#he did what he had to do and he did in style

[navybrat817]

Where Worlds Collide - Intro

Pairing: Silver Fox!Sugar Daddy!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader

Summary: Your boss forces you to be eye candy for an alpha at a gala, but things take a turn for the better when you meet another alpha. Does it matter that you don't belong in his world?

Word Count: Over 9.2k

Warnings: Smut, v. fingering, possessive behavior, dirty talk, instant connection, A/B/O dynamics, talk of bonding, misogyny, unspecified age gap, insecurities, world building, choking (not our reader… yet), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I'm pretty proud of the intro to this world, lovelies! @whisperlullaby, @targaryenvampireslayer, @tavners, here it is! Ant thanks to @queenoftheworldisdead as well. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Soft music drifted from the ballroom as you stepped into the lavish venue. You’d never been to a gala before. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to receive an invitation, nor did your last name carry any influence. The only reason you were there tonight was because of the alpha on your arm, all thanks to your boss’s insistence that you accompany him.

It was an evening of style, grace, and luxury, and you didn’t belong.

You held your breath as you walked deeper into the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers casting a refined glow over everything. A mix of alphas, betas, and omegas socialized and gossiped, their glamorous evening wear glittering under the lights. You had designed a few of the dresses and suits, but none of the people wearing them would recognize you. The alpha you worked for always took the credit. Complaining about it wouldn’t help. After all, you’d only sound like an ungrateful omega and hundreds of other omegas would beg to take your place.

You couldn’t wait for the day you quit.

Chet’s grip on your arm brought you back to the present. “Keep quiet and smile,” he ordered, a haughty expression on his face as he led you through the place. You didn't want to judge all men named Chet, but you had pegged him as a douchebag the second he went in for his fitting and he was proving you right. You couldn't even enjoy that he was objectively handsome since his personality made him less attractive.

“I am smiling,” you said. Wrinkling your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and expensive colognes and perfumes, you did your best to make your smile look natural. The servers looked like they were doing the same as they served everyone. It was strange how a room so enormous could make someone feel so small.

“Then keep smiling,” Chet ordered through his grin. “What you do or don’t do is a reflection of me.”

“I know,” you muttered. Because it was all about him and you were just his omega arm candy. You really should’ve demanded overtime pay from your boss, but that conversation wouldn’t have ended well.

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

You did notice a few more men looking your way. A few women as well, not hiding that they were whispering about you. Trying to hide your vulnerability, you held yourself the way you thought a goddess would. You also held yourself with pride since the dress you wore was your own design. A sleeveless black dress with a middle slit, it was bold and alluring. The glitter throughout the fabric made you shine like stars in the night sky. The finishing touch was the matching collar, a tasteful way to protect you from any alpha who even thought about marking you.

Reaching up instinctively to run a hand over your collar, you felt your heart ache. Your inner omega wanted a mark, but the thought of being tied to someone was somewhat terrifying. You respected omegas who wanted to go the traditional route by staying home and being submissive, but you didn’t want to be submissive outside of the bedroom. You wanted a partner who would view you as an equal.

Your false confidence didn’t last long when Chet’s grip on you tightened, your body immediately going stiff. You’d have to take a long shower and dry clean your dress just to get rid of his scent. “Loosen up,” he ordered.

“Maybe I’d loosen up if you weren’t digging your fingers in,” you whispered.

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

A shiver rolled down your spine when you heard a low growl come from another alpha. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone looking directly at you. It probably had nothing to do with you because why would anyone care if an alpha was bossing you around?

Chet’s hold on you loosened nonetheless. “And just so we’re clear, you have no intention of sleeping with me?” he asked as an omega in a revealing dress sauntered by. Your date didn’t bother to hide how he was undressing her with his eyes.

“That’s right,” you said. You made it clear to your boss that sex wasn’t an option, and he was oddly on your side. Maybe he thought Chet could sway you if he tried hard enough. If he even thought of using some sort of alpha command on you, nothing would stop you from lashing out and making him sorry.

“Then you’ll have no problem finding your own ride home should I choose to leave with someone else,” he said.

“So, I can’t make you look bad, but you can leave with another omega?” you asked.

“You got it. You’re smarter than you look.” He tapped your nose with a condescending grin. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The prick was pushing his luck. “Listen you-”

“Chet, my boy! Good to see you!” A man interrupted, uncaring that you were speaking.

“Shane,” Chet smiled. “Always a pleasure.”

The bulky alpha shamelessly looked you over, his scent almost making you choke on your next breath. “And who might this be?”

“Pretty, isn't she?” Chet cut in before you could answer, puffing his chest out. “Doesn't say much, but I’m not exactly interested in her conversational skills, am I?”

You bit your tongue when they chuckled. Be seen and not heard. It was insulting.

“Come join me, but leave the omega,” Shane said unapologetically, taking another look at your chest. What would happen if you threw a drink in his face? “As entertaining as she would be, we have business to discuss, and we don’t need the distraction.”

“Of course,” Chet smiled, turning you toward the bar as Shane walked away. “Since he doesn't want you around, why don't you take advantage of the free drinks until I get back?”

“I’m not-”

“And not that you’d have any extra cash to tip, but it’s taken care of,” he continues, your face hot at the assumption that you couldn't afford to tip the staff. “Just behave and try not to make a fool out of either of us, you got it? Wouldn’t want your boss to hear about it if you do.”

Biting back a retort, you freed yourself from his grip. There wasn’t enough liquor at this party to get you through the rest of this evening. “Don’t worry about me, alpha. Go have fun,” you said, your eyes burning as he walked away. A few heads turned your way when your scent soured. It wasn’t enough that you had to attend an event where you didn’t belong, but your date just had to rub salt in the open wound by reminding you of such. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered, making your way over to the bar to order a drink.

Plastering a smile back on your face when you got the bartender’s attention, you ordered a whiskey on the rocks. You wanted something that would go down smooth but leave a little burn. You also preferred opting to watch the bartender make a drink in front of you instead of grabbing a glass of already poured champagne. The drinks were likely fine, but better safe than sorry. And like hell would you accept a drink from your sorry excuse for a “date” if he offered you one. He was lucky you-

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

No… It couldn’t be your mate.

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too. He looked like the kind of alpha who would have omegas kneeling at his feet, and it frightened you how badly you wanted to get on your hands and knees and crawl toward him.

His. Mine.

Lifting his tumbler to his lips, he kept his eyes on you as he sipped the expensive liquor. You wanted to look away but couldn't as the air crackled between you. He had you under some sort of trance you couldn't snap yourself out of. As frightening as it was to have a scent hit you so strongly, a feeling like this hit you square in the chest, the thought of him staring at another omega that way nearly made you hiss because you didn't want anyone else on the receiving end of those blue eyes.

He smirked like he read your mind and pushed himself off the wall. You did whimper out loud when you realized just how large he was. Dominant, assertive, yet there was something almost playful in his smirk when he finally broke his gaze. You greedily inhaled with the hope of catching more of his scent when he strode toward the nearby balcony, smooth and fluid as a server quickly took the empty tumbler from his hand. The men at the gala were all posturing, but no one could match the confidence of that alpha.

So how were people not surrounding him, begging for a scrap of attention? Was he untouchable among those who deemed themselves untouchable? He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who chased after anyone. No, people went to him.

He wanted you to follow him, right?

Downing your drink in one gulp, your feet moved before you could stop yourself. “I don’t need this alpha,” you whispered, the words bitter in your mouth as you followed his path. If you were smart, you’d walk the other way and not look back. Yet the thought of never seeing him again made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to examine.

Does he know?

Studies over the years showed that not every bound pair was the same. Some couples felt the bond instantaneously like a firework exploding. Others felt it like a small burn that slowly consumed them over time. For a few, the spark took a long time to ignite. You couldn't ignore this burn if you tried.

You welcomed the slight chill in the air as you stepped onto the large balcony. It was lit up with sparkling lights, yet it didn’t take away from the stars that shone in the sky above. The alpha who caught your eye stood by the railing, alone, like he was looking over a kingdom. You felt foolish for going out there to bother him.

Steeling yourself with false confidence again, you walked over to stand beside him. You weren’t close enough to touch him, wanting to leave him a respectable amount of space. You could always use the excuse that you just needed some fresh air if he asked what you were doing.

Stealing a glance at him, you didn’t want to believe that you had a true connection with this man, that he could be your mate. No way would an omega like you be his match. Would he even want an omega like you? One with dreams to do more, be more?

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice thick like honey and the whiskey you drank. Of course, his voice would be a powerful weapon. But he wasn’t scenting you, or trying to tear your collar off, or doing anything to indicate that he felt the sort of spark you had. Maybe that was for the best.

“It is,” you sighed, looking out at the view. You couldn’t deny the beauty and how much easier it was to breathe since you weren’t surrounded by the suffocating bodies and scents. “It really is something.”

“I was talking about you.”

You whipped your head toward him so quickly you nearly hurt your neck. The flare of heat in his eyes hypnotized you again, but this time you didn’t want him to draw you in. A man of his stature, his power, he could chew you up, spit you out, and leave you a shell of yourself. But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

You were in so much trouble.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“I don't think I’ve seen you at a gala before. I would've remembered you,” he stated. You weren't sure what to say to that. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky if you’d like.”

You blinked a few times. “You’re James Barnes,” you whispered, not having to belong in the inner circle to know who he was.

James Buchanan Barnes. One of the wealthiest alphas in the city, his family came from money and it was no secret that Bucky, as he liked to go by, wasn’t bound to anyone. People assumed that he didn't want to share his wealth with anyone beyond his charitable donations, or that he was either extremely picky in choosing a mate. And here he was talking to you. This was the man you thought could be your mate.

You were in way over your head.

“I am,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

It took a moment, but your name tumbled from your lips as you shifted toward him. He inhaled when a breeze rolled in and you hoped your scent got to him the way his scent got to you. The way his eyes darkened, it had. Your inner omega wanted to purr with delight.

Time stood still when he took your hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but…”

“But what?”

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. Had Chet or another alpha done that, it would've been a different story. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

You whined before your inner hackles went up, making him pull his mouth away immediately. He at least had some level of respect and sensed the shift in your stance. “How many omegas have you said that and done that to?” you asked when you had no right to feel jealous.

He didn’t look put off by your question, and he didn’t let go of your hand either. “I’ve come across a few delectable scents before, but I don’t think I’ve ever described anyone as divine,” he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. An intense longing behind his eyes had your knees weak. “I haven’t smelled anyone like you.”

This alpha was telling the truth, but he wasn't a boy scout either. He knew how to fuck, you could tell, and he likely broke hearts without intending to. You didn’t want to be the next victim if a quick fuck was all he was looking for.

“I haven’t smelled anyone like you either,” you admitted, grudgingly pulling away. His heady scent made it hard to concentrate. And standing close to a man who wore a suit that cost more than half a year’s rent was another reminder that you were a girl playing dress up, nothing more. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Bucky stopped you from turning away, his grip on your arms tender so you wouldn’t feel threatened. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t belong here, and I don’t expect you to understand that,” you replied.

It was bad enough to let your guard down by following him out there, and you couldn’t let him seduce you more than he already had. You were lucky the very presence of him didn't trigger your heat. And how would your story end? He was a rich alpha, and you were a struggling omega. Was happiness really in the cards?

Your eyes widened when you heard the rumble in his chest, his scent producing a soothing aura that wrapped around you. Your lip trembled slightly as the rumble faded. Bucky could’ve let you walk away, yet he was comforting you. It made you want to cry.

“I may understand better than you think,” he whispered. Did he? Did he feel alone in that crowd of people there? “But help me understand why you feel that way.”

You rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. What was there for him to understand? “Okay,” you whispered back. The fact that he wanted you to talk to him meant something. “For starters, that crowd is kind of… well, awful from the short time I observed and interacted with them. They think they’re better than everyone else because they have so much, but they have no right to look down on others.”

The people in the gala simply flaunted what they had without a second thought. Being there made you appreciate your friends and their genuine interactions more. They worked hard for everything they had. They wouldn’t have anything against people born with a silver spoon in their mouths if they showed a little humility.

Bucky's chuckle surprised you. “Money doesn’t equal class, and believe me when I say they aren’t worth taking up any space in your beautiful mind,” he said, giving you a small smile. “To be honest, I came out here to get away from them because, save a select few, they're fucking assholes.”

You found yourself smiling, too. No wonder he has been standing by himself. “Is that the only reason?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch his perfect hair simply because you could.

He looked at you, a mixture of lust and something soft. Standing like this you felt like a couple. “I may have wanted you to follow me, and I’m glad you did,” he said, his tone calm and casual as butterflies filled your stomach. “You’re the first person I’ve considered approaching in a long time, but you looked a bit upset when you went to the bar. I didn’t think bothering you would win me any favors.”

You exhaled. Was he the alpha who growled when Chet gripped you too tightly? “I…” you shivered when another breeze rolled in.

He shrugged his jacket the moment he spotted you shivered. “May I?” he offered.

You hesitated. Bucky had a powerful scent, and how would it look to Chet if you wore another alpha’s jacket? Chet wasn’t your alpha, but he could run his mouth and get you in trouble with your boss. It didn’t matter that you wanted to quit one day. Today wasn’t that day because you financially weren’t ready. That was the excuse you made up in your head.

But your inner omega wanted Bucky’s scent to surround you and you replied in a small voice, “Yes, please.”

Bucky carefully placed the warm jacket around your shoulders. “I know the crowd bothered you for good reason, but who specifically upset you and how can I fix it?”

“My date,” you answered. You didn't have it in you to lie to him. It also wasn't up to him to fix it.

Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your arms. It helped warm and relax you. “What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes landing on the collar around your neck. You wondered what he would do if your mating gland was exposed, and you had to push that thought away.

“His name is Chet and he’s discussing business with some alpha.” The change in his scent was subtle. He seemed too confident to be jealous, but he didn’t seem pleased either at the thought of you being with someone else. “They were extremely condescending, and I couldn’t exactly throw a drink in their faces or put them in their place since I’m just an omega.”

Bucky snarled quietly, his eyes blazing. “You’re not just an omega,” he said. He was upset on your behalf. Was he not like other older alphas who wanted omegas to be subservient? “Maybe I should have a chat with them.”

You purred before you could stop yourself. Bucky offering to stand up for you felt better than you wanted to admit. “You don't have to do that,” you said, running your fingers through his hair again. You wanted to soothe him the way he soothed you. “Besides, I’m not really on a date with Chet. He just wanted me to be eye candy for the night.”

Bucky almost snarled again, but raised an eyebrow instead. “And you agreed to that? I have the feeling you aren’t the arm candy type.”

You giggled. He was right about that. “Didn’t really have a choice thanks to my boss,” you told him.

“Your boss? What exactly do you do for work?” he asked carefully.

He asked a lot of questions, but you didn't mind since he seemed genuinely interested. Maybe he assumed you were an escort. “I'm a designer,” you answered, smiling to yourself. “At least, I want to be. I’m just an assistant at the moment.”

“Let me guess. Your boss is an alpha, makes you do the grunt work, and takes the credit?” he mused, humming when you solemnly nodded. “And he convinced you to come here tonight because Chet is a client?”

“Something like that. It was either that or I get fired,” you laughed bitterly. “And if he fired me I’d get blacklisted, then I’d have no job, no money at all, and I’d lose my tiny apartment and…”

His nose wrinkled when you trailed off. You were so embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop your scent from souring. Talking to one of the richest alphas ever about your problems wasn’t something you thought you’d experience tonight, but that soothing rumble and smell came out again to help you breathe easier.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said with a touch of firmness so you knew he didn’t pity you. You could take a lot of things, but not pity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, smoothing out some of the fabric on your dress and not wanting to dwell on the topic. “I actually made this,” you told him. It was silly, but you specifically wanted to hear something nice from Bucky to make you feel better, which was bad. You shouldn’t want compliments from him or want him period.

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

Your mind raced, the heavy weight of his gaze pinning you in place. The longer you stood there, the more you wanted him. You had to snap out of it. “You’re dangerous,” you whispered, shaking your head as his hand fell away. “I should go inside.”

He stepped back, his eyes searching yours. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you replied honestly. Some of his actions were forward, but he wasn’t pushy. He was the sort of predator who probably gently played with his food before he sank his teeth in, yet you weren’t completely afraid of the bite. “Though I’m wondering why you don’t have a date tonight. Keeping your options open?”

Maybe he really did want to live the bachelor life.

The corner of his lip tugged when you narrowed your eyes. “I come to these things to make a short appearance. That’s all,” he explained. Even the wealthy had obligations. “Unlike some alphas my age, I’m not interested in having a date for the sole purpose of eye candy. And because most of the people here are fucking assholes, I don’t usually find anyone to take home.”

“So, you aren’t interested in taking me home?” you tried to tease. If he said no, you could lick your wounds later since you’d likely never see him again. If he said yes, you… Well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close enough that you felt just how big he was. A shudder wracked your body, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you. “I’m very interested in taking you home,” he breathed.

You lifted your eyes to him, his desire matching yours. “I-”

A young giggling couple stumbled out to the balcony reeking of booze. They took a few steps forward and Bucky moved you out of the way before they could crash into you. The ferocious growl he let out made the laughter cease, but it had you purring like a bitch in heat. “Leave,” he ordered, keeping his arms tight around you. The underlying threat in that single word had the couple rushing back inside, but they had effectively ruined the moment.

“I think that alpha almost pissed his pants,” you teased to cut through the tension.

“He’s lucky he didn’t tumble over the railing,” he said, loosening his hold on you and taking in your expression. You felt naked under his stare. “You aren’t ready to leave with me just yet.”

“I’m still here with a ‘date’,” you reminded him to cover up any feelings or doubts in your mind.

Other than Bucky being wealthy, powerful, and smelling like a sinful kind of heaven, you didn’t fully know him. Something within you felt like you did, but going home with him for the night… What if you disappointed him? What if he decided he didn't want you?

He gave nothing away as he stared at you while you felt like your eyes told him everything. It wasn’t fair how in control he looked when you were close to spiraling. “Let’s go sit inside,” he suggested, finally cracking a smile when your face scrunched up. “No one will bother us, and I’d like to keep talking to you even if you don’t decide to leave with me.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with you for a few minutes,” you said, especially if he would keep others away from you.

His hand on your hip felt like it belonged there as he guided you back inside. The scents and mindless chatter didn’t bother you as much now, likely because all you could really smell and concentrate on was Bucky. Did his kisses taste like plums or whiskey? Both?

He brought to a corner near the bar, far enough away from the mingling crowd that you still felt a bit of privacy. You kept his jacket around you though the room was considerably warmer than it was outside, not quite ready to give it back to him. “Drink?” he asked, angling his chair so that his knees were touching yours. There was no table in front of you. Anyone looking would see how close you were.

“No, thanks,” you said. You already downed a glass of whiskey and your head was spinning thanks to him.

You felt his gaze on you for a full minute before he spoke again. “Your ‘date’ isn’t the reason you’re hesitating to leave,” he said, scratching along his beard. You bet it would feel wonderful between your thighs. “Is it me? Am I too old for you?”

You had to laugh. “You’re a gorgeous silver fox, so that isn’t the problem,” you said. Beneath the suit you knew he was in great shape, too.

He smiled a gorgeous smile, appreciating the compliment. “So it isn't my age. Do you think I won’t treat you well?”

“I know you’ll treat me well,” you answered, avoiding his gaze. You knew that in your core. “But I’m afraid of what happens in the morning.”

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Everything.

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul. “And it isn’t fair that you have that kind of power over me.”

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

It wasn’t a matter of if with him, but when. “You couldn't possibly want me for more than one night,” you said. He knew you were just a struggling designer’s assistant and didn’t run with this crowd. You lived in different worlds.

“I’m going to want you every night.” He tilted his head when you shifted in your seat. “You feel it, don't you?”

You feigned innocence when he held your gaze, your heart racing. God, he had felt it. Was it an explosion, a slow burn, or something else? “Feel what?”

Bucky smirked, not at all fooled. “That you’re my-”

“Don’t say it,” you begged. Speaking the word would make it real and it wasn't something he could take back. “Because if you don’t want that or me, we can just go our separate ways and ignore it.”

He hadn’t marked you, and you hadn’t claimed him either. You didn’t know what it would feel like to have his knot, so you couldn’t possibly miss it. And neither of you would have to depend on the other. You could walk away with as minimal damage as possible, and you’d find a way to remain whole. So would he.

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

You thought the same about your heat. “Bucky-”

“Our scents call to each other. We call to each other,” he said, placing his hand on your chest. How did your heart feel fuller from his touch? “Tell me you didn't feel a connection when you caught my scent and looked at me.”

“I felt something,” you admitted.

“And it compelled you enough to follow me outside, to open up to me,” he said. You couldn't deny that. “You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Scare you?” you asked. Having mates could be wonderful, but what if he wanted that pull with someone who wasn’t you?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

You looked at him like he suddenly grew another head. “Quit my job and move in with you?”

“Yes. Your boss doesn't deserve to have you as an assistant, and you wouldn't have to pay rent if you stayed at my place.”

You didn’t attempt to laugh off his request since he was completely serious. “You realize that sounds insane, right?” you added. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary though. Some couples who took their time building their bond still moved in right away.

“Insane would’ve been marking you the moment I saw you and dragging you home the way some alphas do,” he said.

You bristled. “It’s too soon for you to mark me,” you said, even as your mating bond throbbed.

“Don’t worry. I won't mark you tonight,” he assured you. Hurt crept up for a split second before he ran a finger along your collar. You visibly trembled and realized that he did want to mark you. He just wasn’t doing so tonight out of respect for you. “But you can still be mine in every other way until that day comes.”

You opened your mouth to argue. He hadn’t marked you, but you still felt owned. “You really think people want you with an omega outside of your tax bracket?”

“You think I give a fuck what they think?” His handsome face twisted in a scowl as he looked around. “And if they even think about insulting you, I’ll ruin them. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you said.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

It sounded too good to be true, and nothing in this world was free. “I have my rent. If I break my lease-”

“I’ll pay what you owe.”

Your rent was probably pocket change to him. At least you didn’t have a roommate you’d have to worry about. It was always too risky to rely on someone else to help with bills and utilities. “And all that in exchange for what? Being your whore?”

He snarled, and you were delighted to hear that sound. “Trust me, doll, you may want me to fuck you like a whore, but I’ll treat you like a goddess. Like my equal,” he replied, his promise touching something deep inside you and drowning out most of your fear.

You just wished the remaining would fade away.

“I want us to be equals, but do you realize that you’d have all the power until I get my designs off the ground, right? I’d have to rely on your money, your roof over my head,” you said, swallowing the small lump in your throat. Did he realize what he was asking of you? To push aside the small amount of pride and independence you had? “I’ve done fine on my own and to have to depend on you is something else altogether.”

You hoped he at the very least realized how vulnerable you were right now by opening up more.

He looked vulnerable, too, as he moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to have to depend on me, but with me you wouldn't have to do this on your own. My finances don’t mean I have power. You’d have power, too,” he said. You wanted to believe you would. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in this entire city who could bring me to my knees. That’s power.”

You smiled a little. Could you really bring him to his knees? “As flattered as I am that you want to take care of me, do I have to decide tonight?” you asked. He was saying all the right things, and it was tempting, but there was so much to figure out beyond the living arrangements.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’d like,” he said, looking around as you let out a breath. He had no doubt in his mind that you would spend the night. “Have you seen your date?”

You looked around, too, not at all worried when you spotted him. A complete contrast to how you felt at the beginning of the evening. “He’s…” You gestured to the bar where Chet was flirting with the loosely dressed omega from earlier and staring right down the front of her dress.

Bucky growled and swept his eyes over you, no doubt catching how you pressed your thighs together from the sound. A growl really shouldn't be that sexy. “Not a very faithful alpha, is he?”

“Well, he isn't my alpha, remember?” you pointed out. Someone like Chet would never be. “My boss only ‘suggested’ that I go with him tonight, and I made it clear I wasn't going to sleep with him.”

There was another hint of a growl before he smiled. “Wait right here. I’m just going to tell the young pup that you’re going home with me.”

You gripped his arm as he tried to stand. “Easy, old man. I didn't say I was going home with you,” you teased, knowing full well you were in fact leaving with him.

“Old man?” he smiled.

You shrugged. “You called me ‘doll’, which sounds like something an old man would say.”

“I think an old man is exactly what you need.” His eyes flashed with a deliciously dark promise that he was right and you’d enjoy every single inch of what he’d give you. “And you didn’t explicitly say you'd go with me, but we both know I’ve swayed you to go to my place.”

“You alphas are so cocky.” You refrained from rolling your eyes since he was right in this instance. “But maybe I should just stay here a bit longer and make you work for it since you want me so badly.”

He chuckled. “You’d rather stay here? Fine by me,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ll just slide my hand up your dress here and now and feel just how wet you are for me. I doubt anyone would notice if I made you come on my fingers. They’re too caught up in themselves.”

Your eyes closed when he touched your thigh. “You think I'm wet for you?”

“I know you are. I can smell it. Can practically taste it. You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” he purred, and you could only tremble as his hand moved higher, your legs parting to give him more access. “In fact, why don't I drag your ‘date’ over and let him watch while I lay you out and feast on your cunt? Show him what you'll never give him a taste of?”

You weren't sure if the pool of arousal was from the thought of Bucky eating you like a starved man, making that sad excuse for an alpha watch while he got you off, or both. You wondered what it would be like to taste yourself on his lips. “And why would you let him see what I look like when I come?”

He seemed to consider your question. “That’s a good point. He shouldn't see how you look when you come.” Bringing his hand to your face, your breath hitched when he caressed your cheek with such care. “But you’ll never have to hide that beautiful expression from me.”

“Hey!”

You pulled away from Bucky in time to see Chet storm over. “Shit,” you whispered when he furiously looked between you and Bucky. You were shocked smoke didn't come out of his ears.

“What the hell are you doing? I said enjoy the free booze, and do not embarrass me. You can't even follow a simple instruction,” he snapped. You refused to bare your neck when he showed his teeth. He wasn’t going to embarrass you either. “The only reason you can even step foot in this place is because of me. You fucking sl-”

Bucky was out of his seat before you could blink, his hand wrapped tight around Chet’s throat and cutting off the remainder of his insult. A few patrons gasped and stopped to watch as Chet clawed at Bucky's hand, but no one stepped in to help. The anger that poured off your alpha was enough to deter anyone from getting involved. And you were loving every second of it.

“She’s my mate,” Bucky said through his teeth, making Chet’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Biology may say you’re an alpha, but you’re nothing. And I’m tempted to crush your windpipe for insulting her.” He squeezed harder and smirked when Chet wheezed. “When her boss asks how the gala went, you’re going to sing her praises. If you don't, I’ll hunt you down and make sure you can never knot anyone ever again. And that’s just the start of what I'll do to you.”

It was almost humiliating how turned on you were by Bucky's dominant display. You thought you’d be an omega who wouldn’t want an alpha acting like, well, an alpha, yet his defense of you meant a lot. “Bucky.” You stood up and smiled when he looked at you, his anger shifting to something softer. “You can let him go.”

Chet fell to the ground and coughed once Bucky released him. Your alpha bared his teeth with a snarl and Chet showed his throat like an obedient dog. It was clear who the top alpha was.

“Apologize,” Bucky commanded. Not only did Chet cough out an apology while avoiding your gaze, a few others said “sorry” as well. That was how powerful this man was. And you wanted him more than anything.

“Thanks for the free booze, Chet. And don't worry about me getting a ride home. I think you should worry if that omega still wants you after your… performance,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s. “Have a great night.”

There was no need to fake your confidence as you and Bucky walked out together. It didn't matter at the moment what they thought of you. All you could think about was how Bucky defended you, and how he called you his mate. It was out in the open. He…

Oh, God.

“Thank you for defending me, but you do realize you just told everyone that I’m your mate, right?” you whispered. That gossip would spread before the night was over.

“Is that what I did?” he asked, smirking when you hissed and glared. “And you don’t need to thank me. He had it coming.”

The smirk was still on his handsome face as the valet brought his car around. What the hell were people going to say? He didn’t care what they thought and neither should you.

“Listen, Bucky, just because you…”

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

“You better get me off before we get to your place,” you said instead of finishing your original statement because you truthfully forgot all about it when his lips touched yours.

Your insides tinged with more heat and desire when he nipped your bottom lip. “You better say my name when I get you off.”

“Should I say Bucky or James?” you smirked.

“Bucky. Reserve the name James for when you’re upset or extremely serious,” he winked, thanking the valet before helping you into his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice.

“And you won’t mark me tonight?” you asked once he got up, touching the back of your collar to make sure it was still secure.

“We still have a lot to figure out before I mark you,” he said, leaning over as you sighed in relief. “But before we go…”

His mouth landed on yours, both strong and soft as he took possession of yours. The entire gala could've gone up in flames and you wouldn't have noticed since all you felt was him. You tasted his hunger when his tongue plunged inside, and there was a hint of desperation, too. He was starving for you and you moaned, deepening the kiss to show that you were just as eager.

You panted when he broke the kiss. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” you breathed, your eyes once again giving everything away.

His nose bumped yours affectionately as he dragged his lips to your forehead. You didn't expect such a fond gesture from him, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't blurt out how nice a kiss to the forehead felt. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss against your skin.

Your heart felt full, and your inner omega wanted to shout with joy. “Take me home then.”

Bucky sped off a moment later, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Your core ached as you looked at him, giving you a chance to once again take in his profile. The saying of aging like fine wine probably rang true for him. You imagined he was always good looking, but he was both rough and refined thanks to his age. People who said perfection didn’t exist clearly never saw him before.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I do, but you know that,” you answered, his jaw clenching when you pulled your dress up to reveal your legs. “And didn’t you promise to get me off before we got to your place?”

The sexual tension that had been building up spiked, and you sensed his need to claim you in some capacity was rising to the surface. “Give me your panties,” he ordered, giving you a sharp look. “Now.”

“You’re bossy,” you smiled, pushing your dress higher. He swore under his breath when you gripped your underwear and slid it off, your slick practically dripping from the flimsy fabric. No one ever got you that wet before. “But I kind of like it.”

He chuckled, licking his lips. “You like it because it’s me,” he pointed out, snatching the underwear out of your hand once it was within reach. You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

You trembled when he took his eyes off the road. Pulling your dress over your hips, you obediently spread your legs and let him get a good look at what would soon belong to him. “You like what you see?”

“Just wait until I tie you to my bed and get a real look before I fuck you. It’ll be a shame to wreck something so pretty, but you’ll thank me for it,” he replied, looking back at the road as he sped up. Oh, you’d thank him over and over. “Touch yourself, but don’t put your fingers inside.”

Bringing your hand between your legs, you gasped at how sensitive you were. It was like you were in heat, but fully aware of your surroundings. “Like this?” you asked, moving your fingers along your folds.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his gaze darting between you and the road. You hoped one day he’d fuck your throat while he drove. “Now give me your hand.”

You presented your glistening fingers to him, giving him the opportunity to grip your wrist and suck the wet digits into his mouth. You felt his mouth water from your taste, the groan of arousal in his throat making you shake. He didn’t stop until he licked your fingers clean. “You taste just as divine as you smell,” he said, releasing your hand and reaching over to cup your mound. “And I need more.”

“I need more, too,” you moaned, his palm rubbing your clit and building that ecstasy within you. He teased your dripping hole with another finger, but didn’t push inside yet. You arched your hips, trying to get him to breach you. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl saying please,” he praised, finally pushing a thick finger inside. You clenched around him so tight, your body wanting more. “Fuck, you’re tight. And wet. Made just for me. Imagine how good you’ll feel once you’re stretched around my cock.”

“Want your cock,” you moaned, opening your legs wider. “Want your big cock inside me.”

“Yeah, you do. You want my big, bare cock in your soaked cunt,” he said, pushing another finger in, your slick coating them. You didn’t let anyone fuck you bare before, but you’d let him. “You want my knot, too.”

You moaned, an image of you on your hands and knees flashing in your mind, Bucky’s strong hands pulling you back to meet every thrust until he locked your bodies in place. You could practically feel his teeth sinking into your neck to fully seal your fate. Or would he make love to you, linking your fingers together and kissing you with care as he tenderly pushed his knot in? It didn’t matter. He’d give you everything, and you wanted it all.

“Are you hard just thinking of fucking of me raw?” you moaned, the need to rip the top of your dress open to reveal your breasts strong. No… If your dress was going to get torn to shreds, he could do that himself. “Coming so deep inside me you’ll drip out of me days later?”

The next growl he let out was inhuman, his fingers curling until you cried out. “My good little omega has a dirty mouth on her,” he smirked.

“I do have a dirty mouth. You should fuck it sometime,” you smiled sweetly before your mouth fell open, his expert fingers fucking you deep. Talking dirty to him helped stamp down your emotions a bit, but they were threatening to surface the more he touched you. “Bucky.”

“That’s it. Say my name. Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded. Your back arched, gripping the leather seat until your hand ached. Your body certainly knew who owned you. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you.”

You bit your lip to hold back your whimper, your heart pounding out of control. No one took care of you. No one wanted to until tonight, and you hadn’t wanted that either.

He stopped moving his fingers, keeping perfectly still as you hissed in frustration. Was he really going to build you up and not let you finish? “Tell me,” he demanded again, gentler this time.

Your eyes burned, but you swallowed your pride. Again. “You, Bucky,” you whispered, trusting that he’d be an alpha of his word. “You'll take care of me.”

He cooed when you whimpered, slipping a third finger in and moving them again. “That’s my girl. My good omega. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say,” he praised, so proud of you. Part of you was proud of yourself, too. “Do you need to come?”

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately trying to ride his fingers as the pressure grew. You were so close. Just a little more…

“Then do it. Get that slick all over my hand and seat,” he said, pushing against your bundle of nerves once more as your body locked up. “And say. My. Name.”

Waves of pleasure rolled through you, colors blurring your vision as you cried his name. Your eyes rolled back as the squelching sound of your cunt filled the car, his fingers helping you ride it out. You were drowning, unable to breathe until you broke through the haze. You felt ruined already by his fingers. Oh, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Fuck, that’s it. Give it to me. That’s my good girl. Can’t wait to feel that all over my cock.”

He only removed his fingers when you whined and licked your essence away with a low moan. The beautiful bastard still looked so put together, and hadn’t swerved once while he drove. “Holy shit,” you exhaled, your walls still fluttering. The orgasm took the edge off while leaving you wanting more. “Did I… soak your hand?”

“You did,” he confirmed, your face hot. “Fuck, I’m going to need an entire weekend to eat your sweet cunt just to start,” he said, flashing you a smile. “And you make very pretty sounds when you come.”

You managed a smile as you slumped in the seat, your dress still bunched around your waist. “What do you sound like when you come?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’ll find out,” he promised.

You trembled again when he put his hand back on your thigh, your hand immediately covering his. You needed his touch to ground you, but didn’t want to say so. “I just realized something,” you said once you fully caught your breath.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you’re my mate but you haven’t marked me yet, and you plan to pay for… well, everything for me for the time being,” you said, a laugh bubbling up when you saw that your window was fogged up. You drew a little smiley face, making you laugh more before you glanced at him. “You’re kind of like my sugar daddy.”

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t push it, old man,” you giggled. Though if anyone could sway you, it would be him. “Why don’t we just stick with ‘alpha’ for now?”

“That and Bucky,” he suggested, turning his hand so your palm rested against his. “I like hearing you say my name, doll,” he added in a whisper.

“I like saying your name, Bucky,” you said, your brows furrowing. “But who came up with that nickname?”

He chuckled again, your skin tingling when he lifted your hand to kiss it. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stole a glance at you. Through the heavy scent of your orgasm, you detected joy seeping from him. It made you feel happy, too. “Okay,” he smiled, running his thumb along your hand. “I got the nickname a long time ago…”

You twisted more in your seat to face him as you listened, lost in his voice and smile. There was so much you had to learn about your alpha. His likes and dislikes. What he would be like before, during, and after his ruts. He had a lot to learn about you, too. You wouldn’t give up on your dream of becoming a designer, and accepting his help may not be such a bad thing.

And maybe accepting the fact that you had a mate to depend on wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

So, what do we think so far? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tojisteddy]

smut | 18+ mdni.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley definitely thinks he’s a soft dom.

Wholeheartedly.

He has a lot of patience, he’s cool headed most of the time and knows how to stay that way even if he’s in a sticky situation. Barking out almost everything he says, giving you a good pat to the ass as praise. He’s still getting the hang of understanding all of you, eyebrow cocking up your stupid mistakes. But he’s calm, taking your jaw in his hand to look at him, making sure you don’t get ahead of yourself, takes time to correct you so you can get better at what you need help with.

It’s not like you were bad, no, you just had your off days. ‘Everyone does honey’ Simon reminded you constantly. You were well mannered, politely asking or declining when you needed to.

But my GOD, that brute, he gave you hell.

He’s manhandling you every which way imaginable, folding you like a lawn chair. When you trying to get the rest of his swelling cock inside, whining and clenching around a quarter of him— he’s pinning your hands down with one of his calloused hands, turning you slightly on your side so both of your legs are over his right shoulder and harshly yanking you to look at him by the chin.

“What did daddy say ‘bout bein a greedy bitch mama? You know better.”

Loved putting you in a full nelson so you had to stay there and take every veiny inch of him. He’s calling you everything but a child of god.

“Such a slut, makin a mess all over me. Look at this shit.”

“Squirtin like a fuckin fountain, what a messy fuckin pup. Pretty bitch on my dick, yeah?”

And when you’d refute being his puppy, he’s putting you in doggy style. Pressing his hand on your small of your back to create the meanest arch imaginable, drilling into your gummy walls while pulling at your curls.

“Pantin like a fuckin bitch in heat, ‘nd you say you’re not my pup. Fuckin lie, that is.”

He makes it his mission to fuck you till all you can think about is ‘Simon, simon, simon, daddy, daddy, daddy—‘

And he’s stuffed you completely full, your mixed cum spilling out and forming white rings around his dick. You’re drooling, eyes seeing stars, tears down you beautiful skin and he’s snapping his fingers in your face.

“Hellooooo? earth to [+]? Is that thing on?”

Simon’s laughing at the state of you in the crevice of your neck. He adored to see you absolutely wrecked for him. Overstimulated from cumming too much or edging you till you were babbling, whimpering mess. He scuff, pushing your pretty curls out of your face to properly look at you, relentlessly ramming every inch he could into your sweet spot, you slapped at his shoulder and swore it was all ‘too much’ and how ‘you couldn’t cum anymore.’ But there you were, still a moaning mess, cunt still clinging onto his manhood for dear life and dripping down his thighs.

With a ‘thwack’ to your tender clit, and a tight grip on you’re throat,

“Fucks sake, just shut up and cum already.”

You don’t even know what the fuck is happening to you when you cum. Legs shaking, stomach turning into knots, mouth agape because the moan won’t let itself out. And then you feel it, warm fluid hitting your cervix while Simon’s tip pulses inside you. You pass out for God knows how long, but Simon is yanking you out of the darkness by playfully flicking your temple. You’re still subbed out, immediately going to cling to him like you always do. He’d hum at the action, loved his needy baby. That’s when the soft comes out.

“Did good for me princess. Always been my good girl.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, long day tomorrow, yeah?”

a/n: Simon’s an aggressive lover, it’s true. It’s science.

[zyafics]

can you write about rafe x sarahs bestfriend and reader keeps trying to get with rafe and he rejects her until he finally agrees and teases her around Sarah making reader nervous .. if you find a story like this LMK

truly didn't expect to write today, but ended up doing... this. hope you like it!

SOMEONE NEW | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — Rafe x Sarah's BSF!Female Reader

Content — best friend's brother, fluff, she falls first/he falls harder

Word Count — 1.1K

Song — Someone New by Hozier

“What gives?”

Rafe surprises you. Sitting on a barstool at the Tannyhill estate, you assumed when Rafe returned home, he would ignore you the way he had done all his life. For the past couple of years, you’ve harbored an embarrassing crush on him that amounted to nothing. Sure, you never outright confessed, but you assumed he knew.

He had to.

The way you always strike up a flimsy conversation during late nights in the kitchen from your sleepovers with Sarah. The way you would always try to convince Sarah to join him and his friends at parties—only to be rejected of an invitation. The way you would always search for him to fill your cup, or take you home, whenever you and the Camerons end up at the same function.

You never told him but the signs were there.

Yet, nothing happened.

After spending a summer in the Bahamas, you decided it was time to put yourself first. You changed the way you dressed, the way you style your hair, the way you put on your makeup. It wasn’t for him, it wasn’t to impress him—it was for you. A new version deserved a new update, a new way to love, and you’re pulling out all the stops.

Now, back in Kildare, you’ve resumed your presence at the Tannyhill estate. Sarah invited you over for a sleepover, but she’s currently out getting some of the snacks. Leaving you to your own device, in her house, with the return of her brother.

Whom you didn’t even realize came home.

It fucks with him.

Because he’s used to you, his little sister’s best friend, always gawking at him from across the room. Always fetching him a beer from the fridge, or blushing whenever he comes into your proximity. Neither of that has happened since your return and Rafe can’t lie and say the loss of attention hasn’t bruised his ego.

But it’s something else. Something magnetizing about the air around you. He doesn’t know if it’s the change in styles or the sudden wave of confidence you’re exuding, but it’s different, and it’s intriguing him like never before.

“What?” You ask, lips parting and releasing the chewed-up plastic straw you were sipping on. His gaze drops to the fullness of your wetted lips, the new shade of lipgloss making them appear more delicious than ever before. His heart slightly patters—what the fuck? He thinks to himself. What is going on with me?

“What’s going on with you?” He asks, and your brows pull together. They’re shaped, manicured, threaded, the way he likes his women. But what remains is that subtle dip between your brows, that boasts the look of innocence from your features, reminding him of the same naivety and shy-natured he always adored.

“What do you mean?” You say with a quiet laugh.

“You’re different,” he observes, his eyes tracing the openness of your clothes. You’re wearing a stylistic top, one revealing your navel, and a piercing on your belly button. When the fuck did you get that?

You tilt your head to the side, your doe-shaped eyes blinking at him with pure curiosity. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he admits. You shrink under this proclamation, shoulders tightening, your legs crossing on the barstool, revealing the pretty anklet on your feet, dangling, in a way that makes him imagine what they would look like over his shoulders.

You frown, jutting out your bottom lip, and looking to the floor. “I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly.

“Not—” He pulls back, trying to find the right words. “Not in a bad way. You’re not… you.”

You blink up at him, “Like what?”

You don’t look for me anymore, he concludes, but he finds it pathetic to say. Instead, he settles with: “You’re just different.”

You scrunch your nose at his words, the way they wrinkle, it’s so adorable, he wants to cherish that sight. Rafe finds the courage to ask, “And you’re quiet. You always wanted to talk to me; did some other asshole catch your attention in the Bahamas?”

“Why do you assume they’re an asshole?”

“Most men are,”

“You included?” You ask, tilting your chin to look at him in a sort of challenge.

“Yeah,” he admits after a long silence. “I’m the worst kind.”

It makes you laugh again. In that same carefree, airy laugh that comes with ease. Something about that simple sound unwinds his shoulders, and Rafe takes in the moment as if he can stretch it on for an eternity. Fuck, he thought. What is it?

“What’s so funny?” Rafe asks, his throat suddenly dry. He needs a glass of water, but it’ll be hell before he tries to move from this spot.

“Nothing,” you say with a soft smile, “Just… Self-awareness is always a good first step.”

“So you think I’m an asshole?” He asks, stepping closer. His leg knocks at your feet, causing you to shift your position in a way that accommodates him. You still do that, Rafe recognizes, you’re still making room for him.

Good.

You bobble your head in contemplation, “I don’t think it’s a lie,”

“I can be better,” Rafe declares.

“Sure,” you drawl, unconvinced.

“I’ll be better for you,”

The words came tumbling out without a second thought, and all the presence of air is stolen from your lungs. Your eyes widen into this impossible size, filled with such valiant shock, that you’ve never demonstrated before. He almost wishes he can take back his confession.

But Sarah returns, coming into the room to break the tense air.

“Leave her alone, Rafe,” Sarah snaps, dropping two plastic bags of snacks onto the kitchen island. “Don’t you have some whore to entertain?”

Rafe drops his jaw playfully. “Don’t call your best friend that.”

”I—“ Sarah reddens from the accusation, sliding her gaze apologetically to you, but you laugh it off, gently pushing Rafe’s shoulder, and forcing a gap between you.

He hates it.

“I know,” you answer, smiling at your best friend and shaking your head softly. “He’s being an asshole."

You cut a look over to Rafe with a knowing smile like you’re sharing an inside joke, before returning your attention to your best friend. Rafe had half a mind to grab your chin and force your focus back on him—the other Cameron. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

“Nope,” Sarah shakes her head, grabbing the bags with one hand and using her other one to grab yours. “Let’s go.”

You beam, radiating the same contagious joy as before, but with a new set of layers that Rafe wants to strip down and uncover. Sarah pushes him to the side and moves to the stairs, and as you’re dragged up the steps, you do something you’ve never done before.

You don’t look back.

And in that moment, he realizes, fuck, he might’ve liked you more than he was willing to admit.

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[dilf-docs]

Where Art Thou, Why Not Uponeth Me?

renaldo x younger!reader

summary: he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding. (alternatively: your fun bachelor uncle crashes your sister's wedding and then your pussy in the bathroom while everyone else is drunk or dancing, based on my own tweet)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (50/25), pwp, p. in v., public sex, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, doggy style, bit of degradation + pain + humiliation kink (this combo fr), exhibition kink, forced creampie, no mommy kink but he calls her mami (as in a petname), nasty!reynaldo (he's a chavorruco latin lover asshole with serious commitment and flirting issues), sprinkles of angst ig?

word count: 5,130 words

side note: the snl series is back because i definetely work harder than the devil. yes, don't underestimate a horny touch starved virgin writer who hyperfixiates for a living. this filthy public sex (another episode of the writer's poorly disguised fetish) is inspired by pedro!renaldo in the newest domingo sketch (God, i love marcello my short king) because the crash out i had after it ended (sabrina, bad bunny, andy samberg and pedro all in a room singing espresso they did it for me i fear) and snl 50 in overall was kinda cathartic; i hadn't wrote like this since my sebstan days (wdyk about dilf-docs lore huh). here's some renaldo latin lover dick for you my lovely new citizens BECAUSE WE HIT 1K

You take a sip from the bubbly alcohol, the sweet taste in your lips as you savor your surroundings: music blasting through the speakers, the sound of glasses and cutlery, mellow conversations and the loud buzzing behavior your family is known for; everyone is here.

You lean to your left.

"Tía Elena is a drink away from blacking out" shouting over the music.

"Te apuesto cinco dólares a que se cae en la pista" (i bet you five dollars she falls in the dance floor)

You smile back mischievously at your brother. "Deal"

Your cousin Marcello pops up from behind, hovering like a fly over the food. Was it a thing in your family to be this fucking nosy all the time?

"What are y'all doing?"

Your other cousin Benito joins the circle, speaking over the song:

"They betting Tía Elena will fall again" he laughs, "como en la última reunión" (like in the last meeting)

"Hey! Esa es mi mamá" Marcello protests. (that's my mom)

"Jesus, Beni" you hit his shoulder playfully, "what a snitch"

"There's nothing else going on, is it?" your brother argues back in defense. "Can't blame us for trying to be entertained y tu mamá por no dejar la botella" (and your mom for not putting the bottle down)

"If you all went dancing, like me, you'd had fun" he huffs, crossing his arms.

Benito laughs, "you call that dancing?"

Marcello rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna go somewhere where they appreciate me and the art of moving your body with rhythm"

"Ain't no one stopping you!" your brother quips.

You laugh at the men's antics, looking at the dancefloor. Your eyes catch your sister, moving gracefully in her white dress, that twirls with the music. She's all smiles, and has never looked this pretty before, the happiness bouncing off her like the floral perfume she's wearing, akin to the smell of the flower arrangements hanging on the walls. It may be the day or that you'd always been a romantic, but today you had almost ruined your makeup at every chance: crying over her entrance, over the vows, over the speeches, the first dance... God, you love weddings as much as you love your sister.

"You men are insufferable" you take a long sip, "I need more female energy here but all I see is you" to prove so, your eyes dart across the room, full of drunk tíos laughing loudly while shoving alcohol down their throats, all the women on the dancefloor, where you should be. But you haven't, not since #he stopped showing around to drag you by force.

Benito snickers.

"Si tía Ana hubiera venido, tal vez" (if aunt ana had come, maybe)

You click your tongue, expression awkward. She had stopped coming to the meetings all together, like she had become suddenly allergic to her family.

"Ay, Beni" you sigh. "You know she hasn't been the same since..."

In some ways, you hadn't either.

"Yeah" he agrees.

"Oh, I would've gone mad too, you know" your brothers raises his glass. "After-"

"Well, but she's the one missing out!" Marcello adds with a loud cackle, interrupting him.

Benito looks behind him, smirking "Weren't you gonna leave?"

You all laugh at your younger cousin. "Ustedes ya no tienen respeto por nadie" (you guys don't respect anyone)

"You're supposed to respect your elders" you rob a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, the glass meeting your lips. "Not annoying cousins"

You look at both your brother and Beni, waiting for them to jump on the teasing, but they're both looking at the entrance of the venue. If their jaw is tight, brows furrowed and eyes wide open, it musn't been good.

"Pero, ¿tú me estás jodiendo?" (are you fucking kidding me?)

You follow your cousin Benito's gaze after his little comment, and the tranquil champagne now bubbles in your throat up violently, making you cough.

"What is happening?" Marcello jumps, placing himself in the middle of you all. He looks frantically around, until he meets the object of your attention, specifically, person. "Is that-?"

"Yes" you find your voice after a cough, "its uncle Ren"

In all his glory. Well, more like ex-uncle. But God, didn't he look good? Of course, that's the important part and not finding out the reason why the hell he's showing up to your sister's wedding when he's not legally part of your family anymore, not since about five years ago, when he divorced your aunt Ana. You've only heard of him as of late, your tías whispering past Christmas about how they'd seen Ren at the beach, whistling at younger ladies in clad bikins with his old gang of bachelors he used to run with before settling in. How fitting.

Talking about divorce... It did him good. Not to take digs at your aunt, but as he walks in with that confident strut of his, gold chain on that broad chest of him, glowing under the lights, hair neatly trimmed and gelled back, some more greys on his hair than you remembered, and that mustache and fucking goatee... He flashes everyone a charming smile with his full pearly whites and dimple on display, going to hug your sister who looks as confused and surprised as you do. But uncle Ren always gave the best hugs, so she accepts when he wraps her up in his embrace that smells like sandalwood, leather and cigs, strong arms caging her smaller frame. The biceps flex, and you wonder if he has started hitting the gym, despite his age.

You squirm in your seat, finishing the flute in a long sip that drags like a cigarrette.

"Jesus Christ" your brother shakes his head. "Dude's not got an ounce of shame on that body"

More like that sturdy body.

"Well, that's uncle Renaldo to you" Beni adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ex-uncle" you feel the need to clarify for no reason.

"No puedo creer que se atreva a aparecer después de como terminó todo con la tía Ana" Marcello coaxes. (can't believe he has the nerve to show up after how things ended with aunt ana)

"Divorcing her?" you ask with a barely contained snicker. The men all look at you and sigh.

Alright, your preference to your uncle had never gone completely unnoticed, especially in a family as attentive as yours. But it was impossible not to fall under (ex)uncle Ren's spell: you suppose that is the reason it took your aunt so long to divorce him, despite their broken marriage that had been going on for years. Because while he could be the funniest and most easy-going person in the room, he too was a serial flirter who didn't stop a sleazy smile bearing all his whites or unwarrented compliment coming out of his plump lips. He had never cheated on her, but it was hard to believe he hadn't. Renaldo knew he was hot, and that made him dangerous.

No wonder your aunt clinged so hard to their sinking ship. You still remember how proud she was when he brought him in first. Call him uncle Ren, she had insisted. After that, he started showing up around more, and then there was a ring on her finger she couldn't stop talking about. They were married for ten years, separated for six and divorced since five. Didn't have any kids, despite how much your aunt wanted them. Never had time, probably wasting it crying about his late homecomings and missed calls, mind busy in heart-breaking thoughts and a frail homelife, bound to be torn apart by his bachelor mindset that had been attractive first; how she'd fallen for the man who lighted up your barbacues and taught you how to ride your bike, even kicking an ex-boyfriend's ass once. He couldn't handle all this, he whispered on that seductive voice of his, and it was so hard to not stare and drool like a fucking dog, face burning up. Maybe it started then, when you were twenty, and you hadn't looked back ever since.

"Ah, mis sobrinos!" you all look up, and you know that deep rich sultry voice all too well. (my nephews!)

Speaking of the devil, he's coming to your table, all smiles like all the women who took Ana's side hadn't stopped dancing to glare at him. He gives a loud shout to the men across the room, and they all salute back, despite his reputation, because some of them still saw him at their bar runs, too funny and charming to pass up on his company. Renaldo is wearing something a bit too casual for the occasion, but hot damn, he looks too good.

"Ya no somos tus sobrinos, Ren" Beni corrects, but Renaldo quickly dismisses the younger man. (we're no longer your nephews)

"Familia siempre es familia" he counters. He hugs everyone of you, and when it's your turn, your body can't help but stiffen at first, then relax on arms that do indeed feel stronger. Ren still smells the same. (family is forever)

"You've been hitting the gym, uncle Ren" you giggle, champagne speaking up for you. "Sorry, just Renaldo"

He smirks while licking his lips, like he's savoring the sound of his name only on your voice. "You were always an observer, weren't you, doll?" he oggles you up and down, while your brother scoffs at your heating cheeks. "You look just about fine yourself too"

Those tight black pants, remembering legs you had seen before in shorts, hairy and strong, but what catches you the most is the big silhoutte between them, still noticeable under the strobbing lights. You gulp, and when you look up to him again, his gaze is dark even when he's smirking. You think he's noticed.

"What are you doing here?" your brother cuts the moment, and you have to roll your eyes.

"Coming to my sobrina's wedding, of course" he responds easily, like his answer is supposed to make sense.

"She isn't your nephew anymore, Ren" Benito stands up, his height clashing with his. "So why don't you leave, old man, huh? You ain't welcome anymore"

He opens his mouth, but Beni cuts him.

"And don't give me that familia bullshit. If you cared, you'd have saved your marriage"

Renaldo's jaw tightens as you three watch the tense exchange.

"Yo amaba a tú tía" he defends himself. "All this family" (i loved your aunt)

"Well" your brother is the next to stand up, "you should've showed it when it mattered"

You wish for times to be simpler: when he'd be in the middle of the dance floor, moving while singing along outloud until everyone would be forced to join him, allured by his larger than life character and playful disposition, accompanied by his attractive features. Renaldo was a force of nature that not even you were spared from: his thunderous presence turned your life upside down from the moment you became a woman and your silly crush roamed into deep uncharted territories, where your heart beat too loud and your gaze lingered on the forbidden, taking every wink and compliment uttered by that grave voice of his, savoring all the interactions you could yet it was never enough.

"You should leave" Marcello backs them up, making Renaldo tsk.

"What about you, doll? Want Ren to leave?" you react, body tense when you realize he's talking to you, your brother and cousins waiting for your answer. "We ain't even danced yet, remember? Like before"

"Time's up" a new figure emerges. Papá Francisco, Ana's father and your great uncle. "You should've thought about that before, amigo" friend, spoken in a mocking tone.

"Alright, pops" he chuckles, but it's humorless, while he raises his arms in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see my beautiful girls all grown up on Natalia's special day"

"Just the girls?" a voice scoffs behind. Awesome, now your great aunt is here. "Leave. You have now seen them"

Why can't anyone just mind their own bussiness?

(You probably weren't being fair, but Jesus, couldn't you enjoy a bit of time with a man you crushed on and hadn't seen in five years?)

"Hola, Imelda. Looking nice" and he takes her hand and kisses it. Oh, how you wish to be her, who removes her palm with a flustered face.

"What's going on?"

Now your sister has come to where a small crowd has formed, a frown on her beautiful face. Her husband trails behind.

"Nada, Nati. Tu vuelve a la pista y disfruta tu boda" Beni dismisses. (nothing, nati. go back to the dancing floor and enjoy your wedding)

"Well, you've made it my bussiness by having this conversation on my wedding, as you say" she sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you just leave him alone and we all go back to our thing, yeah?"

"No" Renaldo, who had been quiet, speaks up. "I know where I'm not welcomed" that earns a mocking Do you? from your brother and Beni scoffs. "I'll leave now" then turns around one last time, boots marking their steps with a clicking sound that echoes off the walls, despite the music still playing. "Have a nice life, Nati. Wish you the best"

You watch his back getting farther and farther away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Your heart plummets and you can't he's gone again from your life, just like that.

"Show's over, gente. Go back to the party" Papá Francisco speaks in a harsh tone, filled with finality.

You try, you do, even going to the dance floor with the men, dancing around with a friend of Nati's husband who asks for your Instagram handle when the song ends, but your mind is elsewhere.

"Excuse me" you tell him with a sweet smile, and he makes you swear you'll give him your username when you're back.

Taking advantage on everyone's bliss, you quietly sneak away from the dance floor, walking towards the gardens.

One thing you'll always admire of your sister, is her attention to detail. She had chosen this particular venue for it's ample gardens, choosing for a reception on the open due to the favoring weather conditions on summer.

The dress clings to your body as the windy breezes by, and you hug your body, cursing your heels that have now started to hurt. You spot the rose bushes your sister had trimmed, looking as beautiful as the first day you saw them on the rehearsal.

"You should've stayed inside"

You jump then relax when you see him, cigarrette dangling from his mouth.

"Here" you take out a lighter from your purse. His face comes closer, hot breath on your face until the click casts a small flame that flickers light over his ageing features. He's aged fine like wine, and by the smirk he gives you before taking a drag, Renaldo's aware of it, maybe about the effect he has on you.

"Thank you, sweetheart" his big hand finds its way to the bush, rustling some leaves. In a harsh tug, he cuts a rose, and you laugh in surprise. "Here"

You smile. "I don't think you're supposed to cut these"

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" his hands brush yours when you take the gift. "As beautiful as the lady"

A pool of heat forms in your stomach. He's complimented you before, sure, but never has the air felt this charged before, a lurking dangerous anticipation condensed on his smoke trails and your shaky breaths.

"I'm sorry you had to leave"

Renaldo is still close to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the cigarette; it's intoxicating. Your eyes dart to the chain, and you wonder how would it look-

"They made me leave" he corrects with a chuckle, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

"Right" you laugh, feeling nervous all of the sudden. "My bad, Ren"

"You didn't want me to leave, did you, doll?" the new wave of petnames makes your legs weak. "Also..." he makes a brief pause, the cigarette now dropped and stomped against the grass. "I like the way that sounds"

Before you realize, his fingers are ghosting over your lip, brushing until some of the matte shade coats his calloused thumb.

His fingers then move to your chin, applying a light pressure to your skin, but enough to bruise.

"Say it again"

"W-what?" you ask, barely a breath.

"Say it, y/n" his face is just inches away from yours. You have to bite your lip to hide out a whine from the sound of your name on his voice. "I know you want to"

"R-Ren" you choke out, fluttering eyelids at the way the pressure doesn't falter.

"Now be a good girl and spell my full name like it's the only thing you know"

The following whimper you can't contain it; the praise gets to you.

"Renaldo"

His brown eyes adquire a dark shade that even in the low moonlight, you notice.

"So pliant, doll. For me?"

You nod dumbly, completely fucked out of your mind, warning sirens barely a buzz in the back of your head. Be it the alcohol, or the lack of control you had when it came to him, its impossible to resist the want to fall.

A beat. "Might reward you for that"

He crashes his mouth into yours, full force, in a heated, hungry and messy kiss. He sucks your lips so hard they for sure will bruise, an action very fitting with his strong and absorbing character. His tongue is wet and sloppy, giving you no space to breathe as you grant him access, wrapping your hands around his midsection, pulling him closer.

Renaldo chuckles, letting you gasp for air. "So needy, aren't you? Always were like this. So demanding; wanna have things your way"

"I see you know me well, don't you?" you bat your eyelashes.

"It's impossible to ignore you, you goddamn tease" your fingers trace through his broad back, tanned skin soft that your nails feel the need to dig. You once eavesdropped on your aunt gushing to your tías about how he loved nails-- long fresh manicured nails; red for the win. "Fucking temptress"

Renaldo groans into your mouth. "Think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me with this hungry eyes, huh?" he bites your lips so hard you taste blood. "Might as well just said it"

He forces his tongue inside of you again, making your body squirm as he presses his weight over you, back pinned to the bushes, the leaves tickling your skin. Ren now swallows a whine of yours, dick throbbing hard at your needy sounds.

He then detaches his mouth from yours, a silver string of saliva connecting you two.

"Still can't fucking say it"

But he insists you're the tease.

You cock an eyebrow. "Never was good with words. How about this?"

Renaldo holds your gaze as you descend, until your knees hit the grass. Your fingers toy with his pants until you pull them down, following with his underwear.

"Oh, doll. Consider me interested" as if his cock wasn't leaking with precum.

Your lips begin to wrap around the tip of his cock, then swallow him whole, eager and so fucking cock starved. Soon, you pick up a rapid pace, your tongue doing God knows what but his jaw is tense from keeping the sounds from coming out, but aren't you testing his limits? Slurping on his damn cock like you've been deprived of it all your life. In a way, you have, and you don't waste time in not sucking the living soul out of him.

Your eyes look up, chest warm and pussy wet at the pleasure etched across his face, and he looks at you, at your drooly mess for sucking his dick.

He tugs your hair harshly, making you gag.

"I wanna see you" he gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. "Keep going-"

A grunt escapes his lips, cutting himself off. You clasp your thighs together looking for some pressure to ease yourself a little, your mouth busy still gagging, sank down until you feel his balls. The tip of his cock is buried in your throat, lodged so fucking deliciously in the back. You let it out, and Renaldo groans.

"The fuck you do that for?" comes out his complain, voice strained.

"I needed my mouth to speak" you clean some drool on your face. "Need you to do something for me" he clears his throat as letting you speak. "I want you to fuck my mouth"

"Carajo, muñeca" you place a little kiss on his inner thigh. "You're so fucking dirty, who would've thought?" (fuck, doll)

Your chest rises and falls, lips parted while a string of saliva coats them.

"Alright, wanna see if you're just talk, you cock hungry whore" Ren smirks devilishly. "I'm gonna ruin the fuck out of you"

He gathers you by your hair and shoves you back down, hips bucking with a movement so brash you choke. Your pretty eyes water and your fake eyelashes get wet. Renaldo continues to buck his hips up and force you down, choking and spit sounds making his dick hard as he throws his head back with half-lidded eyes.

His big cock stuffing your throat feels like a dream and he knows you're enjoying it.

A little content smile graces his lips, and he can feel his abdomen tightening. He bucks his hips up faster, forcing your head down deeper, panting as you gag on his cock, and when his grip on your hair falters and his body shakes, you know he's close.

"Little slut" he teases with a hoarse voice, "do you want to eat my cum that badly?"

Your answer comes in the form of sucking him off to drive him to the edge, refusing to pull out.

"Entonces hártatelo, puta" (then gorge on it, slut)

He fills your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you can while he holds you in place. You gasp for air when he finally lets you go, a mix of cum and drool running down your chin.

"A fucking expert, doll. Five stars" his finger brushes over your skin. "Look at this mess 'cause you were too fucking hungry. Lick it"

Your chest heaves, but you get close to the fingers, sucking on them. It tastes like him and you, the sensation making both your cunt and chest warm. You don't hold yourself back and look at him all the time, the sucking sound as obscene as the latest.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the night, you can't think of anything else.

But then leaves rustle, yet none of you have moved.

"Y/n?"

Shit, It's Beni. You then recognize Marcello and your brother, trailing behind.

"Looks like we gotta go" he laughs, amused. You can only feel your face burn. "Ah, no te preocupes, muñeca. I know a place. Follow me" (don't worry, doll)

Renaldo has taken you to a fucking bathroom, just meters away from the venue. But the music is loud, and no one notices the two people hurriedly getting inside, like dumb horny teenagers.

"Jesus" he pants, and you click the door. He reaches for your face, carressing your warm skin before ghosting over your lips. "Now, where were we?"

The kiss.

Again, it's rushed, rough and impatient, like he too had been waiting a lifetime to taste you.

Renaldo pushes you against the bathroom's wall, making you moan when his larger frame cages yours. You're drowning of him: his smell, his sweat that starts to pool, the heat radiating off his body, the view you have of his veins and tense muscles, that fuckass chain... It's all now yours.

He gropes your body, testing forbidden waters until now. Then, his hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. His greedy fingers wander into the upper cut of your dress without any warning and head for your clit. The older man hisses, feeling your wet patch, rubbing teasingly through the thin material of your laced panties you now feel lucky to have chosen, arousing you even more. You feel them damp and sticky while tilting your head back in pleasure and he takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone. 

"Renaldo" you moan his name as his tongue licks the exposed skin of your collarbone, trailing dangerously close to the valley of your tits, pushed up thanks to the dress. He bites down on the crook of your neck, skin inviting.

"Glitter, baby?" he chuckles at how it seems to shimmer. Your friend Sabrina had convinced you to do it, even borrowing you hers; it smelled like vainilla.

"What's this, huh? You youngsters never fail to amaze me" with a sleazy smile that makes your pussy clench, more when he open his mouth to show you his sparkling tongue.

"Oh? We're just getting started" you pant as his fingers slide through the seam of your panties, gracing your entrance. "I'm full of surprises"

"Little minx, I like that sassy mouth of yours" you roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers, "we're about to find out"

You repeat the motion, cunt aching for his touch, but end up gracing his pulsating strained bulge with your upper belly in the process. He stops, the black pants looking uncomfortable-- fighting to be freed.

"Fuck, mami. Need'a be inside you" you nod too eagerly, lips parted open. His hand graces your ass. "Now turn around"

You obey without thinking twice, and he pushes your face down on the counter with a harsh demanor.

"You won't move, right?" you hum, despite his hand placing on your neck and the other grabs your waist hashly, fingers digging in the skin to keep you still. You whimper at the light pain, "Good girl"

He pulls down your panties until they fall down to the floor, then hikes your dress up, exposing your ass.

"Nice, mami" he whistles, "I like what I see"

To prove so, he uses his hands to part your legs and spread them open, his other hand undoing his pants for the second time during that night.

"Tell me how much you want this" but he's already pushing the head of his cock into your folds. His tip brushes your soaking clit, and it sends a delicious but painful shiver that coarses through your body.

"Badly" you cry out.

"Tus deseos son órdenes, muñeca" he purrs. "Despite it all, I'm a gentleman" (your wish is my command, doll)

In one swift move, he pushes his length into your slick folds. "So wet, doll. 'S it for me?" you nod and he laughs, "gonna reward you for that"

He pulls his cock out and then slams it all inside, burying himself to the hilt.

You jerk under his hold at the sudden move, feeling all his girth in your walls, trying to take him. A breathy moan falls from your lips.

"Shh, don't move" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "music is loud but it ain't gonna do miracles to cover up those slut sounds out of you"

He doesn't ask for permission, only increasing the pressure of your face against the counter, the cold burning against your cheek, and begins to move inside of you, soon picking up an erratic pace, his pelvic area slamming into your ass. Fuck, your eyes sting from the brutal force of each thrust as he forces into you, movements sloppy, and the obscene sound of skin clapping against skin feeling the now feeling even smaller bathroom, that is starting to get hotter and more humid. You can't really see the mirror, but can imagine it fogging up.

"Tell me how it feels" Renaldo pants, his grip on your waist increasing in pressure. "Wanna hear you say how much you love my cock, little puta" (whore)

"S-so goo-good" you sputter out.

"'S that why you had to suck me off in the garden?" he chuckles darkly. "Couldn't even fucking wait, didn't care to be caught like a fucking whore by tus primos y hermano. No, you wanted Renaldo's cock so fucking badly you got on your knees as soon as he came back into your life" his words should make you feel embarrassed, but you moan at the string of humiliating and lewd words. "Bet you thought about it since forever, heh? You opportunist cocksleeve. That you touched yourself to this even when I was with Ana"

"C-couldn't help it, Ren. Wanted you so so bad" you cry. "Always have"

"Fucking filthy little shit" he whistles, "you're no good girl. You're a real bad girl"

You whine, turning into a moaning mess, blabbering nonsense.

"I-I need to-"

"Go on, tell Renaldo what you need"

"Need to c-cum" you gasp, walls clenching around his cock, your eyes battling to remain open.

He leans down, bitting your earlobe. Then, he kisses it, his smokey scent carresing your hot skin.

"Go on, baby. Wanna see you take all of my seed until it drips from your legs" he grunts, his thrusts sloppy and messy like his kisses. "I need'a see you walkin' back inside so everyone knows what you did, you filthy slut. For everyone to see what's mine"

You see stars, pussy gushing over his dick. His thrusts loose rhythm, and you know he's out for blood.

"W-wait!" you feel the overestimulation as his dick twitches inside you.

"You said you'd behave" he pants, his hold still firm. "So don't be such a fucking bitch and let me cum too, mami. You aren't cruel, are you?"

"N-no"

"Then you'll let me do this" his cock spasms, "and this"

His seed spurts inside of you, thick whiteness dripping down your ass and thigh as your pussy milks it. Some spills on the floor, some drops on your dress and some on his pants, black pants, making him hiss.

"Fuck" he curses, while pulling out. "See that?"

"Oh, I see" you chuckle dryly. "But you forget only one of us is going back to the wedding"

He chuckles, taking in the sight of you: dress ruined, hair damp, run makeup and cum-stained legs. Despite it all, you're still so pretty, and he can't believe a girl he used to call sobrina five years ago has now taken his dick like a fucking champ. Renaldo tugs some loose strands behind your ear, sleazy smiling at you.

"I have a solution" his finger traces your arm, taunting.

You want to stretch your time with him. God knows when you'll see him again.

"Yeah?"

"No awkward questions, no explanations, and more of this" he signals his dick; it's still pulsating, dear Lord. How old was this guy again?

You shouldn't bear any hopes or hop on his truck that probably reeks of ashes and rum. But you never had any sense when it came to Renaldo, and now that you've tasted him, nothing will ever be the same.

"I'm all ears"

[sonrium]

Bruce is obviously shocked by this stunt double that looks almost exactly like him. After a thorough investigation and a modified test that accounts for the strange substance bonded to his DNA, Bruce finds out that they have no family relation, and they really do just happen to look like each other.

Danny is doing his best to get out of the limelight. He had his moment of fame as a teen, and that was more than enough for one lifetime. If he never has to see another shrine to himself again, it will be too soon. The thought of it makes him shiver. Of course the movie's producer sees this as free publicity and only fuels the media fire.

When some raw footage of one of his film sessions 'leaks,' a massive media flurry of "do the butts match?" whips the media storm into a full-blown tornado. Because Batman is the only one who could pull off stunts like that in real life. Danny's further denials just make everything worse, until Batman himself shows up next to Danny to prove his innocence before it can get too far. (Much to the producer's consternation)

Everything quiets down after that, much to Danny's relief. It's not perfect, and the rumors of long lost twins still circulate, but it's bearable. Even the proof of Danny's parentage isn't enough to dissuade the more zealous fans. He just needs to finish filming and get the hell out of dodge.

Filming is almost over when disaster strikes.

A villain (maybe the Riddler), somehow catches a glimpse of Batman without his mask and knows its Bruce freaking WAYNE under there.

Knowing that facing Batman head on to unmask him was a doomed endeavor, they target Bruce Wayne instead. They publicly kidnap him with a live broadcast to all of Gotham. Multiple cameras showing every angle of Bruce tied to a chair while the villain rambles. Bruce can't so much as twitch in a competent manner, or his Brucie persona will be done for. No morse code blinking. No falling in a convenient manner. Nothing. The villains claims that he is Batman aren't confirmed, the idea is already planted. There's no way out of this.

So it's up to the Batfam to arrange the rescue, and they knew exactly what to do!

The solution is obvious. They need Batman to rescue Bruce on live television such that nobody could suspect a fake Batman or impersonator. This would clear Bruce's name completely and blackmailed material for the future. This wouldn't be the first time they've needed to pull the ol' switcharoo.

Naturally, Batman swoops in like an avenging tide of darkness. Beats up the villain and their goons in true Batman fashion, with an amazing fight full of flips and punches and leg sweeps all while bouncing off walls and wrapping goons up in cables and whatever else is around. There is no doubt. This is the real Batman. Only someone who has been fighting for justice their entire lives can move like that, all while expertly protecting the hostage.

All too quickly in the viewers' opinions, the villain is tied to the very chair they trapped Bruce to. But the show wasn't over. Bruce was on the floor, legs shaking too much to stand. Without a word, Batman effortlessly lifts Bruce bridal style and carries him to safety. Never one to miss an opportunity, Brucie Wayne immediately starts batting his eyelashes and flirting enough to make grandma blush. Batman's stoic expression doesn't even twitch as they exit frame and out of sight.

As soon as they make it to a safely secluded spot away from prying eyes and ears, 'Batman' sets Bruce down then promptly doubles over laughing.

Used to it, Bruce rolls his eyes and sighs. "I'm surprised you showed up, Dick."

Instead of answering the unasked question of 'how did you get back so fast when you were supposed to be off planet,' 'Batman' is far too busy suffocating and collapses to the ground.

He finally answers when the giggles subside enough to breathe again. "H-How-How-How do you keep a straight face like that?! I almost pissed myself when you started squeezing my bicep and calling me 'hunkaliscious'!"

Bruce freezes. That wasn't Dick's voice.

"Who are you?"

"Do you call everybody that saves you a dick? Or am I special?" Danny bounces to his feet, pulls the cowl back, and gives a dramatic bow with a wink. "Your one and only stunt double, at your service."

"How?"

Danny lifts his hands in innocence. "Not my fault! I was trying to avoid getting involved with your nightlife. Been there, done that. But when a bunch of color coded teenagers try to kidnap you? I make an exception. Plus, I have to admit, this suit makes me feel like a badass. How are you not grinning like an idiot all the time strutting around with a cape?" Danny pulls it up to his face like a cheesy vampire. "I am the night."

"How did you figure it out?" Bruce pulled out all his Batman intimidation. This is bad. This is bad. This is really, really bad. A civilian knows his identity. And it sounds like he's known for awhile.

Danny just gives him an unimpressed look, not the least bit intimidated. Honestly, Bruce looks like a puffed up kitten trying to be threatening. "Normal people don't reak of death. I've had you clocked since the "do the butts match?" incident. Thanks for the save, by the way. The last thing I need are more stalkers. Those guys are ruthless. You can keep 'em'."

Bruce stares him down.

Danny sobers when he senses Bruce's anxiety. "Don't worry. I know how important secret identities are. I promise no one will learn about it from me."

Something in his voice and eyes makes Bruce relax. He believes it.

That's when a rainbow horde of teenagers vault down into the alley, practically jumping on Danny who laughs along with their antics. They ramble about how perfect he was and where did he learn that one wall run then flip combo, completely forgetting Bruce.

He'd have to fix that. He clears his throat. "Does anybody want to explain whose idea it was to force a civilian to impersonate me?" The response is instant. Everyone falls silent then scatters.

Danny looks at Bruce with a grin. "Can I watch you lecture them? I reeeeeeally want to watch you lecture them."

Maybe letting this civilian hang around for a bit wouldn't be such a bad idea. It was always good to have a back up plans anyway, and Dick couldn't always be around when he needed a double. This was just for contingencies. Nothing else.

Bruce couldn't help a slight smile of his own. "I could arrange something."

Danny has been having issues trying to find a job that allows him to use his powers. He’s no longer in the superhero scene anymore but why not still put his powers to use?

After successfully gaining a job as a Stuntman, he didn’t know what he signed himself up to do but he took multiple classes to prepare and fell in love with the profession. His powers letting him further excel in his career as things like flight, intangibility, and duplication all were things that studio heads were delighted of as it lessened the cost of production.

Stuntman don’t get a lot of recognition by average film goers which is fine for Danny. Staying under the radar and living a normal life is all he could ever ask for.

Sadly for Danny, that anonymity didn’t last forever. Danny was hired as a stunt performer in a 90s satire esque autobiography movie written and starring the Gotham Billionaire Bruce Wayne.

During an on set interview midway though Bruce explaining to the interviewer that Hot Shots was his biggest inspiration for this film, Danny casually walked behind the set, just trying to get to the costume department and thinking nothing of being temporarily on camera behind the Billionaire.

The day the interview was uploaded onto YouTube, Danny’s phone was blowing up from messages from his friends and family telling him he had become an internet sensation overnight. It turns out his casual walk behind Bruce Wayne led to the internet losing their minds trying to find the Bruce Wayne look-alike. I mean, Danny DID become Bruce’s primary stunt double because he looked so similar, that’s the whole point of stunt doubles, but Danny didn’t think it was THAT similar.

[cloudyluun]

Epilogue: Home. | single-parent!harry

Summary: Life with Harry was already perfect—but now, it’s getting even bigger. Between lazy mornings, chaotic family dinners, and one very unexpected but very wanted baby on the way, you finally have the life you never thought you’d get. Telling Theo and Lily is a disaster (obviously), Harry won’t stop touching your belly, and somehow, your home is even louder, messier, and more full of love than ever before.

And you wouldn’t change a single thing.

A/N: Listen. I know what I did. And I’d do it again. 😌

Was this entire epilogue an excuse to write Dad!Harry in his domestic, protective, lovesick era? Yes. Did I also write it because I got this request that literally said “This will make you feral and want Harry’s babies”? Also yes.

But honestly, was I wrong?

Harry cooking breakfast with Theo and Lily while Y/N waddles around pregnant and happy?Harry whispering sweet nothings to Y/N’s belly every night like a lovestruck fool?Harry completely wrecked over pregnant!Y/N, praising her like a goddess, and making sure she feels worshipped?

No. I was absolutely correct. And I stand by that.

Anyway, I hope you love this, I hope it makes you emotionally unstable, and I hope you walk away knowing one universal truth:

Harry Styles was made to be a husband and a dad.

Love you. Mean it.

Wordt Count: 3k

Warnings:

Sickeningly sweet domestic fluff (read at your own risk)

Pregnancy (planned but unexpected, lots of soft moments, protective!Harry in full force)

Theo and Lily being tiny menaces and taking full credit for everything

So much baby talk, you might want to start nesting yourself

Harry’s hands permanently attached to Y/N’s belly

Bonus smut: Pregnant sex, praise kink, filthy but loving, Harry being absolutely wrecked for his woman

Aftercare that will make you cry

The phrase "I love our baby so much" whispered like it’s the most sacred thing in the world

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You never thought this would be your life.

Not the lazy Sunday mornings tangled in Harry’s sheets, his body warm and solid beside you.

Not the quiet evenings where you cooked dinner together—where he stole bites of food off your plate and kissed your forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Not the mornings filled with coffee and pancakes and laughter, where Lily and Theo sat on the floor with their coloring books, bickering over which one of them was the better artist while Harry rolled his eyes fondly.

You never thought you’d get to have this.

But you did.

And God, you wanted to hold onto it forever.

--

It had been months since that night.

Months since you’d stopped running.

Since you had let him in.

And in that time, everything had changed.

Not in the loud, dramatic way you used to fear.

Not in the way that left you panicked and breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But in the quiet way. The sure way.

In the way that made Sunday morning grocery runs feel like an adventure, because Harry let the kids pick out ridiculous snacks while you pretended to scold him for sneaking extra things into the cart.

In the way that made movie nights feel like home, because Theo would fall asleep halfway through, and Lily would always insist on using Harry’s shoulder as a pillow, and you’d end up curled into his side—his arm draped around you, fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin.

In the way that made your chest ache, because this wasn’t temporary.

This wasn’t something fragile.

This was real.

--

You realized it fully one evening, standing in Harry’s kitchen, watching him without him realizing it.

He was helping Theo with his homework, brow furrowed in concentration as he leaned over the table, listening intently while Theo explained something about a science project.

And Lily—Lily was sitting beside him, doodling absentmindedly in the margins of her own worksheet, occasionally nudging Theo and smirking when he huffed in annoyance.

It was so simple.

So mundane.

And yet, something inside you broke wide open.

Because this wasn’t just Harry’s house anymore.

It wasn’t just his space.

It was yours, too.

A place where your daughter laughed freely. Where you left your books scattered on the nightstand. Where there was a drawer of your clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush beside his in the bathroom.

You had slipped into his life.

And the most shocking thing was that…

You fit.

Perfectly.

Completely.

Like you had been meant to be there all along.

--

You didn’t say anything that night.

Didn’t mention the realization, didn’t try to put it into words.

But Harry noticed.

Because he always did.

When the kids had finally gone to bed, when you had curled up beside him on the couch, his fingers tracing absentmindedly along your thigh—he looked at you.

And just like that, you knew.

He knew it, too.

This was it.

This was forever.

--

The first time Harry called you his girlfriend was at Theo’s soccer game.

It was casual, slipped into conversation without a second thought.

One of the other parents had asked about the two of you, smiling in that knowing way people did when they’d already assumed the answer.

And Harry—**without hesitation, without looking at you first to check if it was okay—**had just said, "Yeah, Y/N’s my girlfriend."

Like it was obvious. Like it was something he didn’t even have to think about.

And the best part?

It didn’t send you into a spiral.

Didn’t make you want to run.

Because, for once…

You weren’t afraid of being someone’s.

Not when it was him.

--

The first time you said it back, you didn’t even realize you had.

It was late.

You were all piled onto the couch, the kids asleep between you, the credits rolling on some animated movie none of you had really been paying attention to.

Harry’s hand was resting low on your back, his breathing even, the room quiet, still, peaceful.

And you—**without thinking, without hesitating—**had whispered, "Love you."

Not as a grand declaration.

Not as something huge or dramatic.

Just as a fact.

As something that had been true for longer than you’d been willing to admit.

And Harry—still half-asleep, still groggy and warm and impossibly perfect—had hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head.

"Love you, too, sweetheart."

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Like it was inevitable.

Like he had never once doubted it.

--

The first time you talked about forever, you were cooking dinner.

Harry had been chopping vegetables, Theo sitting on the counter beside him, chattering about his day.

And Lily—with zero warning, with the blunt force of a child who didn’t know how to sugarcoat things—had just said, "Mummy, are we ever gonna live here?"

You had frozen.

Harry had paused.

And Theo—completely oblivious to the weight of the moment—had just shrugged.

"Yeah, you basically already do."

And Harry—

Harry had just looked at you.

Not with pressure.

Not with expectation.

Just with certainty.

Like he knew the answer already.

Like he was just waiting for you to catch up.

--

So, you did.

Three months later, you packed up the apartment you had built your new life in.

And you moved in with him.

With Theo.

With your family.

And you didn’t second-guess it.

Didn’t overthink it.

Because for the first time in your life, forever didn’t feel like something that could fall apart.

It felt like something you could hold onto.

Something that had been waiting for you all along.

--

One night, long after the kids had gone to bed, long after the house had settled into comfortable silence, you curled into Harry’s side, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

"Did you ever think we’d end up here?" you murmured, voice soft, sleepy.

Harry hummed, pulling you closer, fingers threading through your hair.

"Yeah," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smiled against his skin. "Really?"

"Mmhm." His lips curved against your forehead. "Theo and Lily decided for us, remember?"

You laughed, shaking your head.

Harry pulled back, tilting your chin up until your eyes met his.

His expression softened.

"Best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered.

And you—

You kissed him.

Because there was no doubt in your mind anymore.

He was it.

Forever.

Your life was full.

It was good.

And soon, it was about to get even bigger.

--

You’d known for weeks.

The first sign had been exhaustion—more than usual. You’d chalked it up to late nights, to work, to trying to keep up with two chaos-wielding children and a ridiculously affectionate boyfriend who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.

Then came the mood swings.

The tears over a burnt pancake.

The sudden, undeniable craving for oranges at midnight.

And finally, the truth had stared you in the face in the form of two pink lines.

Pregnant.

You had sat on the bathroom floor for a long time, staring at it, heart pounding, head spinning, stomach flipping.

Because you were happy.

Really, truly, unbelievably happy.

And that was the part that scared you the most.

Because happiness like this? It felt too good to last.

But when you finally told Harry—**voice shaking, heart in your throat, fingers twisting nervously in his t-shirt—**he had just smiled.

And then he had kissed you.

And then he had knelt in front of you, hands on your waist, pressing his forehead against your stomach.

And then, voice thick, barely a whisper:

“We’re having a baby?”

And when you had nodded—when the words had finally settled between you—he had wrapped his arms around you, held you like he never planned to let go, and laughed.

Like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Like you had just given him the world.

--

Telling Theo and Lily was another story.

Because they were menaces.

Because they would absolutely take credit for this.

And because you had no idea how they were going to react.

You and Harry had spent an entire week going back and forth. How do we tell them? When do we tell them? Should we make it fun? A surprise? A game?

But in the end, the kids decided for you.

Because of course they did.

--

You were sitting in the living room, curled into Harry’s side, your hand resting lightly over your stomach as Theo and Lily played a game on the floor.

And then, out of nowhere, Theo looked up and said—

"When are you guys having a baby?"

You choked on your tea.

Harry tensed beside you.

Lily scrunched up her nose. "Theo, you can’t just ask people that!"

Theo shrugged. "Why not? They’re obviously in love. People in love have babies."

Harry pressed his fist against his mouth, shoulders shaking.

You glared at him. Don’t you dare laugh.

Theo looked between the two of you, suspicious. "Wait a second…"

Lily gasped. "ARE YOU HAVING A BABY?"

Silence.

Harry turned to you, one brow raised, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your call, love.

You sighed, setting your tea down before glancing at the kids.

And then, softly:

"Yeah. We are."

For a second, nothing.

And then—

Absolute chaos.

Lily screamed.

Theo cheered.

Lily launched herself at you, hugging you so tightly you thought you might fall over. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I’M GONNA BE A BIG SISTER!"

Theo, meanwhile, turned to Harry and held out his fist.

"Nice one, Dad."

Harry barked out a laugh, bumping his fist against Theo’s. "Thanks, mate."

And then, just like that, the room was filled with laughter, excitement, a million questions.

When is the baby coming? Can we pick the name? Do we get to help? Are we sharing a room? Is it a boy or a girl? Can we have a puppy, too?

Harry pulled you against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"See?" he murmured. "Told you they’d take it well."

You smiled, watching as Theo and Lily started making a very dramatic list of possible baby names.

"Yeah," you whispered. "You were right."

And for once—**for the first time in forever—**you weren’t afraid of being happy.

Because this?

This was home.

And now, it was just getting a little bigger.

--

Life after that was loud.

It was chaotic.

It was perfect.

Mornings were a blur of sleepy kisses and coffee and Harry pressing a hand to your stomach every time he walked past you.

Afternoons were spent at doctor’s appointments, picking out baby clothes, letting Theo and Lily argue over whether they wanted a little brother or sister.

(Theo wanted a brother. Lily wanted both. You and Harry were mildly terrified.)

And nights—nights were yours.

Wrapped in Harry’s arms, his hands tracing over your belly, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.

"Can’t believe we’re doing this.""You’re so beautiful like this, love.""I’m gonna love this baby so much. And you. Always you."

And every single time, you felt it—the weight of what you had built. The life you had made. The family you had created.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And neither would Harry.

Because ever since you told him you were pregnant, he had been soft with you—softer than ever before.

Not that he wasn’t always soft with you—but now?

Now, it was different.

Now, it was gentle hands on your stomach whenever he passed by. Now, it was offloading all the housework, refusing to let you lift a finger. Now, it was pulling you onto his lap at night, rubbing slow circles into your back until you melted against him.

It was sweet. Perfect, even.

But tonight?

Tonight, you needed more.

And you could tell, by the way Harry was looking at you—dark eyes flickering between your lips and the swell of your belly—that he needed more, too.

So when you shifted against him—**rolling your hips just slightly where you straddled his lap, teasing, testing—**he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Careful, love," he murmured, his fingers tightening on your thighs.

You tilted your head, running your hands up his chest. "Why?"

His jaw ticked. His grip tightened.

"You know why."

You smirked.

And then, deliberately—slowly—you rolled your hips again.

Harry groaned. "Fuck, Y/N—"

"You’ve been treating me like I’m fragile," you whispered, pressing your mouth to his jaw, kissing along his neck.

He exhaled sharply, his hands trembling against you. "Because you are."

You pulled back, meeting his gaze, your fingers tracing the edge of his t-shirt. "Harry. I’m pregnant. Not breakable."

He swallowed hard, eyes flickering down to where your belly pressed against him.

You could see the hesitation in his face. The battle between wanting you, needing you, and being afraid of hurting you.

So, you leaned in—pressing your lips to his, slow and deep, whispering against his mouth—

"Please, Harry."

And that?

That was all it took.

Because in the next breath, he had you on your back.

Mouths crashing together, hands desperate, his body pressing you into the mattress.

"You want me like this?" he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone. "Like this, baby?"

You whimpered. "Yes. Yes, please—"

He groaned against your skin, one hand sliding between your legs, teasing you through your underwear.

"Fuck, love," he rasped. "You’re soaking."

You gasped, arching into him, thighs trembling as his fingers stroked over you, teasing, torturing.

"Been neglecting you, haven’t I?" he muttered, his voice thick, wrecked.

You couldn’t even respond—not when he was slipping his fingers beneath the fabric, not when he was spreading you open, groaning when he felt how ready you were for him.

"Christ," he hissed, pressing a finger inside you, curling it just right.

You cried out, gripping his biceps, barely able to breathe.

"More," you begged. "Harry, more."

And fuck—

He gave it to you.

Another finger, stretching you, working you open, his mouth hot against your neck, his breathing heavy.

"Love having you like this," he murmured. "All soft and warm and—fuck—taking everything I give you."

You whined, grinding against his hand, so close, so close—

But before you could fall, before he could push you over the edge—

He pulled away.

You gasped, nearly sobbing. "Harry—"

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing your belly before sitting back on his heels, shoving his sweats down, fisting himself in his hand.

Your mouth went dry.

Because—fuck—

You had felt him against you before, had been with him countless times, but somehow, seeing him like this—

Hard and desperate and completely wrecked for you—

You clenched around nothing, whimpering, needing him inside you, needing everything.

"Harry, please," you whispered.

And he gave you exactly what you asked for.

He pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust, groaning as he sank into you, his head falling forward, his hands bracing on either side of your head.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You gasped, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. "Harry—"

"Christ, love," he panted, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your lips. "You feel so fucking good."

And then, he moved.

Slow at first. Deep. Precise. Like he wanted you to feel every single inch of him.

And you—fuck, you were drowning in him.

The way he touched you, the way he filled you completely, the way he kept murmuring the sweetest, filthiest things into your skin—

"Love you like this." "Never been more beautiful." "Carrying my baby, taking my cock so fucking good—"

You were gone.

It didn’t take long.

Your body was already buzzing, already so close from the way he had touched you earlier.

So when he slipped a hand between you, rolling his fingers over your clit, whispering, "Come for me, sweetheart,"

You shattered.

Your entire body clenched around him, your orgasm crashing through you, pleasure rippling through every inch of your skin.

And Harry followed.

With one last deep thrust, one last ragged moan of your name, he spilled inside you, his body shuddering against yours, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Just heavy breathing, warm kisses, whispered I love yous.

And then—

Harry pulled back, gazing down at you, eyes flickering between your face and your stomach.

And softly, reverently, completely wrecked:

"I love you, and I love our baby so fucking much."

You exhaled, cupping his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

"I love you, too," you whispered.

And then, you kissed him.

Because this was it.

This was everything.

--

One morning, months later, you woke up to find Harry already gone from bed.

Frowning, you padded into the kitchen, only to find him standing there—Theo on one side, Lily on the other, all three of them squinting at a pan of very questionable-looking pancakes.

You raised a brow. "What is happening here?"

Harry turned, smirking. "Makin’ breakfast for my girl."

You snorted. "For me or for the baby?"

Lily gasped. "The baby wants pancakes!"

Theo nodded sagely. "Yeah. Mum’s gotta eat double now. She’s basically a superhero."

You bit back a smile, stepping closer as Harry handed you a plate, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Morning, love," he murmured.

You exhaled, looking around at them.

Your people.

Your home.

Your everything.

"Morning," you whispered.

And then—

You smiled.

Because your life?

It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

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

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[kyri45]

Can you do another q&a

Sure thing

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 18/02✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@snsp6 ha chiesto: Don’t know if this was answered but what was the inspiration for bio parents au??

no inspiration. just my stupid brain not being able to like something without taking my whole life.

@roseltelle ha chiesto: Are you ok with AUs I was thinking about writing a fanfic. Basically with a younger Mk. Events of the show haven't happened yet, Wukong and Macaque aren't on ok terms yet (Slow Burn) unlike the show.

I don't think I understood. You're asking if you can do an AU of my AU?

@mistress-of-nightmares ha chiesto:YOU MENTIONED YOU HAD MK'S FINAL OUTFIT READY SINCE LIKE SUMMER, IS IT GOING TO BE THIS PRINCE-RELATED THEMED??? (sorry for all caps it just came to me and I screamed)

that's not the only one I already had in mind.

@shaya21 ha chiesto: Hey kyri I have a question maybe that was already ask and you answer it, so sorry if you did but does macaque, wukong and mk purr in your au ? When they are really relaxed and with someone they trust, like mk when he fall asleep in redson arm in the last chapter. That’s all And thanks you for making such a good au, that’s something I really appreciate (my life his based on😅)

No I don't think they purr.

@mysticanchorcheesecake ha chiesto: I just wanted to say.. I LOVEEE UR ART AKCIFdkfkdKckd!!! *Calms down mentaly* i a HUGE fan of ur parenting au.. thats it luv u ^^

Thank youu!!!!

@kilani-123 ha chiesto:Does Mk know that Wukong and Macaque are still engaged?👀

no

@deafeningcolortastemaker ha chiesto: Hi Kyri45!!!I have a little question for you and for Spicynoodleshipping.....WILL THERE BE MORE MK AND RED SON KISSED???I'm very worried. I really love spicynoodleshipping, and I would like you to release some pictures of spicynoodleshipping more often.😆 Well, good night to me, since it's 11 pm in Russia.Well, good! It's time for me to sleep, until the next Kyri45 meeting!!!

yes

@angelsbunnies ha chiesto: Was MK freaking out when he got sucked back cause he couldn’t finish adding more details to his little doodle?

poor baby yes he was.

@metalheaded-freak ha chiesto: Kyri, I just wanted to say… thank you, for creating the Bio Parents Au, it’s been such an emotional journey and honestly? If it wasn’t for you then I wouldn’t have gotten into the fandom the way I did. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you were the gateway for me to fully embrace this fandom and not be afraid to show what I do, so once again thank you!

awww tysm!!!

@ddle-lrd ha chiesto: GELLO (help gello lol) IM A HUGE FAN OF YOUR SHADOWPEACH BIO PARENTS AU AND CURRENTLY TAKE YOUR ART COURSE! I really wanted to know if the series will (unfortunately and reasonably) come to an end? Will S9 be the last or second last? (Like before the last season) Again, big fan and big supporter of your art even though i can’t support you financially besides the art course -L0S :))))

Awww tysm for all the support!

Also yes the Part 9 is the last part of the main story.

@peachy-pies-random-stuff ha chiesto: Hi Kyri! Me and my partner have been reading the Shadowpeach bio parents AU together and we're both addicted to it! Also the thing you said about writing uncharted territories..... Should we all be worried??? 🤨🤨🤨

I mean.... yes and no?

@land-of-frogs-and-dragons ha chiesto: Your monkie kid au is gonna get me to watch Lego monkie kid ngl,,,, saw your au on TikTok and went "oh I can't NOT watch this" and haven't regretted it since. 10/10 I love your art style and you draw mk's hair so fluffie I love everything about your art style and your au

thank you! heheh he has fluffy hair.

@pensoul2 ha chiesto: I was looking back at the LMK Bio AU and Redson's hair. His hair got me wondering if he ever tried cutting it. Would the scissors or the object cut his hair melt?

omg I want to believe that yes, if his hair is too hot it would melt the scissor. But I also like to think that they aren't really made of hair. It's they fluctuate between solid and plasma.

@shaya21 ha chiesto: Hiiiiiii I wanted to ask, you drew redson in bloom outfit from Winx. Do you think you can do macaque in musa outfit ? Oh and thanks for your amazing shadowpeach bio parents au it's amazing

@mysticewya already did the whole wix club team as LMK character, you should check them out.

@onyxxess ha chiesto:hiii!! ive been a fan of your artwork for a whole, esp the shadowpeach bio parent au. theres one thing i havent been clarified withCan we make edits of your art and post it on other socials like tik tok or insta?? (with creds)i would really love editing your artwork!

Yes you can. with credit. I'm both "kyri45" on IG and TT

@misagiiza ha chiesto: Hi Kyri45! My name is Izadora and I'm a huge fan of yours. I'm Brazilian and would love to translate your comic so other people could have the opportunity to know your talent!

Thanks, Iza.

Hello Izadora, there's already user "wukong_lmk" on TikTok that's doing the brazillian translation

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: Will we see a dance party in the celestial realm lol 😆🩷🩷😊

yup

hellopollon ha chiesto: Wait, so Macaque's scroll is close to theirs too or...?

Yup!

@mkthemonkiekiddd ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about doing different lmk AU’s after the current AU youre working on? (Like for example, infection AU, swap Au, etc.)

mm nope. I prefer to keep building on what I've already created

@whatdaflippityfloppity ha chiesto: I absolutely adore your comics and the way you draw Nezha! (He's my favourite character and needs more screen time and ✨angst✨ T-T) Quick question; Is Nezha ever going to rebel against his father? 🥺 Maybe to like, stop his father from using the pagoda or something?

he did it in the past multiple times he will most likely do it again

[laconchadetumadre]

i've seen this joke on twitter and tumblr a few times. And in fanfic kyle is often portrayed as being the "least experienced" or more awkward out of the m4. its fine if people like this hc/trope. Ultimately, fanon doesnt have to stick to canon. It's just that your post reminded me of that, so i hopped in here to share my own thoughts.

about kyle actually fumbling nichole. like i said, the situation was already unfavorable for him. kyle didn't have much a chance to fumble from the very start but if thats how you see it, its fair.

"Kyle never once tried to explain (...) that he wasn’t gay (...) he and cartman weren’t dating"

im pretty sure this is merely because there wouldnt have been enough time for all that. you kinda have to keep in mind that mattrey only have about 20 minutes to flesh out a whole plot, and their main goal is to deliver jokes, not romantic plotlines.

kyle did ask cartman before to clear the rumors right after finding out about them at the playground (and only kept quiet because cartman manipulated him into it) which already lets us know that kyle didnt like the rumors (or cartman), so a scene where kyle tells nichole about it would have been repetitive.

if you want an in-universe explanation tho, i guess you could say that by the time kyle decided to explain things to nichole he had already given up on trying to date her. Therefore there wasnt much of a point in denying the rumors to her in particular. it wouldnt have changed anything anyway.

"he only told her about how cartman was setting her and tolkien up"

and thats really all nichole needed to be told tbh. that alone reveals to her that cartman is racist and not to be trusted (so technically she could infer that everything he told her is a lie) and it is what leads to the conclusion of her arc with tolkien. anything else would have been unnecessary and kind of a waste of screetime

"he literally fucks off to go to cartman like bro this is why you can’t keep a relationship longer than a day"

if you mean kyle coming to cartman at the playground, again, its more about mattrey pacing the episode based on whats more funny and entertaining rather than something to look into. like, yeah, had kyle gone to nichole first it could have fixed everything from the start, but we wouldnt have an episode.

plus, i kinda think it was good he went to cartman. cartman was the one who started the rumor after all, so he should be the one to clear kyle's name. and maybe kyle did try to deny the rumors, but the other kids might as well not have believed him.

i did figure the kyman bit was a joke and, like i said, I don't mind the ship, but i was only taking the canon into account for my post. mattrey definitely know and play about kyman in some episodes (the same way they do with other ships like style, bunny, butman, candy, etc), but it hasn't been seriously adressed in canon so, to me, it doesn't count ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i was gonna address the whole s20 thing but i've had this in my drafts for days now so im gonna make it short. from my pov kyle wasn't jealous, he was dubious and suspicious of cartman (reasonably so) and later when he realized cartman was abussive to heidi did he intervine (which is GOOD, its true he could have handled things better, but heidi did need help and his heart was in the right place) him crying over that picture can mean a lot of things, not necessarily that he has secret feelings for cartman.

Hey chat here’s a compilation of every relationship Kyle was in but fumbled them all because he’s destined to be bitchless till the day he dies

[thehighladywrites]

Interview me

pairing: ceo!rhysand x secretary bimbo!reader

summary: life is hard and you need a job to stay alive. naturally, you apply at a simple job at a company you know nothing about. Well, except for the fact that your boss is a smokeshow.

warnings: swearing

amara’s note: i’m so fucking hyped for this series guysss i have so many ideas hihihihihihihi

explore azriel’s bimboverse !

explore cassian’s bimboverse !

“Shit, shit, shit—I’m soooo not gonna make it!”

Your heels clacked dramatically against the glossy, stupidly expensive floors of an even more expensive skyscraper. Ugh, why did life have to be so unfair? You were made for luxury, not working, but apparently, rent and shopping sprees didn’t pay for themselves. So, you had reluctantly applied for a simple, cute little job—being the personal secretary for some CEO.

You sprinted toward the elevator, practically flinging yourself inside just as the doors were about to close.

“No—wait! Please hold it!”

A man’s hand shot out, stopping the doors. You stumbled in, panting, before beaming up at him.

“You’re very nice! Thank you, mister!”

You didn’t notice the way his eyes slowly dragged down your body, lingering on your barely-buttoned white blouse and tight little skirt that hugged every curve.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with something you were too busy fixing your hair to pick up on. “You work here?”

“Oh, um, not yet! I think I’m actually gonna get fired before I even get hired because I accidentally overslept. My alarm is sooooo weird.” You giggled, fixing a strand of hair.

He chuckled, pressing a button. “What floor?”

“The top one! I’m here to be the CEO’s secretary.”

His smirk widened, his eyes practically devouring you. “Oh yeah? Lucky guy. He’d be a damn fool not to snatch you up.”

You blinked, confused. “Huh? I mean I haven’t got much experience, not sure he’s be that lucky.”

His creepy grin didn’t falter. “Yeah. Sure that’s what I meant.”

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out onto his floor, but not before leaning in just a little too close.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and sticky.

The second the doors shut, you frowned to yourself as you went up the floors until a ding took you out of your trance.

A slim, tall, stupidly beautiful redhead stood before you, clutching a neat stack of papers. She looked so put together—her sleek bun, her expensive-looking glasses, her perfectly ironed blouse. Ugh. She totally looked like someone who knew how to do her job.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from the sheer luxury of this office. The marble floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rich people smell. Was this really where you were going to work? Oh my god.

The redhead cleared her throat, clearly unimpressed with your gawking. “Ms. L/N? Mr. Rhysand is ready for you.”

“Oh! Right! Yeah, of course!” You smoothed down your skirt and stepped forward—business wear was so not your thing. It totally oppressed your usual style and it made you look too corporate-y.

The redhead sighed. “This way.”

You nodded, flashing her a big, dazzling smile as you followed her down the hallway.

“Mr. Rhysand is a very busy man who doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

She gave you a slow, judgmental once-over before scoffing. “And maybe try dressing like a professional instead of a hooker.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Oh… is this too much?” You glanced down at your outfit, genuinely puzzled. “I thought it was classy. It’s Massimo Dutti.”

The redhead’s expression didn’t change. “Just don’t waste his time,” she muttered before turning on her heel and walking away.

Shrugging, you smoothed down your skirt and took a deep breath before pushing open the office doors. Whatever. You looked cute, and that was what mattered.

You stepped into the office, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Your breath hitched as you took in the sheer luxury of the space—floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The furniture was sleek, dark, and expensive, the kind you only saw in glossy magazines.

Rhysand stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, suit tailored to perfection. The late afternoon light poured in behind him, casting his tall, broad-shouldered frame in a golden glow. His dark hair was effortlessly tousled, and when he finally turned to look at you, piercing eyes locking onto yours, your stomach did a little flip.

Oh. Oh fuck.

You were pretty sure you forgot how to breathe for a second. He was stupidly handsome. Very young and very attractive. Sure, he looked older than you but still. You had expected a greying man to be the big boss.

“You’re late.”

His voice was smooth and rich—like honey and sin wrapped in silk.

Your lips parted slightly. Right. The interview. Not staring at your ridiculously gorgeous potential boss.

“You’re… young.”

Rhysand’s brow arched. “Excuse me?” His tone was warm, maybe even amused, but his expression remained unreadable.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean—I just—I meant to say there was something wrong with my alarm. I swear I’m not usually late!”

Heat crawled up your neck. His voice alone had you all flustered, and the way he was looking at you? Yeah, this was bad for your focus.

Rhysand hummed, watching you for a moment longer before nodding toward the chair in front of his desk. “Right. Let’s begin.”

He walked over, effortlessly graceful, and leaned against the edge of his desk—half lounging, half scrutinizing as you sat down, smoothing your skirt.

”So,” Rhysand leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his thighs as he studied you. “Tell me why you think you’re the right fit for this position.”

You straightened, flashing him your brightest, most confident smile. ”I’m very organized! And great at, um… scheduling things and answering phones! I’ll do whatever you want and need.”

Rhysand’s lips curled slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at the edges. His violet eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched you, head tilting just a fraction.

“Whatever I want and need?” His voice was smooth, dangerously amused.

You blinked, nodding obliviously. “Yep! I’m super dedicated. I’ll make your coffee, organize your files, take notes, remind you of meetings—oh! And I’m a great assistant. I’ll be there when ya need me.”

Rhysand let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good to know.” His gaze swept over you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm before he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest again.

“So, tell me, what do you know about this company?”

Shit. You knew absolutely nothing. His eyes narrowed, clearly seeing right through you. Damn it. You only had one option left. You flashed him a saccharine smile. You’d charm your way out, even if it was tacky.

“I’m sure you’re doing super important work, Mr. CEO. I’m just here to support you in all your very important tasks,” you said, stalling and distracting him with your charm.

Of course, Rhysand saw right through you. He could see right through your game, but he let you believe you were in control. You were quick, clever, and undeniably sweet—something about it intrigued him.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clasping his hands together on the desk, and trying to hide the amused smirk that was growing on his face. “You certainly sound like someone who could handle the demands of my busy days.”

Not really. There were at least a hundred more qualified candidates he had interviewed, all more experienced and better suited for the job. But Rhysand wasn’t interested in any of them. He did what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was you.

His smile softened slightly as he leaned forward again, arms crossed. “You’re hired,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You start tomorrow.”

You blinked in surprise, but then your smile brightened as you stood to shake his hand. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!”

Rhysand’s grip was firm, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist. A small, knowing smile curved his lips. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect mistakes, nor do I tolerate them.”

There was no malice in his words, just quiet confidence—like he already knew you’d be just fine.

You swallowed, nodding quickly as he slid a sleek manila envelope across the desk, along with a heavy, expensive-looking pen. You hesitated for only a moment before pulling out the papers, scanning through them quickly.

Your breath hitched.

Your eyes widened as you reread the number, making sure you hadn’t misread. That much money—for what? Just following him around, keeping his schedule in check, answering a few calls, and being… supportive?

Woah.

Trying to mask your shock, you steadied your hand and signed where needed before sliding the papers back toward him. You stood, reaching out to shake his hand again, this time with newfound excitement.

Rhysand clasped your hand in his, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary. His smirk deepened slightly. God, he’s enjoy this.

“Welcome to the job.”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Courthouse Whirlwind

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> You and Tyler have tried three times to get married. Is it fourth time's a charm?

Disclaimer: absolute fluff, established relationship, kissing, mentions of tornado/whirlwind damage, found family, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

Three times. Three wedding dates, three wedding mornings, three times putting on your dress in order to walk down the church aisle. After the second time your wedding got cancelled, you and Tyler just agreed to do it at the Courthouse. After all, it didn’t matter where you got married. Just that you did. Preferably without it being cancelled due to a tornado or hurricane ripping through the town. 

However, the night before your fourth wedding date, you got a knock on your door. 

“Kate! I’m in bed! I told you, I’m not going anywhere!”

The voice that replied was far from being Kate’s, let alone belonging to a woman. 

“It’s not Kate,” he whispered. 

“Tyler?”

Pulling the covers from your legs, you were careful to avoid the creaks in the floor as you rushed towards the door. Looking at him before taking a view of the corridor, you pulled him inside. “Shush. If Kate finds out you’re here, she’ll kill both of us. It’s bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding.”

“I think we’ve had our share of bad luck when it comes to us finally makin’ it down the aisle, don’t you think?”

You sighed, agreeing with him. He wasn’t wrong. First the tornado, then the hurricane, and then the storm warning that sent the minister running home in order to save his dogs before the storm gave them a panic-induced heart attack. 

“Why are you here?”

“I want you to come with me.”

“Where?”

Tyler just stood back and smiled. “You’ll see.”

“Tyler-”

“Hey, it’s okay. Kate won’t know. I’m having Cathy cover for us. Come on. Please?”

It didn’t take very long for you to fold. “Let me just grab my jacket.” 

You both avoided the fact that the jacket, in fact, belonged to Tyler. However, as you got to the door, you turned back and faced him. Even encased in the darkness, he was still as handsome as ever. 

“Kate.”

“I told you. Cathay’s covering-”

“No, no. It’s not that. She knows my footsteps. No matter who covers for us, we’ll get caught.”

Tyler nodded. You had a point. Kate had some kind of superpower about knowing who was walking past her room. She knew the movement of everyone’s steps. 

Looking around, his hand resting on your hip as he did so, an idea came to him. “Follow me.”

You watched as he pulled the sash window open and stepped outside. Taking a moment to survey the porch roof he was on, as well as the potential ability to get down, he turned back to you and held out his hand. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

But he just smiled at you. “Unless you’ve got a better idea, Sweetheart. This is our only option.”

You looked back to the door for a moment. Once again, he had a point. So with a slightly defeated sigh, you looked back at him and took his hand. 

“Watch your head.”

Tyler helped you out before he lowered the window a little. Then, holding onto you, he helped you gain your balance before he gave you quiet instructions on where to step in order to get down. Finally, he lowered himself onto the porch rail before landing softly on the wooden floor of it. 

“Okay, just lower yourself down.”

“Tyler, I’m gonna fall.”

“No, you’re not.” Tyler assured you. “I won’t let you.”

“Promise?”

“Will all my heart, Sweetheart.”

That made you a little more comfortable. So, first dangling your legs over the edge, you felt Tyler’s hand gently grip your ankle. 

“I’m right here, honey.”

“Okay.”

It took a minute or two but finally, you swung yourself down. Your legs were already caught in his arms so it wasn’t too difficult for your arms to finally reach his shoulders. You were finally being held bridal style in his arms. 

“Okay, you can put me down now.”

“Wait.”

You looked back at him. “What?”

It was in that small moment, shared smile and a knowing look in your eyes, Tyler leaned forward and kissed you, feeling your hand come to his cheek. Eventually, he set you down on your feet. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Want to tell me where we’re going?”

Tyler’s smile became brighter as he took your hand in his. “You’ll see. Come on.”

Walking quietly across the gravel, Tyler opened up the passenger seat door and helped you inside before he shut it and rounded the truck to the driver’s side. Tyler had never driven so slowly in his truck, with the headlamps off, in his life. But he couldn’t risk Kate waking up and hearing the both of you escaping the farm together when you should have been asleep, in bed, getting rested for the day ahead. 

As he finally reached the gates, he flipped his lights on and started heading towards town. It was only a fifteen minute drive, but eventually you and Tyler came to a field. 

From the first time you’d both been on the field, the grass had grown back, as well as some wildflowers. It was also the first place you’d kissed him. With an EF-3 that decided it didn’t want to play around, Tyler forced himself back into his truck, but not before he got clipped with one of the metal bars that had come loose from the back. 

You’d been in the van with Javi at the time, watching it happen from far away. It was only after everything had died out completely that you took off running from where Javi had parked the van for the second time. You’d gotten to him just as he stepped out of his truck. You’d run into him almost like a sack of potatoes. Your arms wrapped around him and he hugged you back. It was in the following moments of silence where you took in his injuries and dealt with the fact you could have almost lost him, that you kissed him. 

“What are we doing here?”

Turning around and walking backwards whilst he pulled you closer, holding both of your hands in his, Tyler’s smile remained softly fixed on his face. “I thought that we could finally exchange our vows.”

You smiled with a curious glint in your eyes. And Tyler answered your unspoken question. 

“Well, I figured, we’ve tried to do this three times and each time something’s got in the way. So, I wanted us to have at least a couple of minutes having an actual ceremony. Now, I know the others ain’t here and we don’t have anyone to officiate but we don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow with our track record.”

You gave a small laugh. He had a point. 

“But I don’t want to let another wedding of ours go by without us having exchanged the vows.”

“Tyler…” Your heart was practically melting. 

“Is it cheesy?”

You shook your head and leaned up, kissing him. “I love it.”

So, standing in the middle of the wildflower field, you both took time exchanging the vows you’d both written and rewritten over and over until you finally got them right, minutes before the first attempt at a wedding. And with no-one apart from the wind, stars and the moon as witnesses, you and Tyler shared your first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the time you’d both decided to head back, Tyler kissed you goodnight and you walked inside the house. Taking your shoes off, you slowly headed up the stairs and towards your room. Only, as you did, Kate opened up her door. 

You spun around quickly, hiding your shoes behind your back. 

“Where are you going?”

“I just went to get a glass of water.”

Kate looked you up and down. “In your jacket?”

You looked down. “What? I’m cold and I miss Tyler.”

Kate studied you for a few minutes longer, but she bought it. “Okay, but, back to bed.”

“Already there.”

Kate hummed and watched as you turned slowly and hurried off towards your room, your grass stained shoes hidden by your body. 

The next morning, Kate and Lily came tumbling into your room. 

“There’s no storms. No cells. No nothing. Just a sunny day predicted.”

“All day?” You asked. 

Lily nodded. “All day. Now let's get you back into this dress before you miss your appointment.”

After a shower, an hour of make-up and two hours of hair, everyone was ready to go. The boys had set off first in order to get everything prepped, save for Dexter who was assigned to drive you to the Courthouse. 

Finally arriving, you waited out in the hallway whilst Tyler was forced into a stuffy room, linked with the ceremony room. 

And, like every other time, the countdown began before finally you stood across from Tyler, surrounded by your family. But just as the registrar began to speak, Dexter’s phone pinged. 

“Sorry, I’ll just-” He paused, looking at the notification. 

Then Boone’s phone pinged, followed by the others until the only phones left to give an alert were you and Tyler. 

“Shit.”

“What do we do?”

Tyler peaked out of the window. People were outside on the street, looking around for the incoming tornado. And with a shift of the weather, the sirens outside began to blare and the winds started to pick up, pushing people up and down the street. 

In the corridors, people were either growing restless or curious. Then people started charging inside the building with the help of the security, in order to get to safety.  

You and Tyler moved together, heading out into the hall just as people’s voices went from murumers to panicked tones. 

“Tyler,”

“I know, I know.”

“Maybe y'all are just cursed?” Boone called out before helping a lost kid find their mom. 

Once people were away from the windows and either sat on the floor or a bench, Tyler turned to try and find the registar, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“Maybe we’re just not meant to be legally married.”

With your hand held tight in Tyler’s, he heard your words and couldn’t have disagreed more. So, looking around the crowd, he finally gave up and called out. 

“Is there a judge here?!”

People looked up before looking around, waiting for someone to answer. Finally, a woman appeared from behind Dexter. 

“What seems to be the issue, sir?”

“We need to be married.”

The judge looked around. “Right now?”

You and Tyler gave shy smiles. “Ma’am, I know it doesn’t seem like the best situation but-”

“This is our fourth attempt at getting married. Each one has been disrupted by either a storm or a tornado. We just wanna be married.”

The judge looked around her, the Wranglers all nodding their heads in agreement. “Well, you poor things. Do you have your rings?”

Kate and Boone nodded. “Right here.”

“Great. Oh, you should know, I’ve never done this before. Always wanted to, but never actually done it before.”

“But if you marry us, it’s legal, right?”

She nodded with a smile. “Hold hands.”

So, in the middle of a growing whirlwind outside that was most likely to turn into something more dangerous, the judge finally had you and Tyler exchange wedding rings. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss your bride!”

It might have only taken four attempts, but finally, you and Tyler were legally married. 

[acphengene]

Lilac longing

₊ ⁺ pairing: Sunoo x reader

₊ ⁺ genre: soulmate au and over all cuteness overload

₊ ⁺ wordcount: 3.5k

₊ ⁺ note: i was so close to make this a angst full mess - also be prepared for a lot of brotherly love and support 🤍

₊ ⁺ Jake ₊ ⁺ Jungwon ₊ ⁺ Jay ₊ ⁺ Sunoo ₊ ⁺ Heeseung ₊ ⁺ Niki ₊ ⁺ Sunghoon ₊ ⁺

Sunoo felt the world more fiercely than most, that had been the case his entire life. Even when he was a child.

He loved to paint, loved color and he loved to express himself through his own style and how he chose to decorate his room, through dance and through song.

When his thirteenth birthday came he was nothing short of excited. He woke up as early as possible and when he opened his eyes, everything was a light purple hue.

It almost seemed like he was looking through colored glasses, he had smiled and quickly woken up his sister that had tried to put on a brave face as he rambled about the beauty of the purple colors.

She had helped him make marks in his clothes so he always knew what color they were. He had been all smiles all day, but when the sun had come down, so had his smile.

Sunoo wasn’t stupid, he knew that emotion-marks were some of the hardest to have, not as bad as touch-marks but finding you from your feelings alone would be difficult.

He then saw his world go from a happy yellow to a worried grey, and he knew that you could see him and his emotions as well. That his anxiety worried you and it warmed his heart.

It had to have some sort of effect, cause the grey quickly transformed into a light blue: content

Sunoo became more positive and it was all thanks to you. He had always had a happy outlook on life, but because you were able to sense him, he had turned himself into a glass half full kind of guy.

He did his best to be upbeat and just over all confident, and even though he was faking it in the beginning, it ended up actually rubbing off on him.

The guys on I-land were somewhat jealous of his carefree spirit, and when they had debuted, he had told them why he was the way that he was. They had all been so supportive and kind, and to them it made sense, cause they would’ve done the exact same had they been in his position.

You too were very similar to your soulmate, and had decided that you too wanted to be the happiest version of yourself. Both now but also later in life for when the two of you would be united.

All your life you had loved art, and now that you saw the world in hues you wanted to express that. Show it off with pride to the world

The nature of your paintings was typically inspired by the sky and its different colors. It was one of the things you could still enjoy in all its original glory. A sunset or sundown had a ray of colors that could change in an instant. Just like you and your soulmate's emotions did throughout a day.

It inspired you, and inspiration and the outcomes of it had to be shared. You had been active on TikTok since before the pandemic, you adored the platform and had managed to build yourself a following throughout the years.

In the beginning you had used it for your art and your art alone, but when someone had asked why all your paintings were monochrome. You had answered with a video explaining your mark, and the spark in your eyes when you spoke of him had made you go viral

“Dude have you seen this?” Jake said as he threw his phone to Sunoo.

They were currently in hair and makeup for a photoshoot. He caught the phone and on the screen and there you were.

He couldn’t help but smile, you looked radiant, like the impersonation of a sunray.

“I do see color, it’s just all in one hue, like looking at the world through rose colored glasses” he saw how a gigantic smile broke out on your lips and you lighted up.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings and for the first time in his life he felt longing, longing for his soulmate. He couldn’t help but hope that his other half would be as bright and beautiful like you were.

“They’re excited, everything just went from a slight nervous green to a yellow so bright it’s almost blinding. So I’m guessing we’re gonna have to change canvases now” you said as you switched them out.

“She’s cute” Sunghoon said as he looked over his shoulder, and he hummed in agreement.

Sunoo pulled out his own phone and quickly found your public social medias and followed them all with his private accounts.

He ended up watching some of your videos throughout the day. There was something incredibly comforting about seeing someone with the same mark as him, channel that into something so beautiful as your art.

Personally he did it in song or in dance, but he could nothing but admire anyone who could turn something most would see as a hindering into something so beautiful.

In the next few weeks he had to admit he had become a little obsessed. He typically got the girls to help him translate your lives whenever you logged on. They were all fans as well, some for your art others just for your over all personality so they at least didn’t seem to mind it.

“It’s purple again. I don’t know you guys, either he has the biggest sweet tooth ever, and constantly craves and longs for chocolate… or else I would say he’s right here with us” you had laughed at your own statement and had quickly disregarded it.

But there was something there - because he had felt that longing after his own person right as you had smiled so brightly.

In another live he watched, someone commented on something in the background, and he had to admit he had never really noticed anything but you. It made him feel a bit of shame, mostly because he never thought you’d actually be his, but also because the pull he felt towards you might make his soulmate jealous down the line.

“Oh! Those are my albums” you said before getting up from your chair where you usually painted.

And in your hands you had copies of their albums. So he wasn’t the only one who was a fan of the other.

The chat had quickly exploded with other engenes, wanting to know your thought on the sudden pop up of the guys and their other halves.

“I’m honestly so so happy for them, we all deserve to find our person, and as long as they bring them joy… well it’s the most important thing”

His vision turned a mix of dark blue and green then and there. Sadness and envy. But that was just a coincidence, right?

You sighed and shaked your head; “anyways, I’ve been a pretty big fan of Enhypen - practically since I-land”

His hands hovered over the keyboard on his phone as he tried to get the courage to ask that one little question. But before he knew it, he saw the familiar @ of none other than Jungwon soulmate, ask the question on his mind.

“Who’s your bias?” She sent a wink his way and he returned it with a shy smile. Sunoo had come to love the women almost as much as he loved his brothers.

“Oh my bias is Suno! There’s a brightness about him that remind me so much of myself” He felt the heat rush to his cheeks as the girls all made little ‘uuuuuuuhs’ around the room.

“Stop it” he said quietly. He looked up from his phone and saw the make up artist roll her eyes. “I’m guessing we’ll just have to do a lot of blush today - you’re lucky it’s a trend”

He smiled apologetically, and heard you laugh in the background.

“I honestly have no idea” he heard you say and he tried finding out what question was asked. Right as you continued: “I think he could have something similar to me, or maybe a pain mark. I don’t think he has a tattoo or anything physical on his body, like I know he doesn’t show it off that much, but he also never hides anything or seek comfort in it the same way Jake did” You shrugged.

You were good at analyzing. Hell if you asked him you were good at everything and that made it so hard not to admire you.

“Do you ever think it might actually be her?” Niki asked as the two played a game in his room.

Sunoo sighed. “I don’t know, like sometimes I hope so, but other times I feel so guilty for doing that”

Niki smiled. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about it, whenever I see someone I find attractive I always look down on my pinky, because what if the string actually connected us”

The youngest shrugged. “It’s okay to be hopeful, and just imagine if it’s actually is her, then you’ve known her for a while, not as long as Jay and G but still, it’s more than most of us”

He supposed that was right. It would also be a funny story to tell, how the purples you always had to paint when you were live was because he was watching along.

“I still think it’s unfair I won’t just know, you know? Like with how G just knew when she saw Jay on I-land?” Sunoo said with a small pout.

“Why is that anyways? Never got around to ask you about that” Niki said as he leaned to the left to avoid one of the many obstacles of the game.

“She thinks it’s because she’d kind of already ‘met’ Jay, so he didn’t need to physically be there, she just needed to be reminded of his name and how he looked for the floodgates to open”

Niki laughed. “Yeah, that’s the worst thing about these marks, they don’t follow the same rules. If they did that would be so much easier”

“Do you ever think Sunghoon might just have a touch-mark?” Sunoo asked. He was nosy, he knew that, Sunghoon himself didn’t even intertain the idea.

“I honestly don’t know - and I don’t wanna speculate too much about it. He seems happy either way” Niki said, but Sunoo saw the lack of genuine happiness on his face.

He pushed him slightly with his shoulder. “When did you become so wise?” he chuckled.

“You can thank Jay for that,” Niki said.

Sunoo sat on his bed with his phone in hand as he just stared at it. His thumb was hovering over the send button on the screen. He had debated whether or not this was actually a good idea.

But he just couldn’t help himself. So he pressed it.

A few hours later you were live once again, and you were sitting there staring at the screen. He hoped this would confirm his theory, because if he weren’t right then this was hell of a coincidence.

Two hours after he had sent off his message his vision became such a bright yellow it almost looked white - it was blinding.

He had right then and there decided that that meant you were his. There was no way in hell you weren’t.

The little live notification finally ticked in on his phone, and he had never pressed a link as quickly.

“The most insane thing just happened” You said before you buried your face in your hands. He smiled, well knowing that he was the cause of that.

Your hand hovered over your mouth as he saw the tears well up in your eyes, and he once again fell such longing.

Just tell them - he wrote as a comment from his private account.

He saw that little twitch of a smile on your lips and then you took a large breath.

“Kim Sunoo, my fucking bias, reached out a few hours ago to request a custom painting” you said and you stood up and jumped onto your bed as you screamed into the pillows.

He laughed, glad that he was able to actually see your reaction, even though he was convinced your reaction when you found out had been completely different.

“He wants a sky with every color that I’ve ever seen from my soulmate, every emotion he have ever had - it’s gonna be such an insanely huge piece, and I hope you’ll all follow along when I make it”

You bit your lip: “he’s proud of me” you whispered and the chat went wild.

But you were right, pride was the overwhelming feeling he currently had in his chest.

He saw how you shook your head and once again rested your hands on your lips as you stared into the camera with wondering eyes, as if the puzzle piece finally were starting to reveal the bigger picture.

Don’t spoil it yet - let’s test it out first. Was all he wrote, and he heard the small scream you made, before you turned off the live.

After the live he went straight for Jake’s room, he needed someone to talk to about this feeling inside his chest.

“Come in” he heard from behind the door as he knocked.

“Hey can I pick you brain for a second?” He asked as he sat down on the bed.

“Sure” Jake said before he logged of his game and gave the younger his undevided attention.

“I think I found my soulmate”

Jake froze in whatever movement he was just about to make and stared at him with big eyes.

“What?! How?!” He almost yelled.

“Please be quiet, I’m not completely positive yet”

“You better start talking before I call all of them in here” Jake said with a sinister smirk, Sunoo laughed.

“Do you remember Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah, she’s the painter right?” Jake asked and Sunoo nodded as he started fidgeting with his ring.

“I’ve noticed whenever she’s live and I’m watching her paint, that the colors she sees are mirrors of my own emotions. When i’m stressed she’s painting orange, when I’m happy she’s painting yellow, and when I …” he sighed. “When I long for my soulmate she’s painting purple”

Sunoo ran his hand through his hair a few times. Trying his best to steady that beating heart of his. He had never shared any of this before. It felt like peeling back a layer and exposing a part of himself he had never shown to anyone.

“So I asked her for a custom piece” Sunoo said.

Jake looked like he was about to scold him, but he raised his hand to finish his confession.

“And I felt this pull” he said and made a tugging motion with his hand, right where his heart were.

The previously worried expression of Jake changed, and a genuine happy smile broke out on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m with you dude. She’s def yours” Jake bit his lip, and it made Sunoo wanna roll his eyes but he reeled it in.

“Are you sure? I mean with Jay and Won…” he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Jake interrupted him.

“It’s different for them, their mark makes it somewhat possible for them to communicate. Jay more than Won, but still the whole chocolate debacle pretty much proved it’s possible” Jake leaned back in the chair.

“For us it’s different” he gestured between them. “Our mark is something we can’t control, so our pull to them is different, and the tug on the heartstrings - yeah that’s one of them… I was more in a trance as soon as I heard her voice, but the tug was definitely there. I even think Won felt something similar if I’m not wrong”

Sunoo smiled a smile wider than Jake had ever seen.

“Thank you Jake” he said and the Aussie saw how the tear welled up in Sunoo’s eyes. He pulled him to his feet and into a hug.

“No problem”

He was nervous. And kept shifting his weight from one leg to another.

You had reached out after the painting was finally done, And he had somehow convinced you to come to Seoul to deliver it personally.

Okay, it hadn’t taken that much convincing, but still it was a long trip to take with a canvas as big as the one you had been using.

So now he stood there in a practice room in the Hybe building, cameras all around to possibly document his meeting with what he was 98% sure was his soulmate.

The cameras had been your idea, you wanted to make the whole experience into a little “come with me to give my bias a painting”-vlog.

He took a deep breath, and then he heard it, the somewhat muffled. “Oh shit, please please be careful. I’ll lose it if it breaks so close to the finish line”

His heart sped up by the sound of the voice.

And then you entered and his heart stopped. You were painted in the green and turquoise colors of anxiety and nervousness. But god you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Even more beautiful as you stood here before him.

You smiled a large smile, but your eyes never left the floor, as if you refused to meet his own. The anxiety had quickly been replaced with longing, so why wouldn’t you just look at him?

He bowed as he said his hello, and thanks for meeting him. It was awkward and clumsy, but still it was somehow fitting.

“Do you wanna see it?” You had asked after returning the pleasantries.

He stepped closer to you, as the two of you had turned your bodies towards the canvas. “Yeah, but can you look at me first?” He said with a small smile, desperate.

All he heard was a whimper and his whole body reacted before he could form a single thought. His hand was caressing your cheek and his other arm was around you waist. Sunoo knew he should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t care less.

“Are you okay?” He said silently, desperately.

You nodded, and as you stilled his thumb slowly caressed your cheek. Still, you didn’t lift your eyes to mee his.

“Please look at me” he said, and the yearning in his voice were clear for everyone to hear. But he didn’t care that he was in a room full of people, all he cared about was you.

“I can’t” You finally mustered as a tear slipped from you eye, he brushed it away quickly.

“You can” He said with what he hoped was a reassuring and not mocking chuckle.

A sigh escaped you and he could feel you shake beneath him. “I’m scared…” You finally got the courage to muster.

Instead of pressuring you, he let you be, let you express yourself in your own tempo.

“I’m scared that I’m wrong”

He smiled. “That we’re wrong. And if we are we’ll take it from there” he pulled you a little closer. “But I can tell you that if we’re right, the all you’re feeling right now is slight embarrassment, longing and love”

Your eyes shot open and you were met with the widest smile from him. His hand snaked from your cheek to the back of your neck and he squeezed it teasingly.

“There you are” He said.

And the the world exploded into color.

The two of you gasped as the pink-ish hues were quickly replaced by the actual colors of the world. He laughed as he rested his forehead on yours.

“I knew it” he said, and right after you flung your arms around his neck as you pulled him close to you.

He lifted you from the ground and spun you around, earning him a laugh.

“You’re mine?” You asked with surprise in your voice.

“It seems so” he pulled you into yet another hug and as you seperated it was your turn to reach out for him.

You caressed his cheek, and saw how his eyes almost disappeared when he smiled. “I can’t believe it” the words were so small he almost didn’t pick up on it.

He turned you towards the canvas as a his arm draped around your hips. “Now let’s see what you made me” he kissed the top of your head and your entire body shuddered at the intimate gesture.

You nodded to the two men who had been holding it, and the loosened the bow that held the protective cloth over it.

And as it slipped away Sunoo felt his mouth open slightly in chock. It was a beautiful explosion of colors, colors he could now see at the same time.

He once again pulled you closer to him. “It’s beautiful” and you heard how his voice almost betrayed him and gave after for the sobs that threatened to spill out.

“Just like you” you said.

In this moment neither of you had felt more loved or more seen, and that lilac longing were now substituted for pink and red love.

Taglist: @why4anne @juicygirl4life @azzy02 @bluxjun @why-did-i-just-do-this @elairah @ramyeonzwithspam @floating-moon-dust @skyearby @acourtofmoonlightandstars @garrdenwonie @whateveridontcaresheesh @stormy1408

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

If You Need Me, Dear, I’m the Same as I Was | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Chubby Reader

✦ word count — 8.5k

✦ request — may I request Ex Older Damian Wayne x Chubby Reader! Where the reader goes to a charity ball that her friend wanted her to go with since her friend and their family are rich and do this every year. And right when the host of the ball were thanking everyone for coming and stuff they mentioned the top person who donated the most and that being Damian. With Damian going up the stage to make a small speech, his gaze caught the reader. Making him stammer before he continued. I guess somewhere along the lines of him finishing a girl comes up and hugs him or something which send the reader running to the change room (cuz they super fancy lol) and unaware to the reader, Damian came after her. Locking the door behind him and resolving old issue they might have and maybe couldn’t have in the past. Maybe it being Robins leaving to a long mission and him not telling her about that yet. And then making up. It could be them coming out of the dressing room and being under the mistletoe or if you are allowing spicy scenes then that.

✦ warnings — nsfw, exes to lovers, angst, melancholy, hints of jealousy, hints of possessiveness, smut, hand job, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, protected sex, mentions of food, fluff.

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Hearing his name stung. He was the top donor of the night, on behalf of the Wayne family. Damian thanked the host and stood at the podium, scanning the room as he made a speech. Since when did he make speeches?

Your eyes met for a moment. He hesitated, borderline stumbling through his words, but he recovered quickly. He finished his speech with his gaze upward, on the chandelier.

You couldn’t help but follow him with your eyes as he walked down the podium, and immediately wished you hadn’t. A woman threw her arms around his shoulders. He rested a hand on her upper back. You wanted to vomit.

Making your way through the crowd, you followed the path to the changing room. Away from the noise, you heard your elaborate breath just before your ears started ringing.

You took deep breaths. You couldn’t ruin Nova’s perfect job with your makeup for a man who didn’t know what he wanted. Besides, you vowed not to cry over him anymore; the mourning phase was supposed to be over. Clearly.

You stood in front of the full-body, ornate, gold mirror to the right of the vanity. Your reflection assured you that you hadn’t somehow ruined your brand-new velvet dress. Leaning onto the vanity where small ornate mirrors matched, you confirmed your makeup hadn’t moved an inch.

Bringing a hand up to your head, you rearranged your hair a little bit, fiddling with it to fully calm yourself.

“You look stunning.”

Your head whirled to the left upon hearing Damian’s voice. His eyes were on you, but yours were on the closed door behind him.

“What do you want?” The question came out clear, smoothly. You were proud of yourself.

“You.”

How dare he say such a thing months after not fighting for you? On a night he brought someone else as a date to the charity ball he must have known you would attend because Nova’s family always did.

“Hard to believe.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You are so considerate, aren’t you?”

Damian sighed; gaze unwavering. “This is my attempt at making things right.”

“Five months later.”

“You didn’t want to hear me out before.”

“I don’t think I want to hear you out right now either,” you admitted. You hated the way your voice softened, the fact that he still had some power over the way you felt. “There’s not much you can say that will make it right, Damian. I thought you were smart enough to realize that.”

He stood there for a moment, only gazing at you in silence. You wished he would just turn around and leave, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t his style. Everything that happened, the way the relationship ended, hurt more precisely because you knew him well. He was stubborn, somewhat entitled, and he always got what he wanted one way or another; he wasn’t one for giving up on something at the first hurdle. And yet you hadn’t seen him in five months.

Begging might not have been part of his vocabulary, but you never wanted him to beg. You had wanted him to be honest, to stop hiding things from you. And he couldn’t, he didn’t have it in him to fight for you.

The silence between you stretched, shrinking the room as you stood mere feet away from each other. The chasm between you expanded. You were almost certain he would leave at any moment, perhaps find some sick satisfaction in ruining your night.

Damian’s body twitched forward, as if he were to take a step. He didn’t. Instead, he broke the silence, voice steady, “There’s something I never told you.”

You gazed at him. Fully this time, past the cold demeanor you were trying to feign and past his tense shoulders. “Do I even want to know?”

You needed him to look at you in the eyes and tell you this wouldn’t break your heart all over again.

As if he knew that, and perhaps he did, he added, “It’s not what you are thinking.”

“Okay,” you breathed out. “Talk.”

This time, he stepped forward and walked toward the beige sofa behind the vanity. You watched him through the mirror as he unbuttoned his blazer and sat down. Damian beckoned you to sit with him, patting the empty space beside him.

Despite yourself and all the things you had promised your friends —that you didn’t care anymore, and that you wouldn’t hear him out even if he begged—, you approached. You sat flush against the arm of the camelback sofa, leaving enough space between you. He seemed to take offense yet didn’t dare complain.

“When Alfred told you I was out of the country…” he began, palms flat against his thighs as he looked at you, “he assumed you were aware beforehand. I discussed telling you what I am about to tell you with the family, and they all agreed it would be for the best. My father even suggested it might strengthen our relationship.”

He didn’t let you ask any questions as he continued, “I didn’t have time to tell you. Something came up, I had to leave quickly, and it didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be able to contact you once I had taken care of…” he hesitated for a moment, eyes searching your face for any sign of open-mindedness. “It wasn’t supposed to take me a week, and you weren’t supposed to be upset.”

“So you had it all planned? Including how I would feel?” You shook your head in disbelief. He was supposed to make it right, not remind you why you cried for a week straight. “You haven’t even told me why.”

“You know who Batman is.”

You almost laughed at the change of topic. It took guts to derail a conversation he had insisted on starting. “Sure.”

“And Nightwing…”

“Everybody knows we have vigilantes around,” you impatiently reminded him.

He nodded, lifting a hand from his thigh. For a second, as he flexed his fingers, you thought he might place it on your shoulder. His hand stayed in the air, and in any other instance, you would have grabbed it. Damian knew that too. “But no one knows who they are behind the cowl,” he said solemnly.

Your eyes lingered on his hand. “And you do?”

“Yes,” he admitted quietly.

In a way, it made sense. His ancestors basically founded the city, his family probably knew every secret Gotham had ever harbored. Not only that, but Bruce seemed to hold a reverence for Gotham that you had never truly understood but utterly admired.

“That’s cool,” you said, and you meant it. “I just don’t see how—”

Before you could express that vigilantes had nothing to do with your past relationship, Damian blurted, “I’ve been Robin since I met my father.”

“Out of all the things…” His words took a moment to fully register in your brain. You thought you heard him wrong for a split second. “You could be lying right now.”

“Why would I ever lie about this?” he asked. Indignation and hurt laced his voice as he added, “Why would I lie to you?”

“I don’t know.” You turned your head to fully look at him. “It sounds absurd.”

He nodded. He seemed so innocent, looking at you through his long lashes. “I can prove it. I can go as far as to prove where I was that week.”

His words tugged at something inside you, something you liked to pretend wasn’t there anymore. You couldn’t express that, though, you could only stare at him, hoping you would find anything to say. You didn’t.

“I should have told you sooner.”

Yes, he should have. He should have spared you the grief and the countless tears.

And yet you felt like an idiot. How detestable must you have been in his eyes, breaking up with him because he was too busy saving people. “Yes, you should have. I thought…” you trailed off. It wasn’t common for you to not speak your mind around him, to tip-toe around subjects as if he was just any other person. In a whisper, you admitted, “I thought I had done something wrong.”

Damian finally rested his hand on your shoulder, dragging it along your shoulder blades until his arm was around you. “You didn’t do anything wrong, habibti.”

This was cruel. He was so close and so warm. After what you could only describe as an eternal winter that wasn’t even close to being over, after the torturous entirety of what should have been the perfect autumn.

“Were you really going to tell me?”

“I was. And I am not just saying it to appease you.” He knew you so well. Damian drew in a deep breath. His voice became airy, tone lower, “I thought I would never see you again.”

Oh, how much you had missed his voice. “So did I.”

You were supposed to forget about him, to only see him again on TV solely by mistake on a rainy afternoon while visiting your parents.

“You thought? Or were you hoping?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He grumbled.

Shifting to look at him properly, you found yourself at a loss for words. You understood he didn’t want to hear that; you would hate it if it came from him. You just didn’t know if you should apologize for being honest.

“I suppose I would feel the same if the roles were reversed,” he mumbled.

“I wish you had told me,” you admitted in a whisper. It would have saved you many tearful nights and bitter days. And maybe heartbreak as a whole too.

“I was going to.”

“I believe you.”

He cupped your face in his free hand, making you look into his eyes. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“I have missed you,” he said gently.

“I’ve missed you too.” For a moment, you debated whether to add anything else, but you couldn’t help yourself and elaborated, “It took a lot not to return your calls.”

You hadn’t even dared to block him, pretending you were being the bigger person by simply ignoring his messages and calls, when in reality your heart skipped a beat every single time his name appeared on your screen.

“I wish you had.”

“Would you have told me?”

“Not on the phone.”

You were busy the first few times he called, packing stuff and eventually moving. It had been a good excuse at first, a genuine distraction. Eventually, you had to talk yourself into ignoring his calls, ashamed to admit you wanted him to chase after you, to show that he cared.

In those moments, you had wanted him to feel like you did when he didn’t answer, when you found out he was in another continent because his butler-grandfather figure let it slip when you called in panic.

Now you wondered if Alfred told him how worried you had been, or how quickly you ended the call once his whereabouts were revealed. You cried so much that day. It had already been awful, and you needed Damian. You had wanted nothing more than his soothing voice to tell you everything would be ‘fine’ as he often remarked.

Perhaps you still did.

“I can almost hear you think.”

You huffed half a laugh. He and his need to know everything. “It’s what people do when they are quiet.”

“Is it?” He kinked an eyebrow. “What was I thinking about, then?”

“Knowing you, nothing easy to understand.”

He laughed, shaking his head. You had almost forgotten the melody of that sound. “Wrong.”

“Really?” Your voice carried amusement. It felt like a conversation from simpler times. “Care to share?”

You hated that your eyes zeroed on his lips the moment he started talking, not processing his words; in fact, barely registering he was speaking. You would have embarrassed yourself by only staring if his voice hadn’t once been your favorite sound.

He smiled as he continued speaking. Whatever he was talking about, was as irrelevant to him as it was to you.

His thumb caressed your skin. You hummed, almost like a spoiled cat, and felt yourself lean into his touch before you could realize what you were doing.

“May I kiss you?”

You should have said no, maybe make him work for it a little. But you didn’t want to. His lips were so pink, still so pouty and inviting.

Through a breath intake, you said, “Yes.”

He softly pressed his lips to yours, bringing his arm upward to curl around your neck so he could pull you closer. He kissed you slowly at first, gave you a chance to back out; you could change your mind at any second, it was safe to do so around him. It made you want to kiss him even harder.

Your bottom lip got caught between his pillowy ones, and things clicked like they always had with Damian. You rested your hand on the back of his head, mindful of not ruining his hair.

Damian’s tongue broke through your lips in no time. He removed his arm from your shoulders and snaked it around your middle, bringing his other hand down to your thick waist to guide you into a better position. He hummed on your mouth, kissing you deeper as he held you tight.

You briefly wondered why you had even tried to find somebody else. Not only had they been inadequate at an emotional level, but they couldn’t make you feel like floating with just a kiss like Damian did.

He dragged his lips away from yours, to your jaw first. His hand traveled upward to hold your chin up, and he attached his lips to your neck. You slipped your fingers into his hair, sighing. He smiled against your skin — he had you where he wanted.

In an act of mercy, he didn’t comment on it. He busied himself with covering your neck in kisses. He trailed down, mouth slightly open when it reached the uncovered portion of your cleavage.

You gently pushed him off you. His elaborated breath matched yours. “Not here,” you panted.

“Yeah,” he rasped, “you’re right.”

You stared at each other for a prolonged moment. He kissed you again, briefly, sweetly.

Finding yourself at the vanity once more, you fixed your makeup and re-applied lipstick. Damian stood behind you, hands on your waist, chin on your shoulder.

He ran his palms up and down your velvet gown, reaching your hips before going back up to your waist, and starting over once more.

“What are you doing?”

“Touching you.” His breath tickled your cheek.

“Maybe you should stop.”

“Maybe?” he repeated, incapable of not teasing you.

“Definitely.”

He pressed his body flush to yours, curling an arm around you. The strength of his grip and the weight of his body on your back were oh so familiar.

“Most people must be gone by now,” he said, as if he knew you only needed a little push to be persuaded.

But you couldn’t do that to Nova. “Even worse. What will the few left think when I leave this room with you?”

“That I won tonight. Without competition.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere right now.”

“As long as you don't run away again.”

“Oh, my.” You didn’t think he would notice; much less assume you had run away. “And what will your date think?”

“Emiko isn't my date. Only a friend.” His lips grazed your neck. “She’s Wally’s girlfriend. Remember him?”

You hummed. You remembered sweet and funny Wally. “Well, my date might be looking for me.”

He tensed, taking handfuls of you. “Don't call her that.”

“Why not?”

“You know the implication.” The pout was evident in his voice.

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. Damian didn't find it as amusing as you did.

“Go tell her I'm taking you home.”

You hesitated, wondering if Nova would be angry at you for this. Yet, it was what you wanted, so you decided to face the music either way.

You found your dear friend outside the changing room, sat on a leather loveseat —beige and with gold accents, as everything in the venue was— with Damian's friend. They both stared at you intently.

Damian squeezed your plush hip. “I’ll get your jacket.”

Nova pursed her lips. Emiko lifted both eyebrows. You inhaled, about to explain yourself, when Nova interrupted you, “I knew it would happen sooner or later.”

You felt bad that it had been so obvious to everybody but yourself, that your best friend had to put up with your crying and complaining, with your meaningless vows, just for you to fold so easily.

“As long as you're happy… I’m cool with it,” she assured you.

Emiko hadn't taken her eyes off you, as if analyzing you. Her blueish hair was down, contrary to the intricate updo she had donned when Damian made his speech.

“Everyone knew you would give in,” Nova admitted.

“That doesn't make me feel any better.”

“But it’ll make everybody else feel better,” Emiko said in almost an assuring tone. Her voice was sharp, but not devoid of warmth. “He’ll finally shut up about you and let us live.”

Nova giggled and gave you a look that told you it would be the same for your friend group. Somewhat unfair when you didn’t talk that much about him anymore, only when you were in a bad mood, but you understood her point of view.

Damian already had his coat on as he re-joined you, holding your jacket so you would slip your arms in. You did so, avoiding Nova’s and Emiko’s eyes.

“Ready to leave?” he asked.

You nodded. “But Emiko…”

“She can get home by herself,” he said softly, in more of a show of trust in his friend than in attempts to avoid taking her anywhere.

“I can,” Emiko said firmly, “don’t worry about me.”

“She can leave with me,” Nova suggested. “Night’s still young.”

“Don’t get yourselves into too much trouble,” Damian warned. You didn’t know if he was joking or worried. Maybe both.

Nova glared at him jokingly. “You get her home safely, or I swear to God…”

“Yeah, I’ll kick your a—"

“I get it!” Damian interrupted Emiko, then told her, “And you are supposed to be on my side.”

Emiko rolled her eyes. “Just go.”

Damian rested his hand on your lower back, gently nudging you toward the exit. Cold air hit your face, as if you needed any reminder of just how long winter was running. He fully wrapped his arm around you, physically shielding you from the cold.

Once in his car, he did a double take to make sure you had your seatbelt on and handed you his phone in case you wanted to play some music. Just like he always had done.

Those were the things you missed the most about him, the way he took care of you as if out of instinct, how easily he made you part of his life and imprinted every single aspect of yours. You second-guessed everything when you broke up with him, convinced yourself not a single thing about your relationship had been real.

It now sounded unfair, not only because you knew the truth, but mostly because you had been friends once. Or as close to friends as two people with romantic tension could come to be.

Damian used to take you home when you still lived with your parents, and your only relation to him was a friendship held together by his refusal to get romantically involved with anyone and your hesitance to say anything in case it would make you look uncool.

Your parents loved him. Your mom told you the breakup could only have been your fault, blaming your career choice and the way you dressed. According to your father, you scared Damian off with your eagerness to eat the world, so much so that he claimed you should slow down so it wouldn't happen again with somebody else.

Although you didn't pay their words any mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that they were more a reflection of how they saw their own relationship. They would probably divorce soon or simply grow to hate each other. They didn’t seem to have much in common apart from having raised you and your sister.

Your sister agreed they weren’t good for each other anymore, but the fallout wouldn’t touch her. She moved to Colorado because of her partner, and her love for them was stronger than her hatred of the dry climate.

"I moved," you blurted out, suddenly scared he would take the old way, the short one, the one that led to a house that was never a home.

"I heard." A couple seconds later, he clarified, "I saw the photos on social media. The ones Melissa posted."

You held a decorating get-together when you moved. Friends had come and gone throughout the day, helping with different things. You ended up changing most of those things eventually, but you weren’t alone that day, and that was all that mattered.

Neither of you said it, but both of you knew it should have been Damian hanging artwork in your living room and talking you out of hot pink wallpaper for the bedroom.

You gave him the address, and when he pulled into the parking area designated for visitors, you expected him to wish you a good night. It didn't make sense, you knew his intentions, and Damian wasn't the type to simply drop you off. Still, you braced yourself for a goodbye that didn't come. Not in the elevator, not in the middle of the hallway, not as you reached apartment 37.

His breath was on your neck, your hand in his. The cold light in the hallway didn’t have time to bother you, and the carpet-less porcelain floor was a mere afterthought as Damian stood flush to your side while you unlocked the door.

His strong cologne filled the living room, masking the air freshener you took so long to pick at the grocery store.

Damian looked around, taking note of the lack of photos as decoration and the empty space near the window. It didn't take him long to set his eyes on you. Extending an arm, you offered to take his coat.

The empty closet welcomed the coat in, and if anybody asked you, it looked full now. You hated thinking such things, hated that he was what your life had been missing. But things clicked, living by yourself wouldn't be so lonely if he stayed the night from time to time, going out with friends would be more fun if you could call him drunk to tell him you love him without worrying that you'd sound pathetic, and the boring job you accepted to shut your parents up would be oh so bearable if you knew you would get to see him at the end of the day even if it was just through a video call.

You grabbed Damian by the face and kissed him, jacket halfway down your arms. His hands immediately settled on your waist; he used his grip as leverage to lean in, slotting his nose against yours.

Contrary to his eagerness from earlier, he kissed you tenderly. Everything slowed down — well, everything but your heartbeat.

You didn't think you would ever get to kiss him again. You had mourned this, his warmth, the sighs he let out every time you played with the short hairs on his nape… being this intimate with him.

“I missed you,” he said against your lips. You didn't get to tell him, again, that you had missed him too; he kissed you harder, squeezing your pliant body as a reminder that he could, that you were there.

Your arms were tight around his neck. It was such a familiar kind of kiss —one of those you would share in your childhood bedroom while your parents were out, or in the tiny kitchen of the apartment you used to share with the roommate you had a fallout with in college—, not too heated, but not chaste enough to be considered innocent.

“Wanna move to the couch?” you asked.

He hummed, slowly moving away from you. Damian sat on the blue couch as if he had done so many times before, watching you take your jacket off and hang it with his coat. You walked toward him, debating whether you should take your heels off already or not.

His hands reached over for you, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you between his legs. You shook your head, trying not to laugh. Lifting his eyebrows, he asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” You ran your fingers along the silky lapels of his suit jacket. “You’re as forward as ever.”

“And you look incredible tonight.”

“It’s a very nice dress.”

“I do have an inclination for the model.”

You let out a tiny laugh, face warm — you were more flattered than abashed, and either way, Damian got the satisfaction of so quickly finding out not much had changed.

Kissing him again, before he could gloat about his —and only his— ability to make you feel special, you felt him slowly trace your sides up and down. His lips moved with yours in sync. You missed kissing him like this, like the world would end if you stopped for whatever reason.

There were many things you would have liked to convey in the kiss. None of them would come close to simply kissing him, though — there would, hopefully, be time to talk things out. You slipped your hands between his suit jacket and his shirt, smoothing the shirt with your palms as Damian slipped his tongue past your lips.

You removed his suit jacket; sure he wouldn't care if it got a crease or two. He was warm, even though you just now realized you hadn’t adjusted the thermostat. Not that you needed to make the room warmer, his hands all over you were enough.

Whichever spell he cast to make the apartment his own by simply stepping inside only intensified as you moved to your bedroom. Lust overpowered his curiosity, and instead of looking around, perhaps making a comment about the floral bedding, he coaxed you onto the bed.

You pulled him on top of you, kissing him once more. Damian didn’t deny you, but his hands didn’t stay put. He couldn’t help but seek some kind of control, touch heavier and rougher as he explored your body. His warm mouth almost swallowed yours, reminding you exactly why you hadn’t been able to replace him.

Softly, you pushed him off, chest heaving up and down as you breathlessly explained, “It’s getting toasty in here.”

Damian dazedly nodded.

You sat up, prompting him to crawl backward and stand up. He insisted on being the one to take your dress off, careful not to ruin it in his eagerness.

With the velvet garment aside, he made a motion to push you back onto the bed, but you reached over to grab the collar of his shirt before he could.

He kept his hands busy by tracing your figure, slowly, eyes up to watch your face as you unbuttoned his shirt.

A scar on his shoulder caught your eye, darker than his skin. It ran from the top of his shoulder to his pec, fading out mere millimeters above his nipple.

His touch faltered as you stared. You opened your mouth, stuttering as you found yourself torn between assuring him there was nothing wrong with it and the desire to ask what had happened.

“Later,” he said, withdrawing his hands from your body so he could fully discard the shirt.

You found more scars as your hands and eyes wandered, and now his preference for semi-clothed sex and dimmed lights made sense.

“Will you tell me about these too?” you dared to ask softly.

He didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes.” He even sounded relieved.

His touch resumed, and soon, the kissing did too. You dragged your hands down his torso where you found tiny scars and fading marks; you followed the pattern of some with the tips of your fingers, just by feel as you kissed.

Damian’s hand traveled up to your chest. He traced the decorative lace of your strapless bra and looked up at you. Something muddied his gaze, but he didn’t utter a single word. He pulled your bra down, freeing your breasts from the black cloth, and settled his hands on them.

You played with the waistband of his trousers, hooking your fingers In one of the loops holding his belt. The air got knocked out of you as Damian’s hot mouth made contact with your breast, derailing your attempts at teasing.

He sucked on your breasts, taking his time with each one, until he took one of your nipples into his mouth. You didn’t get to remind him not to leave marks, and you only had half a mind to thank the universe that winter was in full swing, and you had no reason to show that much skin in general.

Gripping his thigh, you shifted so you could reach properly without pushing him off you. But you still struggled to unbuckle his belt.

“Do you need help?” he asked, adopting a teasing tone.

“You think so?”

Damian huffed a small laugh, then went back to peppering kisses all over your breasts for a moment, just to see your impatient reaction. When you purposefully whined in frustration, he suppressed a smile and stood at the end of your bed to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants.

As he kneeled back on the bed, coming up briefly to kiss your lips once more, he dropped his hands onto your breasts and gently groped them while he peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

Reaching over for his thighs, you found yourself frustrated as you struggled to focus on what you wanted because of his touch and kisses. If he knew he was making things harder for you, and therefore for himself, by not letting you focus on touching him, he didn’t have it in him to complain.

You twisted your body on the bed, trying to find a better angle. Damian stopped for a moment at that, allowing you room to get more comfortable.

Your gazes crossed as you grabbed a pillow to prop your head up. He gazed at you with such intensity that you had to fight a shiver as his blown-wide pupils followed your movements.

Damian held your gaze as your hands found their way to his thighs, fingers brushing the hem of his briefs. It wasn’t your intention to tease him now, or to do anything other than touch him for that matter.

“Can I?” you asked.

He nodded. “You can do whatever you want.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, blood pumping and rushing as you processed the implications of what he said. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, you pushed them as further down as they would go.

Tracing the insides of his thighs, you fought the urge to move too quickly. His eyes never left yours, not as your fingers ghosted the base of his cock, and definitely not when you dared run your thumb along the head.

You gently wrapped your hand around his shaft, grip loose and fingers barely moving as you felt the weight and girth in your grasp. You started stroking him slowly, not once looking away from him. In some ways, it felt like it was the first time you were truly intimate, with the lights on, skin against skin.

He leaned into you, subtly driving his hips forward to get more contact. You tightened your grip around his shaft at that, still stroking him slowly but more firmly now.

His hands trailed down to your torso, stopping momentarily to tenderly pinch your belly. You let out a breathy laugh, prompting him to squeeze you more firmly.

“Keep it slow,” he gently instructed whilst he began to pull down your tights. “I’m going to get you ready.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” you admitted, voice coming out thick.

He pulled down your tights, moving away from your touch to tug on them and slip them off your feet. Throwing the tights onto the floor, Damian kneeled beside you on the bed, resting his hands on your thick thighs, squeezing as much of their flesh as his hands could take.

Your strokes on his cock resumed while he kneaded at your hips. He discarded your panties too. His eyes raked up and down your body, drinking you in as his hands rested on your hips for a moment, fingers digging into different spots on your lower belly, hips, and thighs, hands traveling lower.

He sighed softly as your hand moved a little faster. His own fingers reached your slit, parting your lips and gathering the slick evidence of your arousal. He hummed to himself as his fingers caressed every crevice of your pussy, as if he had never touched you before.

Damian didn’t comment on the fact that you had been right and getting you wet wasn’t needed, and instead pushed your legs further apart with his forearm, fingers still roaming your folds. He looked down, almost entranced, index grazing your clit.

Your breath hitched, your fist closing tighter around his cock by mere reflex. He let out a groan, dragging his fingers down to tease your entrance as you slowly pumped his cock in your fist.

His eyes didn’t leave your pussy as his middle finger entered you slowly, gently exploring, caressing, with no intentions to truly finger you.

Damian used his thumb to trace your inner labia, careful not to approach your clit. He looked almost relaxed, sighing under your touch as your fist massaged his cock, keeping it hard as it started to throb.

And yet he moved away from your grasp.

You watched as he kneeled on the soft rug that framed your bed. He just followed the movement of his fingers with his eyes for a couple seconds, making you sigh partly in arousal and mostly in utter desperation.

He withdrew his hand and leaned forward to lick a long stripe through your folds, bringing his hands to rest on your thighs and keep you from closing your legs. Your breath got caught in your throat, stuttering between a moan and a gasp.

You wanted to remind him that he didn’t have to eat you out, or finger you, that you were more than ready for him to take you. But you didn’t dare, not when doing so would entail admitting out loud that you had yearned for this, that you were perhaps a little desperate to have him inside you again.

Damian moaned as his tongue traced your folds in the same way his fingers had, teasing your clit with only the tip of his tongue until he himself grew impatient and started sucking on it.

“Slow down or I’m gonna—"

He interrupted you by grazing your clit with his teeth, extracting a moan from deep within you. Lifting his head so you could hear him, he explained, “I don’t have condoms on me.”

“There are some on the nightstand if you want.”

His grip on the flesh of your thighs tightened as he rose, staring at you with dark and sharp eyes. He made no other comment, no gesture, as his hands left your thighs and he moved toward the nightstand to open the drawer.

He took the open box of condoms out and dropped it next to your reading lamp once he had taken a foil packet out.

You watched as he tore the foil with his teeth, eyes following the path of his hands as he grasped his cock with one hand and unraveled the condom down his length with the other.

Damian kneeled between your legs. “What do you want?”

“You,” you answered simply. It was obvious.

“Be more specific,” he commanded.

You didn’t know where it was coming from, what made him switch to being more dominant. It was a side of him you had only seen glimpses of, but you weren’t about to complain. At all.

“I want you inside me, Damian.”

One of those, you didn’t know which one, seemed to be the magic word.

He pushed into you, looking up at your face for signs of discomfort. Slowly, he pushed his hips forward, giving you time to adjust to every inch. Once he was fully seated inside you, he came up to hover over you with his forearms at each side of your head.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” You sounded a little too eager for your liking.

He drove his hips backward, then forward, tentative for the first few thrusts. You tried to breathe through your nose, much like he was doing, but you had never learned to control your breathing nor your eagerness.

“I missed this.” His voice came out broken, strained, as he found a suitable rhythm for his thrusts.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed in agreement, eyes lidding closed as pleasure overcame you.

“Look at me, angel.”

He rested his hand on your throat, not applying any pressure nor closing around it at all, merely a reminder that you were to look up at him. This was the closest you would ever come to getting choked by him, you knew it very well, and you reveled in it, in the claim he was staking on you.

Looking at him was harder than it sounded. You just wanted to close your eyes and get lost into him, how well he filled you up, the pleasant stretch of his cock as he pressed into you. Damian stayed still, bringing his hand up to caress your face, encouraging you.

Your eyes finally focused on his handsome face, on his furrowed brow as he concentrated in fucking you deeper. His eyes bore into yours and his thrusts became harsher, quicker, making you gasp and whine.

He pushed himself up, slowing down as he grabbed at your hips. “Don’t close your eyes,” he commanded, “keep looking at me.”

You nodded, not able to speak as the rocking of his hips picked up pace once more. He brought you closer, prompting you to open your legs even more as your ass lifted off the bed. Damian ground against you as he thrust into you, filling your bedroom with the sound of skin against skin, of his groans and your whimpers as each thrust made you clench tighter around his cock, as the lewd sounds of your growing wetness mingled with everything else.

He continued with that pace, kept your eyes locked as a thin layer of sweat coated his unblemished face. His grip on your hips, vice-like, as if holding onto you was the only thing tethering him to Earth, didn’t falter for anything. But he didn’t have everything under control; his jaw was clenched, eyes wild as they stared into yours. Sounds of pleasure inevitably escaped him, groans and sighs — he had never been one for dirty talk, and in all honesty, the sight before you was enough to get you closer and closer.

One of his hands let go of your hip, traveling inward to your mound. He touched you gently, in contrast to his thrusts, until his fingers grazed your engorged clit. You moaned, and he smiled, making a sound through his nose. Slowly, Damian started to rub your clit, focused on your pleasure in an almost sobering way.

His eyes left yours for a moment, dropping to your form as he pleasured you, watching the gentle bounce of your breasts and the jiggle of your soft curves.

“Don’t stop,” you told him, almost scared he would somehow change his mind.

He didn’t stop, but for a moment, his touch became gentler. The pressure of his fingers against your clit bordered on reverential and the pointed thrust of his hips, earlier methodical, turned into another way of caressing you.

It wasn’t just sex, and you briefly wondered if he felt like this was the first time too, if in some way, he wanted it to be special. You didn’t dare to ask, and he didn’t let you either, leaning his body forward as he watched, as he touched, as he fucked you.

“Like that?” His voice, strained and deep, gave you goosebumps.

You hummed, knowing you would blurt something silly if you opened your mouth. He seemed to know, perhaps he even knew what you would say if you let yourself use your words. Once again, he had mercy on you and instead of commenting on it, on letting it taint the moment, he focused on giving you pleasure, on getting himself closer until his cock pulsated against your tightening muscles, until your gazes found each other out of instinct as your stomachs turned into knots.

He came first, stilling for a moment as he dropped his forehead onto your chest, fingers limp against your clit. He gasped, a shudder ran through him, and he briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them and looked up at you, chin resting on the valley of your breasts, he resumed rubbing your clit, watching your reactions intently, trying to gauge if he should do anything differently.

You found it in yourself to grind against his fingers, making him hiss. His softening cock, still inside you, throbbed at the movement. He pulled out and removed the condom, tying it up before delving into your pussy without warning.

His lips captured your clit, hands coming up to grope your breasts and play with your nipples as he ran his tongue through your folds, drinking you up instead of tasting you. You clenched around nothing, so close already that you grabbed his head and ground against his pretty face, doing your best not to clamp your legs shut as to not asphyxiate him.

Damian sucked on your clit, flickering his tongue against it every time you ground onto his mouth. He didn’t stop until you came, not when your body tensed up, not even when your whimpers turned into moans as your legs started trembling.

His mouth stayed there, attached to your clit, for as long as you came and then some. He ran his tongue through your folds to clean you up, then left a trail of kisses all over your labia.

You breathlessly looked at him as he laid on his side next to you, hands lingering on your chest.

He leaned in and kissed you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, still catching your breath.

You turned on your side to fully face him. His hand moved up to rest tenderly on your neck, giving you enough space to breathe. You couldn’t help but give him a small smile.

“I’m gonna clean up, okay?” you said gently, trying to somehow assure him you weren’t kicking him out.

He nodded, watching your every move as you rolled on the bed to sit up.

By the time you were done cleaning yourself up and had slipped one of the pairs of cotton panties you kept in the bathroom, Damian had already picked up the scattered clothes off the floor. He stood at the foot of your bed, briefs back on, as he typed something on his phone.

Feeling your presence, he locked his phone and dropped it onto the bed. “I brought you a glass of water,” he said, pointing at a glass on the bedside table.

You walked toward a dresser and pulled out a t-shirt. “Thank you.”

He sat on the bed, watching you put the t-shirt on. As you sipped on the glass of water, he leaned back, resting his weight on his arms.

Your eyes fell on his chest, once again on the long dark scar. You set the glass back down onto the bedside table and nodded upward. “Did it hurt?”

Damian blinked rapidly, then nodded. “It did.”

Frowning, you reached over, caressing the portion of the scar on his shoulder. You were at a loss for words. What does one say when the person they love admits having been in pain? And what does one do when the evidence of said pain is so tantalizingly fascinating?

“Does it bother you?” he asked quietly.

“The scar?”

“That I might get hurt at any given moment,” he clarified.

Your eyes searched for his at that. What did he want to hear? And what were you willing to put up with for him? “I find it worrying,” you said apprehensively. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

“But it is.”

“But it is,” you echoed, somewhat resigned. There was no way you would change his mind, and a part of you didn’t want to. This was the real Damian you were seeing, perhaps for the first time in your life.

“Can you deal with that?” His voice carried genuine curiosity. And something more, something vulnerable and rooted deep. “If we…”

You huffed a laugh, not trying to make fun of him of course, but almost incredulous that Damian from all people would doubt himself like this. “If we get back together?” you finished his sentence.

He nodded. “I want you,” he said, as forward and direct as ever, “but I cannot abandon that part of my life for you.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

He stared at you, analyzing you, as if seeing through you. Straightening up, he reached over to grab your hand. “I know. But you might later.”

Even though he knew better than you for the simple reason that he wasn’t new to this, you frowned, almost pouting. Your curiosity got the best of you, and you asked, “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve seen it happen.”

“Well, I wasn’t there.”

Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pleaded, “Don’t get defensive.”

You squeezed his fingers. “All I’m trying to say is that it’s unfair to assume things about me when the parts that might affect me didn’t bother me before.” Perhaps you were getting a little defensive, but you had never done well compared to other people, much less to people you didn’t know. “I’m not saying it was easy,” you added, “but I dealt with it when I didn’t know why you disappeared, or why you didn’t answer my calls, or why you cancelled plans almost every time.”

His gaze softened. “You thought it was your fault.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, somewhat ashamed now that you knew the full truth. “It’s nice to know I was wrong, I guess.”

He huffed. “You guess.”

“Well it’s not nice to be wrong, but in this case… not that bad.” A sudden shiver ran through you. “I’ll adjust the thermostat. Do you want some tea?”

Damian nodded, reaching over for his button-up.

You paused. “If you want something warmer, there are sweatshirts in the closet.”

He dropped his shirt and in two strides reached your closet. You let him be as you padded your way to the thermostat.

With the temperature adjusted and the kettle on, you came back into your room in search of some socks. Damian was laying on your bed, wearing a black sweatshirt too big for him, as he looked up at the ceiling.

Sitting on the bed, you slipped the fuzzy socks on and asked, “Tired?”

“Thinking.”

“Wanna share with the class?”

He rested his hand on your bare thigh, fingers running circles over your skin. “I never considered you might have assumed it was your fault, or that I wasn’t as invested as you, or…” Damian trailed off, not daring to finish his sentence.

“I guess you were just focused on your stuff.” You leaned over to look at him better. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Damian.”

He met your eyes. “It does to me.”

Grabbing his hand, you squeezed his fingers. “Come, let’s have some tea. Maybe a snack.”

He sighed. “Fine.” Shimmying closer to the edge of the bed, he waited for you to stand up before doing the same.

“Want a pair of fuzzy socks?” Before he could answer your question, you handed the socks to him and dropped his hand.

He was quick to put the socks on. “These feel nice,” he said as he stood.

“Right?” You grabbed his fingers and led him into the living area. “I found them by mistake looking for a sweater.”

“Did you find the sweater?”

You made a face and shook your head. “Too small for me.”

As the tea steeped, you went through your pantry and pulled out some snacks you found. Damian read the ingredients in each package.

“I never thought I would see the day you’d buy oatmeal cookies.”

You put the packages he had discarded back in place. “I’m trying to eat more fiber. And failing.”

“Odd strategy to get your fiber from cookies,” he lightheartedly mocked you, opening the package and taking a whiff of the cookies.

You playfully glared at him, but he was too busy pulling cookies out to see you.

“There’s a gala I have to attend in two weeks.” His tone was casual as he brought a cookie close to his mouth.

“Are you making another speech?”

He lowered his hand, along with the cookie, for a moment. He then gave you a confident smile. “Only if I can show you off throughout the evening first.”

You tilted your head, studying him. A part of you wanted to make a sardonic comment, maybe tease him a little bit, but the flutter in your stomach didn’t allow you to be anything but earnest. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“I see no point in waiting.”

“Not even a little bit?” you pressed. When he lifted his eyebrows at your question, you hastily added, “I mean, what if things go wrong like two days later?”

“Nothing will go wrong.” He took a bite off the cookie, watching you, as if waiting for you to disagree.

“If you’re so sure…” You took a sip of tea, letting the hot liquid linger in your mouth before swallowing. Putting the mug down, you added, “I need to know the dress code, though, I donated most of my fancy stuff.”

“It’s black tie,” he answered simply, eyes on you even as he took a gulp of tea. “Why don’t we go shopping this week?”

You could only stare at him. Your hesitance was irrational, you knew as much, but you were more scared than you were willing to admit.

“Shopping,” you repeated, trying to fill the silence. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Damian put his mug down onto the counter and reached for you, resting his hands on your shoulders, thumbs grazing the base of your neck. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead against yours.

You could see in his eyes that he wanted to say something. Words seemed to fail. He inhaled deeply. Slowly, your hands came up to rest on his waist. Damian closed his eyes, grip tightening on your shoulders until he decided it was better to wrap his arms around you.

Nothing would go wrong.

[arcticdementor]

A few key points:

The first is that progressives genuinely don't seem to understand how non-progressives interpret the weird shit they say, and they especially don't seem to understand how people interpret the combination of weird things they say.

At least some of this is down to being in ideological "bubbles," which in turn are at least partially due to having had so much institutional and cultural dominance. ("What's water?" asks the fish.)

They threatened people... somehow without realizing that they threatened people. From their perspective, suddenly a lot of people got very angry, either without explanation, or because they are "selfishly trying to protect their advantage."

This is the bit that really stood out to me on reading this. Part of it connects to my "teacher" analogy, and is partially a product of people who've spent too much time in classrooms, and not enough outside them; people whose experience of the world is 'Teacher tells you the Correct Opinions and you repeat them back, and your grades, and thus success and position, are determined by how quickly and thoroughly you absorb and repeat them.' And then you leave school, and are no longer one of the students… and then you meet someone who clearly doesn't yet know the Correct Opinions… well, that makes you Teacher, doesn't it? And thus, your job is to highlight their many errors in red pen, so they know what they need to fix and learn, no?

And when a teacher tells her student that his work needs to improve, or else she's going to have to give him an 'F,' she's not really threatening him, isn't he? And the student obviously isn't supposed to just get mad at her for "threatening" to flunk him and lash out at her, he's supposed to hit the books, study more, and do better, right?

But beyond this, there was another model that came to mind, that perhaps fits even better, which comes back to the good old Puritan Hypothesis.

Consider a Johnathan Edwards-style Puritan preacher. He spends hours at the pulpit haranguing his parishioners, denouncing them for their manifold sins, and threatening them near-ceaselessly with hellfire and damnation. Did those parishioners get mad at him for threatening them and start arguing? No, quite the opposite:

[B]efore the sermon was done there was a great moaning and crying out through the whole house — "What shall I do to be saved?" "Oh, I am going to hell!" "Oh what shall I do for a Christ?" and so forth — so that the minister was obliged to desist. [The] shrieks and cries were piercing and amazing. After some time of waiting, the congregation were still, so that a prayer was made by Mr. Wheelock, and after that we descended from the pulpit and discoursed with the people, some in one place and some in another. And amazing and astonishing: the power [of] God was seen and several souls were hopefully wrought upon that night, and oh the cheerfulness and pleasantness of their countenances that received comfort. Oh that God would strengthen and confirm [their new faith]! We sang a hymn and prayed, and dispersed the assembly.

That's the intended effect: when threatened, you're supposed to repent your wicked ways.

And imagine, if when that preacher is listing the sins of his flock, and the invoking the eternal fire they deserve to be cast into because of them, a couple of parishioners jump to their feet, enraged, and began haranguing him back, lashing out at him for daring to condemn their fornication, their sloth, their avarice, whatever… then the preacher would be quite shocked, yes? Would anyone in the church expect this outcome? And what else can the preacher take as the motivation for this, except that these sinners are "trying to protect their sins"?

Indeed, this behavior is not that of a member of the church… it's that of an unbeliever. It is the behavior of an outright heathen. And historically, what happens when the missionaries of universalizing, evangelizing religions with strong institutions — including state institutions — at their back meet such? What happens when the heathens resist conversion. Because (as we can see, for example, in the spread of Christianity into "pagan" Europe) it's one thing when someone is an unbeliever because they certainly haven't heard the Good News yet; those people just need to be evangelized and educated, after which they'll see the light. It's another thing if, after they've been repeatedly sermonized and informed of the One True Faith, and they knowingly and willingly reject it, and stop listening to the sermons; perhaps even try to stop the missionary from continuing to preach it. Because that's where sword and fire come in.

Because "universal human rights" are universal. If you have the Objectively Correct Morality that applies to all people and all places, then aren't you obligated to enforce it on all people everywhere? "An injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere," and so on.

Pascal-Emmanuel Gobry was on Auron MacIntyre's show recently, and at one point, to explain why federalism is dead, recounts an anecdote about a time he met Chris Hayes:

I had this conversation with him, and I said, well, look, why don't we do this, like, y'know, New York and California get to be super-communist, and in exchange, Texas and — well, back then Florida was a purple state — but Texas and Alabama get to… whatever. And I will never forget his response. He said no, because it would mean that somewhere, someone in America would get paid less than minimum wage.

(Emphasis added.)

That "So all we can do is try to crush them" bit in the screenshot is a crusader for the One True Faith coming to grips with the reality of unrepentant heathens whom no number of sermons will convert. Because indeed: "What other options are there?" As Auron said in response to the above:

Right, he needs to conquer the world. His only solution is to conquer everybody and rule them.

Nobody anywhere has the right to violate Universal Human Rights. There are no exceptions or escape from Objectively Correct Morality. (Consider what the Torah says about peoples who refuse to obey the Noahide laws, and what is to be done about them.) You're not allowed to reject the One True Faith. There is no right to be "a -phobe or an -ist."

Error has no rights.

They don't seem to understand that anyone is or was trying to negotiate with them.

Because they don't see it as a negotiation. One does not "negotiate" with the tenets of the One True Faith — that's pretty much the definition of "non-negotiable." Nor, to go to the other analogy, does a teacher "negotiate" with their students as to the curriculum, and to which test answers are correct. We all should know by now that when certain kinds of people say that "we need to have a discussion" on a topic, what they mean is that they get to lecture you, and you're supposed to shut up and listen. This isn't a negotiation, this is Teacher educating you, the student, in what the Correct Answers are. This is the Experts telling all the ignorant non-experts how it's going to be. They are Officially Correct, and if you disagree, then you're the problem that needs to be fixed.

I've made a comparison to the strategies of "woke Hollywood" recently elsewhere, in that it's 'if our customers don't like and aren't buying what we're selling them, then it's they who are the problem, not our product, and we'll lecture them and call them bigots until they shape up.' Blame your audience. You don't need to change, they do.

In the recent back-and-forth reaction-to-reaction-videos over on YouTube between Shoe0nHead and a bunch of other lefties, she more than once made comments about how you blame poor election results on the party, not voters; parties are not owed people's votes, they have to earn them. To which various others all replied, no, if people don't like Democrat candidates or policies… don't blame the party, blame the voters. The party doesn't need to change its platform to suit the voters, the voters need to be changed to suit the party. One even admitted that the current Democratic party is offering nothing to many demographics… only to argue that it's still their obligation to "vote blue no matter who" anyway. The Democratic party is entitled to your vote, and if you fail to perform that duty, then you're the problem, and in need of correction. (Plus, quite a lot about how Corey Comperatore totally deserved to die, because "he was probably a bigot," or "He was at a Hit— a Trump rally" and "a Trump supporter getting shot at a Trump rally is like a Nazi getting shot at a Nazi rally," and so on.)

You don't change your Objectively Correct policies — that are really just basic human decency — to cater to the idiots, the misinformed, and the evil. You explain to the first two groups, and you deal with the third as forcefully as is necessary.

The Democratic base are incredibly loyal, and will routinely defend each element of the combination of positions the Democrats take, either directly, or through denial, or deflection, and so on. They'll defend these positions as though they came from an actual guy.

I'd say more so, even. Because "an actual guy" is a flawed human being, with all his foibles, prejudices, self-interest, and so on. As I've discussed here before, a core element of liberalism, classical or otherwise, is that "an actual guy" cannot be trusted with power or leadership; you have to replace his flawed, corruptible human judgement with rules, with an impersonal algorithm. Procedure is better than people, and so a "combination of positions" that occurs through collectively implementing procedures must be superior to one that "came from an actual guy."

This creates the illusion that there is someone in charge of the Democratic coalition, and that his long-term strategic vision is highly authoritarian. The shadow of an absent leader looks way scarier than an actual leader would be.

But here, I'd argue it's scarier for a reason, because as the procedures and algorithms grow… well, I've made analogy to Searle's Chinese Room before. There is something in the room that "understands" Chinese well enough to answer questions in it; only it's not the man, it's the rulebook he's following. If everyone in the coalition is just blindly following procedures and incentives, the incentives having themselves been put in place by following other procedures, and the procedures increasingly created by committees following their own procedures…

…well, on some level, there may well be an actual leader pushing a highly authoritarian vision, only they're, as Benjamin Boyce put it, a distributed non-human intelligence. A (crude) machine mind running on massively-parallel carbon-based hardware.

Thus the current administration's strategy, which could be described as "a financial strategic bombing campaign." It's assumed that moral appeals won't work (because they already didn't), only that "imposing consequences" will work.

Are they wrong?

Of course, since they are attempting to negotiate with someone who doesn't exist, then the damage they cause can't force this asshole to come to the negotiating table; it can only, at most, reduce left-wing organizing power.

You say that as if that latter isn't itself a good thing to pursue, particularly if they can keep it up long term. Indeed, while you might not like such an outcome, I'd be pretty satisfied with grinding left-wing organizing power down to epsilon.

This suggests that the high-conflict equilibrium will continue until an actual leader comes about on the left side, who can negotiate and credibly enforce a new binding agreement.

Or until the above reduction in left-wing organizing power renders the left side so weak, the right no longer has any reason to bother negotiating with it, even if an actual leader emerges.

Honestly the other thing I've gotten from reading the Library of America stuff on slavery and Jim Crow is the extent to which the racist is terrified that someday *he* might be treated like he treats his slaves.

The rhetoric of slave-holders is full of wounded anger that anybody would trample on their freedoms. Racist mobs would rampage through black neighborhoods, and the ostensible spark was that the blacks were about to rebel.

And what is truly remarkable to me is that people can so directly refuse the golden rule, they can become incensed and terrified at the thought that someone else might treat them like they treat others.

And also, in the American case, it really is directly a fear that whites might be treated like blacks were and are.

There's a feverish fear of anti-white racism (and resentment, always resentment) in Republican circles right now, and, like, look, anybody can be racist against anybody else, but the Vice President stepped in to make sure that Marko Elez didn't resign from DOGE after it came out that Elez had posted things like "I was racist before it was cool" and "Normalize Indian Hate" and "You couldn't pay me to marry outside my ethnicity"

The same people who are certain that every diversity statement is coded anti-white race hatred will argue, with a straight face, "Look, you can't assume someone is racist just because they openly call themselves a racist"

A tremendous fear of anti-white race hatred can live side by side with a complete endorsement, or at the very least an utter apathy towards racism aimed outwards at others.

It's a sick, frightening dynamic. It's no way to live.

[rwshfordgirl]

Hii can I Request reader changing hectors wardrobe (I just really wanna see him in those old money fits girl 😭) and him being amused by that like he’d do a runway walk for her and stuff ?

Thank u in advance 💙

CATWALK

all the imagens were taken from pinterest.

a/n: i found it so cute! thanks for the request ;) i hope you like it! another thing, that middle photo is sooo cute

Lying in the middle of the clothes I bought for Hector, I can imagine his reaction when he sees me in this position. I can see him standing in the bedroom doorway, arms outstretched, asking, "What is this?"

My intention is not to forcibly change Hector's style, I would just like to see him in a different style. And he would be able to look good even wearing the tackiest clothes there are.

I just hope he doesn't get mad at me for this idea.

"I can smell your perfume from miles away, cariño." Hector's voice followed by the sound of approaching footsteps made me lose focus on my thoughts. "What is this?" Hector's confused gaze shifting from me to the clothes on the floor made me smile weakly. "Today you will try on new clothes." He picked up a shirt from the floor and looked at me with an arched eyebrow. "Did you buy all of this?" I nodded "All for you." His eyes darted between me and the blouse "What if I don't like it?" I laughed "so it was money thrown away."

"Should I just try it on?" I asked. "Yes, I'll sit here waiting for you to try on the clothes, come here and show them to me." I clapped my hands excitedly. "Okay then, what won't I do for you?"

The white linen shirt he had in his hands matched perfectly with the beige tailored pants that were in front of me. I handed it to Fort and watched him grab a sweater in the same color as the pants before going into the bathroom. "You loved the idea." I said happily.

I couldn't contain the huge smile I gave when Hector came out of the bathroom and walked towards me as if he was parading "Wow!" I applauded him "I deserve a kiss, don't I?" he asked when he approached me and I pulled him down "a thousand kisses." I gave him a kiss "now go try on more clothes." I pushed him lightly.

Hector took a pair of pants made of the same material as the previous ones, but in white, to the bathroom. "Put the blue sweater over the blouse now." I signaled and he nodded.

More beautiful than before. Hector looks incredibly handsome wearing clothes like this, unfortunately I wouldn't let him go out on the street if he dressed like that. If girls already go crazy with him in the Barcelona uniform, imagine if they see him in Old Money. 

"You're fit to be a model, you know." I said when I saw him coming out of the bathroom for the second time. "Really? Because I'm so handsome?" He asked as he sat down next to me. "You're so handsome and your catwalk is better than most models." I kissed his cheek "My model." 

"I'm not going to wear any of these clothes, but I'm going to keep all of them." I pouted. "You can wear one of them when you take me out to dinner."

[likea-silhouette]

Tied Together - ex bf!Harry Styles blurb

cw: mention of past relationship

word count: 2k

summary: Ever since you broke things off with Harry, you felt a massive feeling of guilt and hatred towards yourself for allowing such a trivial thing to come between the both of you. Now, all you had were your daydreams of him. What happens, in the present day, when you attend one of Harry's concerts and mix your daydreams with the reality of him being in front of you again. Inspired by the song Someone Else & Jesus by Ricky Manning

Sometimes I have this fantasy.

That one day I’ll get a knock on my door and it’s you with your arms outstretched and the widest, most infectious grin on your face.

I’d run into your arms with an exasperated cry of your name as I bury myself in your scent that envelopes your clothed chest and makes my stomach flutter. I feel as if I’m home.

It’s almost like I can smell you now, but that would be impossible amongst the thousands of sweaty, screaming bodies that are currently admiring you on a stage for the world to see and adore. 

As I briefly come back to reality, I smile to myself, watching you from the side of the stage as you do what you were clearly born to do with your life for the millions who know you’re a dime a dozen.

However, in my head, it’s just you, me, and the love that we once tended to religiously. In my mind, you’d whisper to me in that all too familiar accent, “Sorry, that I'm dropping in without warning, I've just missed you so much,” and I’d smile as if I knew this was always how it was meant to be with us. We were always meant to be so deeply tied together, yet in the real world, we couldn’t have been further apart. I shake my head and allow my ears to take in the screams and loud music that my brain had somehow filtered out in order to bring me to this space inside of my head where I went way more often than I’d like to admit. I wonder if he ever thinks of me as I think of him in a daydream that reflects our past. How he used to play me all of his new songs or tell me about his coffee order from the local coffee shop that day. The smallest things are the ones that bear the greatest weight on my heart because I crave them so so deeply, yet they are so fucking far away. That’s why I have this space inside my head that preserves a version of me and Harry that I would crawl on my hands and knees to obtain again in the real world. However, in my fantasy, I wouldn’t have to crawl to revive our relationship. Instead, we’d both have a proper laugh as we saw how inevitable it is that we would be back together again on my doorstep, because why wouldn’t it be? We are irrevocably chemical after all. Tied by a string that can’t be cut or stomped on. But instead, I left. I told Harry I couldn’t do this anymore - the touring, the months and months apart from one another. It was eating me up from the inside out and I thought that this was what he and I needed. If I just completely cut down our love that had grown into the prettiest maple tree, then eventually I would be okay. That I would heal and so would he. Except it never happened. Sure, things got easier, but I never stopped loving him no matter how many bodies I tried to use to replace him with. Now, Harry and I were strangers and he had been intertwined with other partners, and I was happy for him for that. Truthfully, I was. Harry was completely broken when I broke off our relationship. My best friend and Harry’s sister Gemma kept me in tune with how he was doing, but only because every time I talked to her, which was often, I would insist on asking if he was okay. Years later, I still did this very thing. That right there should’ve told me that what I did was the biggest regret I would make in my entire life. Now look at him - he’s touring the world again and making music that matures with every piece he creates. He’s dressing in a way that shows off how inevitably comfortable he is with himself and I couldn’t have wished more for him…except that he does this with me still by his side. I’m selfish, I know. But it’s foolish, isn’t it? I’m going to my 9-5 job and eating take-out in front of my TV on Friday nights while he’s doing all of this with his life. I am the one who lost out on so fucking much and, the fact that I did this on my own accord is the hardest pill I will ever have to swallow for the rest of my life. Especially when Harry was innocent in the matter, having done absolutely nothing wrong as a partner.

Regardless, I couldn’t be more proud of H for finding himself and those who love him - even if it means others inhabiting his heart like I wanted to again. He deserved love more than anyone because he gives it with everything he has and finding that genuine of a human is rare, yet what did I do with it? I broke it. All because I was young and I thought that long-distance relationships could never work. All because my anxieties ate away at me as I thought of the worst-case scenarios for what or who he was doing while out on tour in my absence. I placed my own insecurities on him and that isn’t fair to either of us. Now, I’m hurting in the process and I hurt him too. How stupid could I have been?

Suddenly, Harry’s voice rang through the entire arena as he addressed the crowd in between songs. Just the tone of his voice sent chills down my arms and spine and brought me, once again, out of my daydream. I watched as he interacted with those in the crowd - they didn’t know how lucky they had it. Being able to hold his attention and be graced with the things running through his mind that eventually left his mouth was such a privilege. I can’t believe I let that very thing slide through my fingers all because of my own stupidity. Harry never wanted me to break up with him. He pleaded with me on the street saying, “We can work this out. I’ll quit. I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t lose you”, but I couldn’t let him give up his dream and love in life just because it was something I, at the time, couldn’t get accustomed to. This is why I kept telling him as a way to pacify his tears, “This is for the best for both of us” - except I failed to mention that I’m no psychic, merely an insecure girl who allowed her thoughts to weigh more heavily in her chest than the love she had with him. I wish I could talk to that girl again. Warn her that he was it for her. That he was and would be everything she would ever need. Tell her that their love was strong enough to get through anything and that her mind was the one creating wars, not Harry.

Suddenly, I felt Gemma’s elbow poking into my rib just before she whispered in my ear, “He just looked at you.” Quickly, maybe a little too quickly, my eyes moved in Harry’s direction, only to find him just beginning to sing the next song with his eyes very much closed and his hands shaking as they gripped the microphone stand. “I promise you, babe. He looked right at you. Nearly looked like he pissed himself.” There I was again - missing those vital moments in life because I couldn’t get out of the make-believe inside my head.

But-god damn-in my head, it was everything I wanted and more. How could I resist? In my head, Harry watches me do the most mindless of tasks with a smile on his face and when I’d catch him, as I did every time, I’d give his knee a playful tap. He’d respond by wrapping his arms around me and whispering sweet nothings and thanks that said how happy he was that we figured it out and finally found each other once again and that this time it would be different because we were older and wiser. That’s how love is supposed to go, isn’t it? If you truly love someone, then you always find them again. Yet, why did it feel impossible to find Harry again?

I’d like to give up this hide-and-seek chase with love and instead have a kid running around our shared flat who looks like Harry and has his deep emerald eyes that remind me of him every time I look at the being we created together. But instead, I left all because I allowed my brain to tell me what was fact and fiction. Suddenly, the whiff of Harry’s scent filled my nostrils yet again, except this time it was extremely strong. It almost felt real.

I rapidly blinked my eyes and allowed the reality in front of me to come into crystal clear view. What I saw, made my mouth hang agape. Not even three feet away from me - there he was in the flesh, not just in my memories. Harry was shaking hands with a few crew members in all black as he expressed his gratitude while wiping a white towel through his sweat-dampened hair. He had clearly just finished his show and was readying himself back into his regular, non-stage life. And then his eyes met mine. “Told you he saw you”, Gemma muffled from the corner of her mouth at me as she watched the interaction of past lovers now meeting in the present. I couldn’t help the smile that graced my lips the closer he got because this was real. He was so fucking real. It wasn’t one of my far-fetched daydreaming spells, it was Harry, standing directly in front of me with a heaving chest as he tried to regain his composure after putting on a show.

Soon, he was standing directly in front of me with a matching mouth that also hung slightly open. “Hi,” I said after several seconds of the both of us staring at each other with goddamn identical stars in our eyes and wide-spread smiles. At first, Harry didn’t say anything. His eyes simply searched along my face. Taking it in - deciphering if this was reality or one of his own daydreams that he always thought to be fictitious and ridiculous to even be picturing. Yet, here you were. Here you both were. Suddenly, Harry’s arms wrapped around you and you didn’t care about the fact that the sweat from his clothes was quickly morphing into the sweat on both of your clothes. You didn’t care that it had been years and years of pain and missing him because right now, you had him where you had been craving him the most - in your arms. Everything felt worth it just for this moment, whether it lasted for just tonight or for the rest of eternity.

Harry squeezed me even tighter in his arms until eventually releasing but still maintaining a gentle touch as he let our fingertips just briefly kiss one another.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much. You have no idea.”

I shook my head because, actually- “I think I do. I’ve missed you too Harry.”

From that moment I felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time when it came to Harry and I. It was positive and even excitement.

It was hope.

[miriammctroi]

The urge to write a Jegulus fic in the style of Reddit AITA posts

James: /relationshipadvise I wanted to take the next step with my live-in girlfriend but now I think I'll have to move back in with my friends. How to fix too early proposal

James, Sirius & Remus: TIFU when our flat burned down and we became homeless

Regulus: TIFU by letting my brother's best friend stay at my place

James: AITA for joking about my roommates sexual past?

James: AITA for buying the wrong groceries

James: TIFU by losing a football bet against my roommate and now he's my lock screen

James: /advice What to get prickly roommate for Christmas so he likes me???

James: TIFU by kissing my roommate while drunk

James: AITA for the sleeping with my best friend's little brother without telling him?

Regulus: TIFU by letting the wanker I had a crush on at 15 stay at my place and let him go down on me

James: /relationshipadvice How to convince my roommate to stop "going to the gym" with his ex without sounding jealous?

James: AITA for telling my roommate about how upset I was at seeing my ex girlfriend ?

Regulus: AITA for deleting a text on my roomates phone from his ex girlfriend asking him to talk?

James: /relationshipadvice I think I'm slowly falling for my fwb. How do I tell him?

Regulus: AITA after I blocked my roomates ex on his phone, she showed up and asked for him and I didn't tell him.

James: /relationshipadvice I want to take my fwb on a real date and ask him to be my boyfriend. Any advice how to go about it?

Regulus: UPDATE: my roommate asked me to be his boyfriend, so I told him about how I prevented his ex from contacting him and now he moved out

James: /relationshipadvice I'm in love with my fwb, he lied to me so I moved out, I think my ex wants to get back together and I'm about to confess to my best friend that I slept with his brother. Send help (& an ambulance)

Sirius: TIFU by making my best friend move in with my brother while our flat gets renovated, now they slept with each other, fell in love, got hurt & are not speaking. (Someone give me a gun)

Sirius: /relationshipadvice How do I convince my best friend that what my brother did was out of love & fear of rejection & not that bad, so he should forgive him and get together with him?

Regulus: UPDATE: hate to break it to y'all but he took my back & I don't care about your opinion anymore

Sirius: Update: my best friend and my brother are together now but I didn't consider that this meant they'd be having 🤮 intercourse 🤮 How do I break them up?

James: UPDATE: my ex is happy. I'm happy. My gorgeous boyfriend is happy. My best friend just realised that me kissing his brother in front of hom might be worse than answering calls of him crying his eyes out lol