunger that makes your pulse race again. You watch her as she steps back, peeling off her jacket, her movements slow and deliberate, giving you time to take in every inch of her. Her muscles flex under her shirt as she pulls it off, revealing a lean, toned body that only adds to her commanding presence.

She smirks down at you, her eyes filled with dark intent. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your heart skips a beat as she reaches for your panties, her fingers curling around the waistband. She tugs them down slowly, letting them slide off your legs before tossing them aside. You’re completely exposed now, laid out before her, vulnerable and aching for more.

She kneels between your legs, her hands gliding up your thighs with deliberate slowness, teasing you, making you squirm beneath her touch. When she finally lowers her mouth to your core, the first swipe of her tongue sends a shock of pleasure through you.

You gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as she licks you with a precision that borders on maddening. Her tongue flicks over your clit, alternating between soft, teasing licks and harder, more demanding movements. You can feel her lips wrap around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking gently before releasing, only to dive back in with renewed fervour.

Alexia is relentless, her mouth working you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Your body arches off the bed, your thighs trembling as pleasure builds again, this time faster, harder. You’re already so sensitive from the first orgasm, but she doesn’t care. She’s determined to push you further, to break you.

Her fingers slip inside you again, curling just right, and you let out a strangled moan. The combination of her fingers pumping inside you and her tongue lashing at your clit is overwhelming, the pleasure too much to contain.

You can feel yourself unravelling, your body giving in to the relentless waves of ecstasy she’s forcing upon you. Your breathing quickens, and you know you’re close again, teetering on the edge, your muscles tightening as you hurtle toward another release.

Alexia doesn’t let up. If anything, she only increases the pace, her fingers moving faster, her tongue flicking harder. It’s too much, and yet you crave more.

“Alexia,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper.

Her name on your lips seems to spur her on. She growls softly against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You’re right there, on the brink, your entire body tense as you prepare to shatter beneath her touch.

And then it hits you.

Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing as you cry out, your vision going white with the intensity of it. You’re trembling uncontrollably, your thighs clamping around her head as she continues to work you through it, her fingers still pumping inside you, her tongue relentless against your clit.

Your body is on fire, every nerve alive with sensation as the orgasm wracks through you. You’re completely undone, reduced to a moaning, trembling mess beneath her.

When you finally come down, gasping for air, Alexia pulls away, her lips and chin glistening with your release. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking down at you, clearly satisfied with her work.

You’re barely able to catch your breath, your body still tingling from the aftershocks of pleasure. But the look in her eyes tells you she’s far from finished.

She climbs onto the bed, her body hovering over yours, her breath warm against your skin as she leans in to kiss you. The taste of yourself on her lips is intoxicating, and you melt into the kiss, your body still sensitive, still aching for more.

The night stretches on, a blur of passion and intensity as Alexia takes you again and again, using you in every way she desires. You lose track of time, lost in the haze of pleasure, your body responding to her every touch, her every command.

By the time the night finally ends, you’re spent, your body exhausted and trembling, your mind spinning with the intensity of it all.

Alexia dresses quickly, her movements efficient and calm, as if the heat between you didn’t leave you both in shambles. Without a word, she throws her jacket back over her shoulders, casting one last glance at your body lying on the bed, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

And then she leaves.

You’re left alone in the dimly lit room, your chest still rising and falling with uneven breaths as the reality of the night begins to sink in. The room is thick with the lingering scent of sweat, sex, and desire, the echo of Alexia’s touch still humming under your skin. You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the heat of the moment ebb away, replaced by the cool stillness of the aftermath.

Your body aches, a pleasant soreness spreading through your limbs, but it’s your mind that races, struggling to process everything that’s just happened. Every second of the encounter replays in vivid detail: the way Alexia commanded your body, the raw hunger in her eyes, the way she tore you apart and put you back together again with nothing more than her touch.

The memory of her lips on yours, her fingers deep inside you, makes your stomach flutter all over again. You close your eyes, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. You can still taste her on your tongue, the faint hint of alcohol mixed with something darker, more primal.

The room feels too quiet now, too still. The sensual music that once filled the air has long since faded into the background, replaced by the low hum of distant voices and muffled laughter outside. The club is still alive beyond these walls, a world of chaos and pleasure continuing without you.

But here, in the intimacy of this private room, it feels like time has stopped.

You sit up slowly, your muscles protesting the movement, and pull the sheets around yourself. The cool fabric is a sharp contrast to the warmth of Alexia’s body that had been pressed against you just moments ago. The absence of her is almost startling.

For a moment, you wonder what it all meant. Was it just a fleeting encounter for her? Just another conquest in a night of indulgence? The way she left, so effortlessly, without a word, makes you feel strangely hollow. It was as if she’d taken a part of you with her when she walked out the door.

Your thoughts swirl as you drag a hand through your hair, the messy strands a reminder of how thoroughly undone she’d left you. You try to push the questions away, but they linger, dancing around the edges of your mind like a temptation you can’t resist.

You knew what this was supposed to be. It’s not your first night at the club, not the first time a customer has wanted more than a performance. But something about Alexia was different, more intense, more consuming.

It wasn’t just the way she looked at you, though that was enough to make your heart race. It was the way she touched you, with purpose, like she knew exactly what she wanted and how to take it from you. There was something about the way she made you feel completely vulnerable and yet more alive than you’d ever felt before.

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of lust still clouding your thoughts. This was just business, just another night at the club, another performance – right? But deep down, you can’t help but wonder if it was more than that, if Alexia felt the same fire you did.

The door to the room creaks open slightly, and you glance up, half-expecting to see her silhouette framed in the doorway. But it’s not her. It’s your manager, poking his head inside with an expression that’s half-curious, half-concerned.

“Everything good in here?” he asks, his voice cutting through the haze.

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you nod. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

He raises an eyebrow, glancing around the room as if searching for some sign of what just transpired. You know he can’t possibly understand the storm of emotions swirling inside you, but still, there’s something in his gaze that makes you feel exposed.

“Good,” he says, with a casual shrug. “Client seemed satisfied. Paid well, too.”

Your stomach twists at the mention of Alexia, but you keep your expression neutral, nodding again. “That’s good,” you murmur, though the words feel hollow in your mouth.

He steps back, giving you a quick nod before turning to leave. The door clicks shut behind him, and once again, you’re alone.

Alone with your thoughts. Alone with the memory of Alexia’s hands on your skin, the taste of her still fresh in your mind.

You stand slowly, gathering the robe from where it had fallen earlier. Your legs are still shaky as you pull it around your body, the fabric soft against your sensitive skin. You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself, trying to shake off the lingering effects of her touch.

But no matter how much you try to push it aside, you can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looked at you with that confident, almost arrogant smirk. The way her hands moved over your body like she owned you, like you were hers to command.

And the way you responded – without hesitation, without question. You let her take control, and it felt good. Too good.

You start to gather your things, preparing to leave the room, but the weight of the night clings to you. The low lighting, the scent of her on your skin, the feel of her fingers still ghosting over your body – it’s all too much.

As you make your way down the hallway, the sounds of the club grow louder, the energy more chaotic. But it feels distant, like you’re walking through a fog. Your mind is still trapped in that room, replaying every moment, every breath, every touch.

You reach the dressing room and collapse onto the bench, your heart still racing, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. The other dancers move around you, chatting, laughing, their voices blending into the background.

But all you can think about is her. Alexia.

A part of you wants to shake it off, to move on, to treat it like just another night at the club. But the truth is, you know something has shifted. Something inside you has changed. And you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see her again. If she’ll walk back through those doors, her confident swagger drawing every eye in the room, her gaze locking onto yours with that same hungry intensity.

And if she does – will you be ready for it?

You lean back against the wall, closing your eyes as you let out a long, shaky breath. Your heart still pounds in your chest, your body still tingling with the memory of her touch. It’s over. The night is done.

And as you sit there, lost in your thoughts, you can’t help but smile – because deep down, you know that if she ever comes back, you’ll be ready.

Ready to surrender to her all over again.

part 2

#alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso smut #woso one shot #alexia x reader #woso #spain wnt #la reina #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #espwnt #espwnt x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso community

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tj-crochets · 2 months ago

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I was unable to get my ID updated today (forgot a document, too dizzy/nauseous/migraine from the flashing light to go back), but I did go shopping with my mom for a bit and got a muffin tin (to replace my old one, which is both rusting and falling apart) so I can make muffins again! I also got a black denim jacket on super mega clearance to have fun embroidering but I haven't quite decided how I want to embroider it

Hey fun question, how are you supposed to get your ID if the flashing lights from ID photos disorient you really badly when you walk in the door?

#the person behind the yarn #my current plan is instead of confetti rainbow and flowers (like on my regular denim jacket)#maybe Big Swirls a la starry night #but rainbow? on the black jacket sleeves #maybe with some flowers on the collar #the inverse of the blue denim jacket #which has rainbow shoulders and flower cuffs

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toytle · 6 months ago

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happy birthday barry allen‼️*

(*2 ‼️ so he knows i’m wayy happier than 1 ❗️)

[alt text ID, close-ups + ID below cut]

Image 1: Fanart of Barry Allen from DC Super Hero Girls celebrating his birthday. He has acne and lightning highlights in his eyes, as well as lightning bolt blush, lightning-shaped eyebrows, and wing-like tufts of hair tucked behind his ears. He’s wearing a birthday hat and red jacket, holding out a race car birthday cake with 17th candles in an awed expression. The cake reads: “Happy Birthday Bartholomew!!” Behind him are various balloons creating a frame around him. To the side are panels containing simplified moments of Barry throughout his birthday party. The first is a pink panel where someone puts the birthday hat on him. The second is a green panel where he blows a party horn with chipmunk cheeks and a scrunched up expression. The last is a blue panel where his friends stack a pile of gifts into his arms, his face barely peeking through. Confetti is strewn about everywhere.

Images 2-4: Closeups of Barry’s face, the 3 side panels, and the cake, respectively.

VIDEO ID: A clip from DC Super Hero Girls where Barry frets over his birthday card for his nana. He had originally written only 1 exclamation point on the card, even though he was “way happier than that,” so he quickly adds another exclamation point to “stop being so burdened all the time.”

#dcshg #dc super hero girls #barry allen #the flash #dc #dc comics #dc fanart #detective comics #danart #alt text #described #the cake was meant to be a reference to the sportscar cake in flashpoint but it ended up as a lightning mcqueen cake instead #same difference #i love that he gets 2 bdays it’s like a double holiday for me

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taylorswiftstyle · 23 days ago

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The Eras Tour | Midnights section | Version 7

Jenny Packham custom dress and coat

In a night full of plot twists (Exhibit A: There will be no explanation there will just be a second reputation bodysuit), the one that actually has me the most stumped is this designer switch during the Midnights set.

Taylor has worn a number of sparkling “Anti-Hero” shirt dresses that are a blink-and-you-miss-it moment in the show. She only briefly wears this piece right before a dramatic on-stage costume change that leads into “Midnight Rain”. All of the dresses, including the coordinating faux fur shag jacket, have been by Oscar de la Renta. Until now, that is, with this new addition by Jenny Packham - coat included.

On a personal note, it’s such a thrill to see Jenny Packham’s designs brought back into Taylor’s rotation. She used to wear a number of JP pieces back in the day, mostly from 2010-2013 and typically as sparkling performance wear. One thing I’ve often noted is how Eras Tour costuming excels at referencing and refreshing the iconic designs of Taylor’s past. This feels like a more subtle and IYKYK moment to tap one of Taylor’s earliest designer loves for a moment on the Eras Tour stage.

The “Anti-Hero” dresses themselves are a wily bunch, both because they’re only worn for a short period and also because their fabrication and sparkle factor make it a little tough to tell them apart. Thus far, we have received (nicknames are patent pending /joke): Confetti, Blue, Pink, Purple, “Rainbow Fish” / Iridescent, Dark Purple and now a new colourway which I will call “Purple Confetti” because its lavender base and chunky Swarovski crystals and paillette embroidery falls close to the original Version 1 Confetti of this dress. The coordinating lavender and “aurora borealis” faux fur jacket also came with matching paillette embroidery.

Which “Anti-Hero” dress is your fave?

Photo by John Shearer/TAS24 via Getty Images

#taylor swift #tour #dress #outerwear #jenny packham #eras tour

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austinbutlerslovers · 23 days ago

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The Chase

Label Mature 18+

🎃 Kinktober One Shot

Summary Benny Cross chases you through the streets on his motorcycle but once he catches you the fun really begins.

🧡Depraved Smut🧡 Dubcon• fingering •P in V• orgasm 🔗 Master List

🎂 Happy Birthday @austinbutlerfly 🎂 (have a fun day ☺️) 📖 Proof reader @purejasmine

@megangovier Thank you so much it’s perfect for October 🧡

The Chase

The autumn night air is filled with excitement, the streets of Chicago alive for a parade. People are cheering and laughing, their voices rising in excitement as the floats glide by.

But you have no interest in the light festivities, you are looking for a different kind of thrill.

You move swiftly through the crowded sidewalks, dodging groups of people, the cool breeze biting at your skin.

The music fills the air loudly as people clap along, but you keep your head down, weaving through the chaos.

You walk into a crowded diner, the smell of fries and coffee filling the air as the usual crowd bustles in and out.

You go straight to the jukebox, flipping through the vinyls trying to make a selection—and that’s when you see him the moment he walks in.

—Benny Cross

He was impossible to miss, all swagger and confidence, his leather jacket on his broad shoulders like a second skin.

The jean vest he wore over his jacket wasn’t just for show either—it bore the unmistakable insignia of his biker crew, the Vandals.

They were infamous in Chicago, the name carrying weight in each corner of the city, and everyone knew to keep their head down as he walked past.

But Benny was the kind of trouble you couldn’t ignore—handsome in a way that made you look twice, and tonight, that trouble set his eyes directly on you.

He scanned the diner as he came in, looking at you for just a moment, a slow, knowing smile on his lips.

And that was all it took.

Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was just the way his eyes lingered on you for that one moment, but you were mesmerized.

You should’ve left well enough alone, you should’ve looked away, but something in you couldn’t help it—the thrill, the danger, the way Benny Cross made your heart race.

So as you walk past him, you make sure to bump into him, casual enough not to raise suspicion but just enough to get close.

Your hand slips into his back pocket with a practiced ease, your fingers curling around the leather of his wallet. He doesn’t notice, not immediately anyway—because who would ever steal from Benny Cross?

By the time you walk was past him, its already in your jacket, your heart pounding.

You dont look back. You couldn’t.

You know you shouldn’t have done it, but it doesn’t matter now. What matters is you got away with getting your quick thrill… or so you thought.

The parade has just ended, and the streets are littered with streamers and confetti, the crowd slowly dispersing as people head home in small groups, their laughter and voices carrying into the night.

-That’s when you hear it.

The echo of Benny’s motorcycle roaring through the streets behind you, the engine a low, menacing growl that cuts right through the cool October air.

Your heartbeat quickens—because you know he’s figured it out and you know exactly what he wants now.

-He’s after you!

Without warning, you break into a sprint, quickly weaving through clusters of people, your breaths coming in fast, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You can hear Benny’s bike as he tracks you and he’s getting close—too close.

And that’s when you realize you’ve run too far ahead of the crowd, singling yourself out.

—Bad luck.

Benny spots you right away, the sound of his bike engine revving kicks your adrenaline into overdrive.

Gasping for breath you see an alley ahead and push your self faster, your heart pounding against your ribs as you dash in.

You’re trying to put as much distance between you and Benny as possible, but his engine only grows louder and you throw a glance over your shoulder to be sure.

—Bad idea.

Benny is right there, his eyes locked on you as he leans in on his bike turning into the alley, his headlight illuminating your every move.

He isn’t just catching up—he’s on you!

Every time the bike revs, it sends a jolt of panic through you the sound echoing loudly off the alley walls pushing you forward, making your heart hammer even harder in your chest.

You exhale, glancing around desperately for some escape route.

Ahead, the alley narrows, the walls closing in, dumpsters and crates forming an obstacle in your path and you know he won’t be able to follow you through on that bike.

You easily weave through the clutter, your breaths coming in quick as you do.

But just as you clear the blockage, the sound of his engine cuts abruptly, and you hear the heavy thud of his boots hitting the pavement.

—He’s coming after you on foot!

Benny Cross is running full-speed at you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement, and he’s much faster than you, he’s right behind you!

“Hey fucking stop!” he shouts, his voice dark with malice, the sound cutting through the alley.

Your chest is heaving, your veins going cold with dread seeing the alley closing to a dead end.

Your hand goes into your pocket, feeling the wallet you’d taken, wondering if it was all worth it now.

Before you can make another move, Bennys hand grips the collar of your jacket, yanking you back. You stumble forward gasping for breath, as his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him.

“I said stop!” Benny yells, turning and pushing you against the cold brick wall of the alley.

His body cages you in, his grip firm and unrelenting as his steely blue eyes burn with a fierce anger, making it clear he isn’t letting you get away.

“What do you think you’re doing, hm?” he asks, his eyes searching your face in the dim lighting.

Your chest is heaving, still trying to catch your breath, and you don’t even answer, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through you, your pulse thundering in your ears.

There’s a shift in his expression as he looks at you, his intrigue growing as his gaze lingers on your features and then his eyes slowly trail down your body.

His hand reaches into your jacket pocket, fingers brushing against yours as he pulls his stolen wallet from your grasp, his gaze lingering intensely as he holds it up between you.

“You thought you could get away with this?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue as he returns it securely to his back pocket.

You shoot him a defiant look, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Maybe …I wasn’t trying to get away,” you retort, your breath catching feeling a wave of heat flood through you having him so close.

He’s pressed against you, the scent of leather and a faint trace of smoke clinging to him, making him even more intoxicating.

“What were you trying to do then?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, his gaze deepening as it sweeps over you, taking in every small reaction.

You look up at him, your face flushed as your lips part, because in the midst of everything, the truth is undeniable—you are drawn to him—irresistibly attracted to his danger in every way, and now you have him.

He catches it, that spark of attraction, his eyes shifting with a subtle recognition as the tension between you changes into a different kind of charge.

His gaze lingers on your parted lips as you hesitate to answer and a slow knowing grin spreads across his face.

He leans in close, so close that his lips brush the shell of your ear. “The next time you want my attention,” he whispers, the words slow, savoring the moment as his grip on your jacket loosens “…just ask for it.”

His words hit you like a spark to kindling, igniting a rush of heat that spreads through your entire body. His attention is exactly what you want.

His eyes lock with yours now fully aware of the effect he has on you and his fingers lightly begin to trail down your body with an agonizing slowness.

His touch is soft, almost intimate, as his hand glides down to your waist but it carries the weight of his dominance—an unspoken reminder that he’s caught you and isn’t about to let you forget it.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing, your heart racing in your chest as his hand lingers, just barely grazing your side, the contact sending sparks of heat through you.

“I should be mad,” he muses, sliding his thumb along your waist, testing the limits of how far he can push.

“But I think I like the way you play,” he reveals, his fingertips slipping into the waist band of your skirt.

His touch is confident and knowing, making it impossible to ignore his intentions, and the way he looks at you makes it clear—he’s in control, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

You bite your lip, the urge to lean into his touch becoming overwhelming as a surge of adrenaline rushes through you reminding you of the chase that led you here.

“You like playing with danger?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes, and the way he looks at you tells you everything you need to know.

—He’s going to take what he wants.

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your lips as he says, “Well, now you’ve got it,” his voice rough and heavy with need and you don’t even try to stop him as he leans in, his lips claiming yours in a hard, possessive kiss.

His other hand dips to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him and you gasp against his mouth as his hand slips lower, his fingers grazing your panties as if daring you to deny him.

“You should’ve known better,” he whispers against your lips, his voice dark and intense. “Taking what’s mine… this is what happens.” He confirms his hand gliding lower.

You barely have time to react before his fingers push their way into your panties. The alley beyond you becoming nothing but a blur as his fingers thrust into you rough and urgent, like he can’t get enough.

His mouth moves to your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin as he thrusts them even harder inside you, the slick wetness coating his fingers.

You let out a low moan, feeling how soaked you are as the pressure builds between your thighs, his touch igniting something deep and uncontrollable within you.

“You like getting caught?” he rasps, his voice low and taunting, his breath hot and heavy against your ear and his fingers thrust faster, relentless now, his control slipping as his own need takes over.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp, the word barely a whisper, almost lost in the rush of sensation overwhelming you.

“I thought so,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear, his fingers thrusting faster bringing you close to the edge.

“Gonna teach you a lesson about me” he says with a rough grip pulling your thigh up and pressing you harder against the brick wall, his body closing the space between you.

“You’re gonna take this lesson well,” he rasps as his other hand moves quickly, yanking down his zipper.

In one swift motion, he pulls your panties aside, his fingers slipping away, only to be replaced by the hard urgent tip of his cock.

You cry out as he pushes into you with one powerful thrust. He’s raw and unyielding—his pace rushed as his body claims yours without hesitation.

A moan rises in your throat, your breath quickening as your muscles tighten around him. Each thrust igniting a fire in you as he takes control.

“You wanna take something from me?... I’ll give you something to take,” he whispers against your ear, his voice dark and teasing.

With a sudden forceful thrust, he drives into you harder, pressing you firmly against the rough brick wall and a loud moan escapes your lips, as the pleasure floods through you.

The heat of him, the roughness of him, the way his lips claim yours again—it all blurs together until you can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the way he makes you feel.

The tension coils tighter and tighter within you until his intensity is consuming every thought, every breath.

Before you know it, you begin to orgasm, your face pressing to his shoulder as desperate cries escape your lips feeling the waves of pleasure over take you.

Your inner walls tighten on his cock pulsing with each thrust, and you begin to loudly moan against him drawing him in deeper as you ride out the high.

Benny groans from his chest as he pulls out, his grip tightening on your hip.

His other hand wraps around his cock, roughly stroking it as he comes hard, his release spilling in thick streams along the alley way floor.

For a long moment, neither of you move, breaths still heavy and uneven as you come down from the intensity of the moment.

Benny leans back slightly, as he catches his breath. A smug grin on his lips as if he’s just won some kind of prize.

His fingers linger on your waist for just a second longer, as if to remind you he could take more if he wanted.

Then with a satisfied smile, he leans close, his lips grazing your ear.

“Next time you think of taking something from me you better ask first.” He whispers as he tucks his cock away in his jeans. “Or you better be ready to handle the consequences.” He adds with a wicked grin.

His words are a challenge, laced with danger and excitement, making your pulse race as you feel the weight of his promise linger in the air between you.

As you begin to straighten your skirt he steps back, that same easy confidence in his stride as he heads back toward his motorcycle.

He gives you one last look as he kick starts the engine, his grin still firmly in place, the silent promise in his eyes.

The intensity of his gaze makes it clear—he’s daring you to push him, and you know he’s more than ready to make you pay for it.

The roar of his engine echoes down the alley as he rides off, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your chest, and you bite your lip as you watch him go, knowing full well this isn’t the last time you’ll make Benny Cross chase after you.

🎃 End 🎃

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️Always Tag Me List @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @magicovento @umika @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @psycheetamore @aust-een @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @feralgodmothers @finley-08 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @ifuckindontknow @kaelatargaryen @darknightmareobject

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List @ashelybutler @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @fallout-girl219

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1d1195 · 1 month ago

Text

Honey VIII

Read Honey here | ~6.3k words

From me: Last part! Glad you enjoyed! 💕

Warnings: angst, blood, hospital stuff, some fluff. I actually think it's terrible so I apologize if you're like 'this is the dumbest thing I've ever read.'

Summary: “Please, love. Cece needs you,” he whispered.

She shook her head at the thought. Cece didn’t need her. She was just the nanny.

“You’re not just the nanny.”

Harry was already suspicious when the alarm company called him and there was no subsequent text from Miss Honey. It was evident the power had gone out again. But he headed home to make sure things were okay. Only because he knew the service was so spotty when the power went out. Harry didn’t think anything of it because his mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts of the pretty girl that loved his daughter and tasted better than he ever could have imagined.

Despite their awkward breakfast, he was pretty sure her duties would come first. Even if he was planning on letting her go.

It took a lot of thought over the last few days, but he decided he couldn’t be in love with someone who worked for him. He couldn’t have sex with someone he was paying to live there. It felt wrong ten times over. She wouldn’t be his nanny anymore, but he was praying it wouldn’t mean she would be leaving his house any time soon, either.

Harry was so distracted by his thoughts of telling her right when he got in that he didn’t even notice the light at the end of the driveway was on.

When he pulled into the driveway he hurried out of the car and rushed through the house. “Hey love,” he called. “Everything okay? The power is probably still weird from the storm...” he was shedding his jacket, his work bag tossed to the side. He threw his lunch bag down too, clunking with the Tupperware he brought home from Niall and himself. “Listen, we gotta talk—”

All thoughts of said talk were gone when he approached the sitting room.

The shattered glass of one of his windows decorated the floor like the worst confetti he could possibly imagine. Her phone was on the counter displaying exactly zero of the tens of texts and calls Harry had sent her. And her smart watch was tossed haphazardly on the ground, leading toward the backdoor.

Perhaps of course, most notably and most terrifyingly, there was no sign of Cece.

Harry felt a thousand emotions course through him. He wanted to scream and claw his heart out to make it stop hurting. Doubt clouded his mind briefly and nearly brought him to his knees. His trust wavering again. Was it all a trick? No. Never. It couldn’t have been. That was... that wasn’t something that could be faked.

Dinner wasn’t awaiting him, and he hadn’t even come to expect it but now that it wasn’t there, he hated the way he felt. Aching and longing for something he didn’t want—didn’t think he could have. She was supposed to have Cece wrapped around her pretty body, kissing her hair, and telling her how to make whatever was on the menu for the evening. He was supposed to be falling for how pretty she looked with his baby, their baby. Because Cece and Harry didn’t stand a chance. They fell for her. Hard.

Something happening to his baby made him nauseous and weak. His hands were shaking as he reached for his phone but was met without service. One of the last untraumatized brain cells in his mind began to take over. A slow rational thought. What if doubt wasn’t needed? What if she was in danger as much as Cece? Harry felt his stomach churn violently again. A film of sweat coated every inch of his body at once.

Right as he sincerely thought he was going to throw up or pass out, there was a faint muffled sound.

The sound of crying.

If the house wasn’t silent, even if there was only the hum of the refrigerator, he might have missed it. But it was silent. Not a sound. Except a cry.

Harry sprinted up the steps. Taking two at a time and listening to the muffled noise. He hurried to his bedroom. He noted his journal was askew on his bed, open and spine bent; a pen tossed against the comforter as well. The crying was louder, coming from his closet.

He nearly ripped the door off the hinges and crouched down to the little one on the floor. “Oh, baby girl,” he cooed and the relief he felt was so crushing he still thought he might pass out. The relief was downright overwhelming. The whooshing in his ears was so loud. He was a little worried he might drop poor Cece in his dizziness. “S’okay, baby. Daddy’s here,” he kissed her wet cheeks. He was saddened by how tear-soaked they were. “M’here,” his voice cracked as he pressed his lips along her face. “M’sorry, sweet girl.”

It was so dark in his room, and he wanted to see her and make sure she was physically okay. He couldn’t hold Cece close enough. His heart felt the slightest bit better—marginally. “What happened, baby?” He frowned. Her little sobs started to subside.

He turned the flashlight on his phone and glanced around the dark closet. Harry noted Cece’s favorite little stuffy first. Purposefully placed right where he scooped her up from. Harry grabbed it, handing it to Cece now that she had calmed down a bit. Her little shoulders shaking made his heart hurt.

His eyes noted the piece of paper ripped from his journal next. Her handwriting wasn’t neat and pretty like he had seen in recipes or the notes she left writing Dada and Niall on lunches. This was scribbled quickly, messy. Hurried.

H—

I’m SO sorry, I saw something... I hid her.

His stomach rolled. New fear taking over but just as powerful as the one he felt about Cece. Maybe worse in some ways. Because at least he knew where Cece was and knew that she did everything she could to keep her safe.

“Cece,” he croaked. Harry wanted her to stay little forever. But right then, he wished she could speak. “Where’s Miss Honey?”

The police investigation was just like a movie. There were more people at his house than he could fathom. There were telephones with secured lines tracking and pinging possible leads. The power was back on, and the security company sent the footage they had directly to the police.

Often kidnappings that lasted over twenty-four hours didn’t bode well.

So, when hour forty-three approached Harry was feeling beyond helpless, beyond hopeless. Cece losing the most maternal figure in her life made him feel like death warmed over. He didn’t answer a single work call. He couldn’t. His only thoughts were of her and how fucked up it felt. Anne and Gemma came and took Cece. Niall was watching the company and spending as much time with Harry as humanly possible.

He raked his hands through his hair again trying to piece together the image of the two men in masks that he had been staring at for the last thirty hours wondering who would want to hurt him so badly.

They were good. Even if they were dumb enough to take safety away from Harry.

The human body could last about three days without water. He prayed that whoever took the sweet girl didn’t want her dead as it approached day two.

Her head was killing her. This was the worst hangover she ever felt. Her body felt weak. She tried to lick her lips, but her tongue felt just as dry. The floor was cold and the time asleep felt like nothing. The voices down the hall were back. They had been coming back and forth for the time she had been here. Deciding if killing her was faster than letting her just die naturally. Painfully.

Her blinks felt slow. The cramps in her stomach and legs didn’t even hurt anymore. She hoped Cece was okay and that Harry didn’t hate her for leaving her alone. Cece wasn’t alone for long—at least she hoped she wasn’t. Hopefully Harry found her shortly after she was yanked out of his home. Cece would have woken up alone in the dark and it made her stomach hurt worse than the hunger pains or dehydration setting in.

How long had it been? Time didn’t have meaning anymore, but she wasn’t stupid. Without water, she was fucked. She was merely collateral damage. Nothing more. Cece was safe. That was what she needed to remember and hold onto while her mind played tricks on her. They didn’t care about her—that much was obvious. She was cold, dehydrated, exhausted, and worried.

Harry was going to hate her. What if they went back for Cece? What if it wasn’t enough? If she had the physiology to produce tears and didn’t lack liquid, she would have cried.

“Hey love,” Harry whispered. She knew it was a figment of her imagination. Without water she was hallucinating. She didn’t answer him. It was too painful. “Y’need t’get out of here,” his voice had a pleading tone to it. But she was tired. She could barely move... let alone think. “Please, love. Cece needs you,” he whispered.

She shook her head at the thought. Cece didn’t need her. She was just the nanny.

“You’re not just the nanny.”

Hope infiltrated her heart. It was so unfair the hallucination would dangle that line of thinking in front of her. Even if it was her own subconscious trying to convince her. But she was. Harry had Cece. That’s what mattered more than anything else. Her family had hardly seen her in years. “C’mon, baby, please,” he begged.

She slowly sat up against the wall and it felt like she was going to fall right back over. Her eyelids fluttered, aching to close with how exhausted she felt. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Now y’gotta stand,” he reminded her. She swayed too much to feel like she had the strength to stand. But somehow, she did. Leaning back along the wall. Her hands were tied behind her. Her feet duct taped together. The voices from the other side of the house had disappeared again, a door closed. Faintly, she heard the crunch of gravel and tires exiting the driving away. She was alone again.

There was no furniture in the room, but she had been staring at the same four walls for who knew how long and there was nothing she could do to escape.

But there had to be something right?

The Harry she had conjured up was silent as he watched her. Even her brain was too tired, half alive, to make him talk. Moving painfully slow across the room wiggling awkwardly so she didn’t fall flat on her face with her feet duct taped together. She stared out the window. Freedom so close she could cry. It was her only hope, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She stared at the sill, the panes, through exhausted eyes. The strength it took to stand was hard. There was no way she could bust out the glass if she wanted to. “I know, baby, but y’gotta figure it out,” Harry begged.

She dropped onto the ground again, worried she would disappoint her hallucination. But only finally saw a glimmer of hope when she thought about passing out again. Her butt ached because she still hadn’t fully healed from the bruise she got from her fall in Harry’s office. She rolled onto her side and felt around for the metal heat vent cover protruding from the wall that she caught a glance of when she thought about falling onto the ground and just giving up.

She felt behind her, blindly and awkwardly, with her fingers for the lip of the cover closest to the floor. She pulled on it, hoping it was sharp. It was, given it sliced her finger making her hiss. She aimed lower on her arm. Getting the corner of the cover to line up with her wrists, she slowly sawed through. It cut her arm several times and now she worried on top of dehydration she was going to lose some blood too. Hopefully the cuts weren’t too deep, but her body was nearing numbness from how tired she was and she had no way of knowing how hard she injured herself from behind. She hoped this wasn’t part of her hallucination because it would be entirely unfair to make it out in her head only to continue to be trapped.

Once her arms were free, her shoulders felt achy, and she cried out at the relief of stretching them forward. Because of the blood, it was hard to get the duct tape to peel at her ankles. It took even longer for it to rip off. She stood again, bracing herself on the windowsill. She lifted her sore arm to unlock the window in the middle of the panes. She pushed on the window, but it stuck. She whimpered. “You can do it,” he whispered. “C’mon, kitten, you’re almost there. I’ll come find you, I promise.” Her hallucination was so nice she thought about just laying back down and letting him lull her to sleep. “No, no,” he shook his head. “You’re almost out, baby. I promise.”

She groaned and pushed the window out of the way enough to wiggle her body through. She fell to ground outside with a thud and she again, strongly considered just lying there on the cold dirt because it felt better than trying to stand. “One more time, kitten. M’not too far.”

How could her hallucination possibly know he wasn’t too far? That was a horrible thing to allow herself to hope. But she stood, half blind from her exhaustion. Then followed the tire tracks out of the driveway and down the dirt road. She was sure she looked drunk. Or maybe more like a zombie. But she just wanted to find someone. She was aching everywhere and felt weaker than when she was laying down. Her heartbeat was too fast, the blood she had in her system sounded like a hurricane in her ears.

She could have walked only fifty steps down that road, or she could have walked a mile. She wasn’t sure. Time was different now. Like it was moving backwards, forwards, and standing still all at once.

There was the sound of tires and she was so tired, her eyes barely opened. So scared and exhausted. Even her hallucination had abandoned her. It was over. She was done for, so it didn’t matter how tired she was. How hopeful she was. She dropped to one knee and then the other. Her body crumpling under her own weight. Right before her head smacked into the hard ground something caught her.

“Holy shit,” it felt weird that she would suddenly hallucinate Niall’s voice as well. That didn’t seem fair to Harry.

“Oh my God,” Harry whispered. His hallucination was so close to her face. She could smell his breath, minty. She sighed with relief, melting into his imaginary body. He was warm, solid, and she was glad he was there even if it was just her imagination allowing her one last moment with Harry regardless of if he was real or not.

Then she was floating, and she was sure she had died.

Harry stepped into her hospital room after they completed their tests. He had been waiting impatiently for the okay to see her once she woke up. It had been hours of pacing. The drive from the place he found her nearly crumpling, half-conscious was terrifying beyond anything he could have imagined. He cradled her in his arms in the backseat practically sobbing as it felt like Niall was purposefully driving slower to the hospital. Harry was so scared; he used a napkin to dab water on her lips as she slipped in and out of a wakeful state. “We’re almost there, sweetheart, please hang on,” he begged and pushed her hair away from her eyes. Harry got blood on his clothes that dripped from her fingers and wrists. Harry wanted to scream.

But now, she looked better, and he didn’t want to think about that drive again as long as he lived. She was severely dehydrated. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her skin was paler than normal but was slowly returning to her natural color. He was so grateful she was alive and there.

In every sense of the word, she was so beautiful it practically hurt him to look at her.

The second their gaze connected she began sobbing.

“I’m. So. Sorry.” She sniveled. “Is she okay?! Please tell me that she’s okay. No one has told me. I swear I’m going to be sick,” she moaned. “Please, please, please—”

Harry grabbed her hand quickly and squeezed it. “She’s perfect, love,” he whispered softly, reassuringly. Carefully, he cupped her face, wiping his thumb on her cheek soothingly. “Not a hair out of place.”

Her relief just caused more tears to fall. “You’re sure? You took her to a doctor? I left her alone, Harry. After you told me that...” her voice choked off, shaking her head, and looking at her hands. “She didn’t get a UTI? She wasn’t dehydrated from being stuck in—?“

“Miss Honey,” Harry murmured unable to keep the adoration out of his voice as he said the nickname of the sweet girl. “She’s fine. We’re going t’worry ‘bout you for a bit,” he squeezed her hand encouragingly. “You had me scared, love. More than that. I thought I lost you. That was terrifying.”

She sniffled, her shoulders shaking while she tried to wipe her eyes, but the tears were too quick. “Can I see her?”

“She’s with m’mum,” he assured her. “I just want t’make sure that y’were—”

“Please?” She begged.

“Love, she’s—”

“Please, please, Harry. Please,” she sobbed. “We can go right—” She started to pick at the tape over the IV and wires in her arm and hand.

“Hey,” Harry quickly grabbed her antsy hands. He looked her in the eyes and cupped the side of her face. “Love,” he whispered trying to calm her.

“Please,” she sniveled.

God. She would burn the whole city down. Harry was putty to her begging. He pulled his phone out and FaceTimed his mother. “Hey Mum, can we see Miss Cecelia?” He asked in greeting. At the same time, he squeezed her hand encouragingly.

“Look Cece, it’s Dada,” Anne kissed the top of her head. Harry felt relief himself, knowing she was okay and continued to be safe in Anne’s arms. There was a police detail outside his mother’s house, and one would remain at his own as well for the time being.

“Hi Ce,” he cooed. “Do y’wanna see Miss Honey?” He asked.

She wiped her eyes with the hand still attached to wires. Harry handed her the phone. It seemed her wiping was for nothing as she started to sob once more. “Hi sweet girl,” she tried to smile, but her lips quivered with more tears and anguish. “I’m so glad you’re okay, pretty baby,” she looked like she wanted to reach out and pull her through the phone and into her arms.

“Mama!”

Time seemed to freeze again. For a moment, she was certain she really was dead. Because this was heaven. Someone loved her so unconditionally. It wasn’t fair she was only shown on a phone and miles and miles away.

Time came rushing back as she choked on another sob and pushed the phone back to Harry unable to say another word. Harry felt his heart bouncing erratically in his chest as he looked on in complete awe of her. When he finally pulled his gaze from her teary face, he saw Anne had a knowing smile as she waved at Harry, ending the call.

“Please don’t fire me,” she begged. “Please, please, please. I won’t... I’ll sleep in the basement or outside, I don’t care. I just love her so much and she’s... she’s so perfect Harry and I want to make sure she’s okay all the time and if you fire me I won’t—” Harry couldn’t believe how lovely she was.

“Kitten, I have to fire you,” his voice was soft, and he cupped her face and swiped at the tears that fell faster than he could wipe.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I can’t be in love with someone I employ.”

Her tears slowed for the first time in what seemed like hours. She wiped once more, and she swallowed. “What?”

“I’m so in love with you, kitten,” he kissed her forehead. “M’getting you and Cece a security detail and I want you t’move your stuff into m’room. I want you t’do whatever y’want and—”

“Harry, I like working,” she smiled weakly but that sneaky hope flooded her.

“Then y’can open a day care at the office. A school. I don’t care. Y’can have every penny I earn t’do with whatever y’want. I jus’ want you t’be at home with me and Cece every day. I want you so badly, love. I thought I couldn’t have it all. But I want it all. So m’going to. M’going t’love you with everything I have,” he assured her. She shook her head, a fresh wave a tears flowed down her face. She still seemed scared and immensely dehydrated.

That was a lot to spring on someone but if she was serious, if she would willingly sleep in the yard to be close to Cece, then he thought she could handle what he had to say. His little one called her Mama. He would forever be grateful for the woman that birthed her. Chloe’s framed picture would be at every milestone. The sweet girl had already been taking Cece’s monthly pictures for her first year of life alongside her birth mother’s photo. Chloe wasn’t going to be forgotten, and Cece was a lucky girl to have a second mother who adored her as much as the woman she lost.

But in all that, Harry could see her worry and caution in her eyes. “I love you beyond what you provide for Cecelia,” he whispered as if he could read her mind. “You are the love I didn’t know I needed—didn’t think I deserved. You are everything I could have wanted and more.” When she didn’t respond immediately, he didn’t blame her. He cupped her cheek. “Y’don’t have t’say anything right now. Jus’ get better, yeah? There’s a little girl who needs her Mama,” he smirked.

“Babies,” she hiccuped unable to catch her breath. “Almost always say Dada first,” her smile was apologetic. Harry was going to give her everything she had ever dreamed of, but she did take the first word away from him. Which was a little unfair even in her worried mind.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Well, our baby is going t’be an overachiever.”

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

“You need rest, kitten,” he breathed but he wanted her lips on his more than anything.

“If you don’t kiss me, I’ll cry again.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at her and nosed along her jawline, following it with kisses. “Is that your way of bargaining?”

“Is it working?” She seemed a little breathless. Like when he had her in her bed and made her cry out with his name on her lips. He brushed his mouth across hers. Soft, gentle. It was almost painful. It felt so good and so perfect. Everything he never believed he could have.

“For the record, Harry Styles,” she sighed when Harry rested his forehead against hers. He smiled at her lazily. Like he already knew what she was going to say. Maybe he did. She hoped he did because it seemed pretty obvious to her. “I love you, too.”

Harry tended to all the logistics over the next hour. Phone calls, rides, police, and more than she could possibly think of. Niall sat beside her because Harry refused to leave her alone while she was on the mend. He was happy to be there and even happier to hang out with with one of his newest and closest friends.

The wicked grin on his face told her they were jumping into all the details she failed to tell him for the last week. “Were you going to mention you slept with him?”

She blushed. “He told you?”

“Don’t worry, he didn’t say anything specific,” he winked. “I took several imaginative liberties.”

“You,” she shook her head with a smirk, “have a death wish.”

“Did you really push him away after?” He asked.

She swallowed and looked at her hands, her gaze fixated on her fingertip wrapped tight from the wound she got trying to escape. “Niall, he doesn’t need me.”

“But he wants you.”

“I just thought... he already has everything. He has a beautiful baby, a great career, a home, and—”

“He has a home because of you. He doesn’t have someone to share it with.”

“Well, he has you,” she mumbled.

“You’re much prettier than me,” he chuckled rubbing her free hand and kissing the back of it softly. “You scared the life out of him.”

“He’s been through so much, Ni. I know he said he didn’t love Chloe romantically, but he must have, right? Because of Cece?”

“It was a drunk night. He got to know her over nine months, but she wasn’t a settle down with one guy kind of woman. At least not at the time. If there had been more time, who knows what would have happened. But there wasn’t. They made a cute kid, and I know no one regrets their relationship. But it was one and done, darling. Chloe never owned his heart the way you do.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted that. Wanted all his heart. “What if he just loves the idea of me? Or the things I do?”

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he screamed at me to drive faster. Sobbed over you while he rubbed water on your lips. He thought he was going to lose you, and he was terrified. If he only loved you because of the things you did, he wouldn’t have been awake for the last two days straight trying to find you. He sent Cece elsewhere. He would have let the police handle a missing nanny case,” he reminded her. “But not the woman that stole his heart.”

She swallowed around the tears that clogged the emotion in her throat. “Have you seen his abs?” She whispered.

Niall snorted. “Gross.”

“I want to lick every single one. And his tattoos.”

“Oh, for the love of god.”

She smiled weakly. Her heart felt pulled in a hundred different directions. Unsure of what needed to be handled first. “Do you know if my family knows?”

“They’re on their way,” Harry said from the doorway.

Her jaw dropped. “What?!”

“They jus’ got to the airport. S’a long flight. But they’ll be here.”

“My brothers, too?” She croaked.

“Is now a good time to tell you that you owe me three more months worth of lunches for not telling me about the sex? And another two for the ab comment?”

She laughed but Harry smiled, rolling his eyes while he watched her. “What ab comment?”

“I can walk,” she reminded him. But Harry held her, cradled against him and shook his head.

“You’ll be lucky if I let y’walk in a week.”

“Oh, you’re going to be annoying, aren’t you?” He shrugged and entered the house through the garage.

“Hey love birds,” Niall called. The kitchen smelled delicious. “Not sure if it’ll taste nearly as good as your food, darling.”

Harry ignored his friend and brought her right to the couch. He placed her carefully in the corner of the cushions the way she liked and wrapped her new winter blanket around her. He went to her favorite store the week before and bought one for February. It was so faintly pink it looked almost white. It was decorated with hearts of different shades of reds and pinks along with the word love patterned into the soft material. He hoped she would like it. Because as silly as it was, he wanted to wrap her up with it and ergo wrap her up with love. That was the only thought he had when he saw it. “Here,” he hummed and kissed her forehead as he brought a straw to her lips.

She sucked on the water that even though the doctors had kept her for a few days to ensure she was better, it felt like heaven to have the cold liquid. Harry stroked her cheek like she was going to disappear. “You don’t have to watch me the whole time.”

“You owe me at least a month worth of lunches, darling. The way he screamed at me? Or how he complained about driving you to the hospital? He’s not leaving your side.”

She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry pointedly. “She’s not making you a single lunch,” Harry grumbled.

“I always make him lunch,” she reminded him. “Add it to your tab, Ni,” she called.

“Not anymore.”

“How did you know where I was?” She asked, still sipping. Niall was eerily quiet, which was a bad sign. Maybe. “Did you two do something illegal?”

Harry shook his head. “Of course not.”

Niall snorted.

She gaped. “Harry Styles.”

“I jus’ looked up the property sales for the men that they identified which is perfectly legal. Niall and I may have gone t’each one while they dealt with finding them because the police assured me, they wouldn’t leave y’alone. So, while they tracked movement and cars and false plates, we tracked locations. Because they assured me that’s not how kidnappers work.”

“You guys interfered with a police investigation? What if they showed up at one of the locations and you were unarmed and alone?” She asked, alarm present in her voice. Nervous for something that didn't even happen.

“We would have called the police at that point,” Niall answered.

“Probably,” Harry muttered. “They didn’t behave like normal kidnappers.”

“Well, I wasn’t their first target,” she shrugged casually. Throwing off all the intentional plans probably through everyone for a loop. Her kidnappers and the police.

Harry looked conflicted briefly and then he winced as if whatever thought he had was too difficult to speak. But she already knew what it was because it was the very reason Harry was tending to her right now: holding her face while she drank precious, delicious, ice water.

“Ni,” she called keeping her eyes on Harry. “Can you grab my bag out of the car?”

“Course,” he headed off the kitchen toward the garage.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” she whispered. “That it was me and not her and you’re grateful for that. I’m so glad it was me,” she tilted his face up because he refused to look at her. “It doesn’t mean you love me any less,” she smiled softly. “I would also think you’re a monster if you didn’t feel that way.”

He shook his head unable to voice how incredible it was for her to know his thoughts. “I would never want t’make that decision,” he murmured. “If they took her...” He shook his head, and an involuntary shiver went through him. She moved her hand to the side of his cheek.

“It’s her. Every time,” she promised. “If it was you or her,” she rubbed her thumb on his lip. “You’re a lot stronger than her,” she reminded him. “Plus, I would have burned the whole city down to find you.”

Harry smiled and kissed her softly before her next sip of water.

“Are you done being gross?” Niall asked.

“Haven’t started,” she called back.

“Disgusting.”

Harry rested his forehead on hers. Right then the front door opened. She stiffened; worry painting her face. Harry squeezed her reassuringly. Gemma was holding the sweet little baby as she entered the room, and she gasped. Tears flooded her eyes so quickly Harry was just glad to see her sweet face melt with adoration for their little love. “Oh,” she sobbed. “Cece,” she whimpered.

Gemma smiled, dropped the diaper bag and quickly made her way over not hesitating a moment or prolonging her suffering any longer. “Let’s go see Mama, girly,” she cooed, passing the baby to her outstretched arms. She kissed her hair and clutched her to her as she cried. Cece didn’t really understand what was happening, but she loved her snuggles and nuzzled against her shirt. Harry cupped the back of her hand on Cece’s head and kissed the crown of Cece’s head before he kissed her temple. He stroked her cheek again of the tears.

“Thanks, Gem,” Harry smirked at his sister.

“Niall,” Gemma gave his shoulder a squeeze and then she leaned over and pressed her lips to the woman’s cheek that would forever be called Mama. “What are we making?”

“Your family, Mum, Eliza, everyone is going t’come over,” he told her softly while she breathed in Cece’s scent. “S’why Niall is cooking.”

She nodded unable to feel the weight of his words because she was overwhelmed with holding the little one. “Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Harry shook his head and gazed at the two girls right in front of him. “M’never going t’forget t’say it, kitten. I swear. M’going t’say it every single day,” he promised. “But, y’never have t’thank me. I owe you m’entire existence,” he whispered. “Thank you,” his lips brushed over hers and then down to Cece’s forehead.

“You don’t have to thank me,” her voice was soft. “You... you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He smiled, his heart so full it felt overwhelming. “You deserve it, kitten.”

The terror that ripped through Harry’s throat at the sight of his bed half empty had him springing up and slamming his door against the wall. The police posted outside their house couldn’t have been that bad, could they? They couldn’t be. They would have called or come in if they had to.

Harry pulled the door out of the way to her old room. What he said in the hospital? He was dead serious. She wasn’t living down the hall from him anymore. She could turn her old room into a library or an office, he didn’t care. Harry left the hospital only once while she was there. To ensure the house was safe for her return. During that time, he moved all her clothes, her bathroom stuff, her books, all of her was going in his room where he could be close to her.

Or so he thought.

However, she wasn’t in her old room. Harry frowned, the worry creeping up his stomach and into his chest. Then, an overwhelming sense of relief went through him when he realized his mistake. He went to the next door and the nightlight painted the room and everything in it with the gentle glow. There, on the floor was the sweet girl, facing the crib, breathing at regular intervals.

“Kitten,” he cooed kneeling down behind her and gently shaking her.

She bounced and her eyes flickered to the crib. “What’s wrong, is she okay?”

“She’s fine, m’love,” his heart skipped a beat with how much he loved her. “Y’can’t be sleeping on the floor after the day you’ve had, sweetheart, c’mon.”

There was a brief pause while Harry stared at her. Cece’s little breaths were the only background noise they had. Soft and sweet, perfectly healthy. “I can’t leave her,” she whispered.

Harry’s heart felt like it was going to explode. Of course. That was stupid of him. “Okay, okay,” he kissed the side of her face. He stood, scooped Cece out of the crib kissing her forehead as he did. She got to her knees watching anxiously as Harry held her like she was going to disappear. “C’mon,” he hummed, holding his hand out for the sleepy girl. She stood, then paused, blinking rapidly. “Are y’okay?” He asked, putting an arm around her waist immediately and shifting Cece to his other arm.

She nodded. “A little dizzy.”

Harry squeezed around her hips. He guided them back to their bedroom. “Here we go,” he placed Cece on the bed in the middle then slowly sat down the newest love of his life on the edge of the bed. “Are y’okay, kitten?” He repeated.

She nodded. “Just dizzy.”

“Do y’need medical attention?”

She shook her head. “Just got up too fast, I think.”

He kissed her forehead and sighed. “Wish y’woke me up. Scared me,” he tugged her toward the pillows beside Cece. Harry curled himself around her, her bum pressed close to his pelvic bone, their thighs and knees spooned together. She shifted a bunch, moving pillows and blankets to keep Cece in place while she slept soundly.

Harry draped an arm around her body and tugged her toward him even though there was no more room to move her back into his embrace. “I love you,” he murmured.

She brought his hand to her mouth, and she kissed his knuckles. “I love you.”

“Cece okay?” He wondered, hoping her answer would reassure her own worry.

“Yes,” she nodded. Harry kissed the back of her head and felt himself warm with her body so close. He could see the rise and fall of Cece breathing on the bed in the light from the moon streaming through the window.

“You’re okay?” He asked his voice quiet and soft.

She nodded. “I’m perfect,” she whispered.

He smiled. Sleepy, happy, and completely thrilled that he could have everything he ever dreamed of having right in his bed. “God, sweetheart. I couldn’t agree more.”

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