#love me a good first meetings alright
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(inspired by this tiktok)
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There is a lake nearby to where Johnny lives.
Itâs about a fifteen minute walk, hidden beyond the thick copse of trees that surround one side of Johnnyâs home, and itâs something heâd discovered only a week after having moved in several years ago.
This lake is important to him only in that itâs his place. Itâs small, secluded, ideal for when he needs that fresh breath of air away from the bustle of life. Itâs where he goes to draw, to read, to just exist. Itâs his place, and he thinks if anyone else were to discover it, or at the very least be present when heâs also there, the magic of it all would be ruined.
So when he goes out one winter morning, chilly but not so cold that a few layers wonât do the trick of keeping him warm, and sees the figure of someone moving along the shore of the frozen-over lake just as Johnny breaks the sightline of the areaâhe canât help the way his heart falls.
But he doesnât turn to leave, no. Not yet. Because as Johnny gets closer, he finds the figure isnât moving along the shore, but is instead skating on the ice.
Even with the dusting of snow that blankets the ice, they move with fluidity and a natural grace, and just watching has Johnnyâs discouragement temporarily replaced with awe. They pirouette and jump and glide, and for a moment Johnny considers pulling out his sketchbook with cold fingers to capture the scene.
Before he can, though, Johnny is reminded of his irritation and the disturbance that is the skater.
Anyone, anything else and Johnny thinks he wouldâve turned and left, maybe trekked elsewhere through the forest to find himself a new spot. Instead, he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, âIs that even safe?â
The intruder startles and stumbles mid-stunt, tripping and falling back onto their ass as their skate must catch a divot in the ice. Deserved, Johnny thinks.
They sprawl out for a moment before sitting back up and carefully getting to their feet. They shout back, âWas âtil you got here!â
Johnny is taken aback by the gruffness of the skaterâs voice, a stark contrast to the elegance of before. Johnny shakes his head and marches up to the shore just as the skater moves meets him.
Heâs just as surprised by the skaterâs height once theyâre close. From afar, the idea of confrontation had seemed much less frightening.
The skater then pulls off the balaclava theyâve donned and⊠Johnny is suddenly much more intimidated for all the wrong reasons.
Even in spite of the garment, the manâs face is stained red from the cold, rosy against otherwise pale skin. Near-white eyelashes frame dark eyes, warm as the hot chocolate Johnny plans on making himself when he returns home, and Johnny is very upset that he feels obligated to be annoyed with this man.
Johnny jabs a finger at the manâs chest regardless, lifting his chin to make a show of his displeasure. âHowâd you find this place anyway?â
The man snorts, and throws a thumb over his shoulder. âI live on the other side of the lake,â he says. âWhy? This private property or somethinâ?â
Reluctantly, Johnny shakes his head. âNo,â he grumbles. âI just⊠Iâve never seen anyone else here before.â
The skater hums, cocks his head. âThen I donât see the issue.â
Johnny decides heâs not intimidated anymore, not when this stranger is so frustrating, because of course he is. Johnny just wishes he knew how to articulate that this is his spot without sounding like a petulant child.
A gloved hand is offered out to Johnny at his lack of response. Johnny stares at it with disdain.
âSimon,â the skater says.
Johnny glares at Simon. The only reason he finds himself giving his own name, he thinks, is because of those stupidly brown eyes.
A small smile appears on Simonâs face when he does. His hand falls away as he moves to slip his balaclava back on.
âIâll see you around then, yeah, Johnny?â Simon says.
Johnny doesnât get the chance to curse him out before Simon is skating away, back across the lake to where he supposedly lives. Whatever.
Johnny retires early that day. Heâll try again for his peace tomorrow, once heâs had time to recover from his encounter with Simon.
And if thereâs a tiny voice in the back of his mind that secretly hopes Simon will be there when he returns anyway, then Johnny does his very best to ignore it.
Because itâs his place. His. Not something to be shared, even if itâs with the perfect stranger.
#love me a good first meetings alright#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#soapghost#ghostsoap#ghost x soap#ghoap#writing#alternate universe
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My fourth wall OCs! â„ (Patreon)
I tried to put everything in the tags but ended up being too long-winded lol, so here it is instead!
For this yearâs big behind-the-scenes project, I realized I havenât given colour references to a lot of my 4th Wall characters! There are...a surprising proportion of femboys who are aware of their existence here now that I look at it lol - I mean technically only Cory and Mint count there but that's still 2/8 - a fourth is kind of a lot! Their sizing is pretty funny to me as well, Coryâs proportions make everyone else look tiny by comparison, heâs just got a very large eye! Set right next to Gijat too, Vortians are so compact - heâs fully grown heâs an adult heâs just small!
Okay, for actuals now, starting left-to-right - while theyâre obviously organized by height, it's funny because Cure is also the oldest by creation date. She's front of the line on everything! How silly. She's larger than your average plush bear but only by a little - just enough to be like Mildly intimidating if she approached haha. Puntable - and yet unpuntable lol. It's not just her being the oldest of the lot that makes her more powerful (although that is a contributing factor - sheâs aware of her status both in and out of character!). It's not just Kids Rules either since she was made such a long time ago - y'know like ''Oh yeah well my character is [very powerful for X reasons]'' - although yes Also That lol. She's a Fourth Wall OC down to her roots, always intended that way - not everyone here can say that!
Tala also has that edge! Though in a very different way haha - she's also the only one here with a physical counterpart, which is fun :D Means she can go on âactualâ adventures and bring that knowledge back with her cartoon versions - both are as real as the other! I keep forgotting her bow, agh, I need to take some more pictures of her sometime so my mental picture of her is more up to date haha
I guess my blankslate HF expression kind of counts?? Lol, itâs mostly for funsies, theyâre more like a Concept As Person so?? Sure lol, With Accessories of course lol - havenât been fighting it much lately so thatâs all for now âȘ I wonder if theyâll stay so lucky in the near future hmmm
Gijat! â„ He ended up being an accidental fourth wall character actually haha, he wasnât designed with that in mind! He's not meant to know such things, but he did fairly well with it while he was part of the main rotation :) He was designed to be a story character but he ended up being my favourite comfort character so he got a few glimpses out <3 He hasn't for a while though! He's been retired for a long while actually - he's the second oldest character in the lineup after Cure but she had more staying power, sorry Gi <3 I did draw his fairy version not all That long ago tho! Itâs hard to let go of anyone for Too long haha
Cory â„ My sweet special boy <3 He's also the third oldest here! He was the first one to assert himself as a fourth wall OC haha âȘ Cure didn't really congeal into an OC for a long time - she stayed a concept and Gijat was on accident - whereas Cory purposefully and clearly looked outward from the start. He Has a story but it's never been all That developed - he has some non-4th Wall character-friends but his main focus is other, unrelated characters. He's always been very interested in other OCs, a lot of which stems from Bar actually haha - he and Bar are near-contemporaries - they're both featured here for a reason haha
Mint >:| He's...fine. He was inspired from a weird source and has therefore always Been weird - and also asserted himself like Cory. Same story - he has canon story elements but for the most part he's interested in others! Usually in a Pursuit kind of way, and not just limited to my OCs >:/ He needs to behave himself is what - he also has like 1000 outfits and they rarely repeat, ugh, pick one! I wasnât familiar with the eGirl aesthetic at the time I made him, but he 100% fits it, look at him in his elf ears and heterochromatic contacts smh. I donât actually know his real eye colour, or hair colour! He wears contacts and dyes his hair and wonât tell me, he even started dating a non-4th wall character without asking! Heâs a real wild card
Erase is probably the babiest of the list despite Tala being newer and younger - everyone else was made before Erase! Theyâve had had less screen time and less development than everyone else too.They're an incredibly light and oddly harmless fourth wall presence lol for all the danger They pose in Their story :0 They're fairly polite all things considered. They actually have a degree of respect for the fourth wall - unlike Some people (Mint) - probably from acknowledging The Player/Character vs. developer. If there's a hierarchy capable of being distinguished then Erase is going to place Themself in the safest spot. Y'know - to cause problems from lol. I do need to play with Them more - They're fun! But fun isn't quite enough to be full-fledged Interesting just yet, more to do, more to do
It's almost unfair to have Erase right next to Bar lol - possibly my most Interesting OC of all time. First created in 2015 quite soon after Cory, even in the same notebook! He retired in 2017, I think? 2018 at the latest - and then was revived in 2020 and has been here again since. And that's just his timeline! Not counting everything that went into him character-wise. Obviously my sonas don't count as 4th wall OCs because y'know - they're me - but Bar falls kind of unclear of the line between OC and sona, he's always been a weird one. He was initially meant to be an RP character and then over time he developed into a 4th wall OC/sona of a Kind. Nowadays he's a fully-fledged 4th wall OC by design - his change in design from his 2020 revival was meant to represent his transformation thereof - but he's always been weird! If I had to pick a character that Iâd consider âoverdevelopedâ or put too much of myself in - even more than some of my sonas - it'd be him. He's one of my favourites because of that but it's hard to quantify how exactly I feel about him haha. I love him! It's painful! He's great! He's awful! He's very important to me and he'll never return to being what he was first created for again. I do quite like his new design <3 Paying homage to the video that sent him crashing back into relevance for me haha
It was fun to draw everyone :D And it's nice that they all have colour references now! Mint has definitely been the longest without one, everyone else has had at least Something - even Erase! And They're way newer! I did make Mint in a couple online dollmakers but that's not quite the same thing haha, he really needs his clothes hand-drawn :P
It's good to have them all :) They're a fun bunch and I like all of them <3 I think itâs kinda funny and a little strange how few crossovers theyâve had with each other though! So far itâs really only been Tala-Bar-Cory - the rest are aware of each other but havenât really met, how strange, considering what they are!
#My art#Original#Would definitely recommend opening in a new tab on this one lol#This year's Requestober warmup project!#I actually ended up finishing everything well before the end of the season so I had to cast around for a few smaller things to do haha#But if anything I'm quite pleased that something of this size was able to be done so quickly!#It does help that my 4th wall OCs are some of my favourites haha - they get invited out! Or push themselves there >:P#I don't mind with Cory but Mint smh#I don't Really mind with Mint either pft but I do like to give him a hard time - he's a troublemaker!#On top of the high proportion of femboys there's also a lot of troublemakers in here - some of these interactions would be explosive lol#I do think it'd be fun to have them all meet up a bit more! Cure showed interest in Mint not too long ago#And Cory loves everyone haha he's actually very good about all that - he's kind of like a foster parent welcoming new rescues hahaha#He's always been like that <3 It's why he gets a birthday celebration most years good boys deserve good birthdays#I think Gijat would probably be overwhelmed by most everyone haha he really wasn't built to interact with others outside of his own story#And his fairy version probably hates me so there's that lol#He's good with kids tho! He could probably chat with Tala and they'd both be alright :)#Bar as usually snapping up any spare screentime and focus - gotta talk about him! Pft âȘ#He's fairly chill thankfully - a little standoffish but that's to be expected really#Now that I think of it I drew Cory holding a tiny Bar when they were first contemporaries - I could do the opposite now!#Bar throws off the scale of everyone else so much haha <3#Goods lads â„
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#alright re: last reblog#first of all zuko is a massive bitch and i love him so much#second u know he was just like there is One person in the world that katara wants to murder more than me so letâs do that#so she can let it out And spare my ass <3#tHIRD ppl itâs not really surprising that zuzu is pro murder like#boy was supposed to inherit an imperialist empire and keep up an imperialist war#idk if ozai was the only one able to get the throne without going to battle once but iroh and lu ten were generals. led armies.#zuko was Fully prepared to take on that role too (see: the fateful war meeting)#heâs been raised with the yeah murder is a thing that youâll have to do mindset#like heâs not a killer but he Would do it if the circumstances called for it#(sokka parallel btw)#does it make sense?#also like#he fully says that if he wasnât such a firm believer in destiny he Could and Would have killed ozai on the day of the black sun#he says it to his face#this would be a fun au actually lmao like. the gaang bursting into the room and thereâs just zuko there#next to ozaiâs lightning fried corpse#like hello đ§đ»ââïžđđŒ zuko here đŹđ„#and has to convince everyone heâs good and friendly now this is not an evil plan đ«¶đŒ#last thing but this reminds me#WHERE is that post that was like#sokka finds out zuko could have ended the war the day of the black sun but didnât and just throttles him#<333#if you read all this ty iâm sorry iâm kissing u#send post
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being a girl is getting a lil high and turning on music that you can cry sing to while thinking about your ex who did you so wrong even though youâre literally the happiest youâve ever been and donât miss him at all at all at allllll!!!!!
#hey i hope itâs sooo shitty in the black dog btw#why wasnât i good enough#i hate that he makes me ask that#why is he doing all the things i wanted him to with her#if heâs capable why didnât he want to for meïżŒ#i am sooo thankful for music#bc when gracie abrams said and you look stupid going out if sheâs got a pulse she meets your standards nowâŠ#and when she said AND ALL I EVER DID WAS CONSIDER YOU UNTIL ALL I COULD DO WAS CONSIDER ME#and when she said you really thought you would get what you wanted#and when taylor swift said does it feel alright to not know me??#and when gracie said bit the bullet didnât hurt but i still hate the image of you kissing herâŠ#like iâm over him why does it bother me so much heâs moved on#oh maybe itâs bc itâs with the girl he told you he was in love with all throughout high school#iâm just glad B came along when he did#lol me when i remember i was technically still in a relationship when we first met#hehehe oopsies :3#iâm just a girl!!!#plus i was already planning on breaking up with him after he didnât get me anything for my bday not even a card#so like i was practically single hehe#anyway time to stop feeling sad for myself bc i have a hot ass dilf who is unbelievably perfect in every way for me#B - i love you!
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18+ mdni; gn!reader
toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?
fuck no.
those are not the only reasons.
if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.
when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this â a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.
and then... your eyes.
eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.
the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.
"f-fuck..."
toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it â a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break â the shame fades.
the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.
you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.
he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it â how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all â he's obsessed.
but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want â it's not enough.
you want more.
taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.
"toji?"
your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.
"look at me."
he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.
"please..."
his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.
"look at me, baby."
it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes â if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.
his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.
you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it â you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.
you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands â his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.
you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.
curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him â he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it â he's officially dying.
taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.
"fuck, come here."
his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.
he needs to give you his all.
#I LOVE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKK#toji#wtf mickey can write#toji x reader#toji x you#toji smut#toji drabble#jjk toji#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro drabble#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk drabble#jujutsu kaisen#jjk
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toji realizes heâs in love with you when he lets you shave his face for the first time,
heâs got the biggest grump of a scowl plastered on his naturally crooked lips. as heâs glowering, heâs also trying to prevent himself from smiling because you looked so cute. your touch with him was gentleâlike it always was. after you wiped his face with a dampened face towel, you rub your hands against the lower part of his jaw. âsoooo,â you utter, breaking the dead silence as heâs just peering down at you. âtell me âbout your day, toji.â
with the palms of your hands tenderly caressing against his chiseled jawlineâyou smear every part of his chin and cheekbones with shaving cream. even the secluded areas underneath his nose. as you do so, toji tchs. âday was fine, baby. ân i told ya i can shave myself.â
âi know i know,â you hum, creating a circular motion with your hands before gently making sure every sector near the lower part of his face was lathered with nice frothy amounts of shaving cream. âwowww, youâve got such soft skin. skin routine when?â
âugh, yâer insufferable,â he rolls his eyes. although, his skin was surprisingly clear. toji only had a bit of a stubble, hardly any facial hair but it was growing the more he aged. you took it upon yourself to ask to help him shave and he said yes, not realizing how much heâd soon grow to like it. the feeling of your delicate, warm hands rubbing against his face was somewhat . . soothing. with a deep, heaving sigh, tojiâs hooded jade eyes meet yours. he spots your pout and his shoulders lower. âalright fine, iâll teach you one day. only if ya stop poutin'..â
with a cheeky grin, your little pout falters and you smile. âokay,â and you wait for about a good three minutes to allow the spumous cream to souse everywhere on his pores. it takes a whileâand as you wait, you take a moment to stare at his features. toji was definitely easy on the eyes up close. naturally long black lashes of his flicker as he returns your loving gaze, and he avoids eye contact for a moment. perhaps you were making him a bit . . nervous. darkened eyebrows of his arch into an almost sheepish raise while he watches your adorable curious simper stretch further. âdonât be so stiff, what are you, nervous?â
ânot nervous. jusâ donât want ya to cut my face off.â he grumbles in a hoarse tone, ogling intently at you opening the bathroom cabinet for his razor. âyou know what yâer doinâ right? iâd like âta keep my face.â
âoh, donât be dramatic,â and now itâs your turn to roll your eyes. tojiâs got a growing smirk tugging against his lips as he gawks you carefully start to shave in the exact sectors of where his facial hair resides. you did lots and lots of researchâhe knew this because he caught you reading various wikiHow articles on how to shave a guyâs face correctly. toji would never in a million years tell you, but he found that fact entirely adorable. you made sure you knew how to avoid burns and razor bumps. as youâre fixated on his chin, you mumble, âyouâll keep your pretty face, donât cry.â
âaw, think âm pretty?â toji says, and you see the playful glint in his eyes. heâs easing up a bit, and he acknowledges that you were right. right about his stiffness, he was a bit tense. shoulders raised and all, but nowâas of late, heâs starting to calm down a bit the more you talk to him. âiâd prefer the term 'handsome' but that works too, i guess.â
you deadpan, continuing your trail against his faceâthe razor sings out a shrieking tiiiing the more you gingerly shave with soft, gentle strokes.
itâs somewhat relaxing with the way the edges of the instrument adapts to the chiseled contours on his face. the foam starts to come off within each downward stroke and youâre very slow and precise. âokay, donât be cocky,â you titter, and he feels his heart flutter a bit at how youâre just so dedicated. youâre so focused that your tongue briefly sticks out of your mouth, trying to make sure you do it perfectly. you tried your hardest not to cut himâyou were so careful and that simple detail alone could have been enough for him to propose. âyou should let me do this more. âs kinda fun.â
âeh. maybe,â toji shrugs, his voice coming out in a rough rasp. he doesnât even realize it but his expressions significantly soften. he was only this way around you. to him, the thought of that was kind of scary. after you start to edge with the precision trimmer and reach underneath his nose and chin, you wrap it up. successfully discarding all of the foamy cream from his face, spotting his now clean jawline, you break away to rinse off the now grubby blades in the sink. âall done?â
âwaitâ donât look yet,â you gasp, preventing him from gazing at himself in the mirror. âi still have to do the uh . . whatâs it called again?â
toji snickers. âaftershave, baby.â
âaftershave,â you repeat. âright right,â and youâre so cute, kneeling down towards the wooden cabinet directly underneath the sink. you take out the mini bottle, pouring a nice goopy amount into your palm. you let toji wash his face with cold water first, patting it dry, and then you start to bedaub the facial balm in all the sensitive areas against his skin. he adores the mushy texture of your hands making contact with his face as each second passes. tojiâs eyeing you, an almost grunt leaving his lips as a thumb of yours gently tickles against his infamous scar. the scar that slants itself near the right side of his lip. âthereee we go,â you give him a soft smile, the aromatic scent of tea tree oil setting against your nostrils. up close, his pores were now all so clear and you stare in awe for a bit at just how charming he was. the moisture that lays against his skin feels a lot more smooth. you grow silent for a moment before your own face softens. âokayyy, âm done.â
toji finally glances into the mirror, seeing his freshly new spotless face and he sees your proud toothy grin in the mirrorâs reflection behind him. he cranes his neck to the side, feeling the once rough texture of his jawline now soft. he then lets off a tiny exhale. âlooks good. yâer a natural,â and he turns to face you, heâs pondering on what to say. oh, your eyes sparkled with such admiration from his praise that it was just adorable. âthank you, sweetheart. for yâknow . . takinâ care of me. yâer really . . sweet.â
and with that, his lips inch down to press a warm kiss against the crown of your head. your heart immediately swarms up with a frantic school of butterflies and so does his. toji prepares speak again and itâs an almost inaudible mumble. you could barely even register what he said at first because it was so hushed, but toji gruffs in a low tone. âi ⊠love you..â
âh- huh?â
scoffing, he hides the burning embarrassed flush against his face by pulling you into his broad chest. you giggle at how he just abruptly snatches you close into his warm body before he slings a beefy arm around you. âi said, letâs uh.. do our skin care together later tânight.â
âawww i love you too tojââ
âoh my god, s-shut up..â
#â
vegasbaby.#toji x reader#toji fluff#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk fic#jjk imagines
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I can't stop thinking about Ghost being such a gentleman when your boyfriend is an ass....
warning: domestic abuse, adult language
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You were mortified that it happened at work this time...
Your boyfriend was a brute of a man, made worse over the months by drinking alone at night while you bartended to help pay down your student debts from several years ago. He got a little rough with you, but only when he was plastered. And you forgave him, because he was decent the rest of the time.
But suddenly you had to start coming to the pub to pull pints with a little extra makeup on your face. The random patrons out for a casual drink wouldn't have noticed, but your regular boys did. You only knew them by Ghost and Soap. They were military and mean looking, but they laughed together like teenage schoolmates. It was always a good night when they sat at the bar, but you could often feel their eyes on you.
"Y' alright, love?" Ghost asked the first night you wore extra eye makeup and a bright red lipstick.
"Yes," you told him, not meeting his eyes. Your face hurt. Your boyfriend had slapped you two days ago. Your skin was puffy and bruised, and you were embarrassed and afraid to move out, so you stayed. "You boys need another round?"
They left you a sizable tip. They always did.
The next time you saw them, your lip was split open, and you were desperate for a way out of the mess your life had turned into. Trying to hide your face while you mixed drinks was a chore, and as soon as Ghost and Soap arrived, you knew it was useless.
When Soap disappeared toward the washrooms, Ghost leaned across the bar, his hulking shoulders taking up more than their fair of space, making you smile slightly. His voice was deep and soft, but his words made you shiver and freeze with your hand on a pint glass. "Y' know, a pretty little thing like you belongs on a pedestal. A man should touch you with reverence."
You stared at him silently as his eyes tracked the mark on your lip. When Soap returned, you didn't charge them a cent for their drink, but they tipped you well anyway.
When a confrontation happened at the bar, tears stung your eyes, and you wanted to hide. Your boyfriend was drunk and angry, and tonight he beckoned you from behind the bar to a dark corner near the hallway where he could have some privacy while he berated you and roughed you up.
"Please," you begged, running your hands nervously on your shirt. "Just go home. I'll be off work in an hour."
"How many of them have you fucked?"
"What?" you gasped, thinking he'd finally lost it. "What are you talking about? I need to get back to work."
He pushed you up against the wall with his other hand on your jaw. "How many of the men here tonight have you fucked?" His thumb brushed the spot on your lip that was nearly healed, and you flinched. "You have the guiltiest expression. So, tell me how much of a slut you've been. As your boyfriend, I need to keep you in line."
Then he was being hauled away from you as your legs shook. With wide eyes, you watched Ghost's massive bicep wrap around his neck like it was nothing. "Y' alright, love?" he asked you softly, and you nodded without saying a word. Then his face darkened, and his voice was an angry snarl as he told your boyfriend, "Ya' been relieved of your duties."
"The fuck?" he responded from his headlock, gasping for air.
Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' prick don't even know military protocol." Then he raised his voice a little louder. "I said, ya' been relieved of your duties. I'll take over from here."
Somehow, you found your voice. "Take over?"
Ghost's face softened again when he looked at you there against the narrow hallway wall. "With the boyfriend duties," he told you while Soap dragged your ex-boyfriend toward the exit. "Sound good, love?"
He was holding out his big paw of a hand, palm facing up, and you knew he'd be incapable of using it to hurt you. The softness in his gaze right now and every time he looked at you was proof enough of that. You didn't respond, but you smiled as you slid your hand into his grasp.
"That'll do for now," he grunted.
That was the night you came to know him as Simon.
đ
Part two
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley cod#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x you#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#ghost imagine#call of duty#ghost riley#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghostsprincess
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The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep âïœĄÂ°â©
Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ. âââ
Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. Heâs an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he wonât unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.
âAre you planning on staying up later than the stars?â he mumbles.
Thereâs a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long heâs been trying to coax you into going to bed.
âI wanted to finish this report for work.â
âThe report will be there tomorrow,â he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. âYou should go to bed. Otherwise, I canât sleep.â
Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. âOh, so youâre really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?â
âWell, you canât very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.â Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. âItâs your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.â
âRuined?â
âRamshackled,â he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. âHow do you expect me to sleep when I canât hold you?â
Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.
âAlright, alright, you donât have to beg.â
His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.
âI thought you enjoyed my begging.â
âThatâs different.â
âIt isnât,â Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.
âIt is.â
âSo, you're resolute about that position?â he questions âinnocentlyâ. Thereâs something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else youâd lose it.
âYes.â
Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. âIn that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?â
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ. âââ
âSleep.â
âButââ
âSleep.â
Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You canât blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.
âIâm almost done with the movie,â you tell him, hoping heâll cut you a little slack this one time.
âEveryone dies at the end of their own stupidity,â he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. âNow, sleep.â
Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. âYouâre the worst.â
âIâm fine with that title if it gets you to rest,â he explains with a smooth yawn. âPoor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. Youâre more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particularââ
âI get it. I get it,â you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didnât worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). âI hope youâre proud of yourself.â
âVery.â
Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.
âAm I really not getting a good night kiss?â
âDo you need one to sleep?â he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.
âDuh,â you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says âIs that soâ as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. Heâs always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. âThere has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?â
It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.
âYouâre thinking of dopamine,â he says.
âHuh?â
âThat makes you âall happyâ,â he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.
âAnd Serotonin.â
Another kiss, lower.
âOxytocin.â
Heâs at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.
âReduced cortisol.â
Flustered, you grip his arms.
âZayne, stop, it tickles,â you whine, but itâs the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.
His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,
âYou need it to help you sleep, isnât that what you said?â
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ. âââ
âWhy donât you just say you donât love me anymore?â
You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. Youâre resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. Youâre entirely confused as to what you couldâve done to make him think something like that.
âHuh?â
âYouâve been playing video games for whatâthe last two hours?â he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. Itâs too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. âWhat are you playing anyway? AnâŠotome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.â
Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. âSo, itâs one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.â
And by those things, you mean his dramatics.
âHush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,â he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that youâre completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. âWhatâs this game giving you that Iâm not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?â
Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. âYouâre plenty, perfect even.â
He scoffs and refuses to look at you. âApparently not. Donât you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but youâre too busy to notice because youâre playing silly games?â
Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.
âRafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?â
âWant is a strong word,â he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, âbut I wouldnât be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.â
Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. Youâre not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.
Teasingly, you coo at him. âYouâre so needy.â
âIâd rather say you humans arenât needy enough,â he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. âAh, the sweet taste of victory.â
Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. âGo to sleep.â
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ. âââ
#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#rafayel x reader#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fluff#love and deepspace smut#adelssmut#notsfw
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đđđđđđđđ đđ
đđđđđđđđ
- zayne x reader
he is your husband and you are his wife. but of course you know the bitter truthâyou will never be able to replace her.
genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive contentâminors do not interact!âangst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, drunken sex, mentions of injury, blood, hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here), spoilers! from zayneâs bond story nostalgic sweetness
note: wc. 8k ! i've been having these bits and pieces scenarios for zayne in mind and then i thought what if i combined it all into one angst joyride? :)) tagging per request: @kissxcore @rjreins @i2s2m @tom-pls-fuck-me @yueyoonie @sanriosatoru
07.15 p.m
Zayne would be getting off work soon. He had just finished an emergency surgery, and it had been exhausting. Now it was quite late.
âDr. Zayne! Great job today!â Greyson exclaimed, suddenly strolling into his consultation room with a grin. âWant to grab dinner with us?â
Honestly, he was starving too. âWhere?â
âOh, you know, that new place that just opened nearby! They have the tastiest tiramisu, or so Iâve heard. Câmon, weâre inviting the nurses too!â
He knew he needed to head home soon, but fatigue and hunger blurred his thoughts at the mention of dessert.
âAlright.â
. . .
08.25 p.m
Getting together with the hospital staff was always nice. They were rowdy, but it was definitely a great way to unwind after a hard day.
The tiramisu was as great as Greyson said. Speaking of his assistant, he and Yvonne were having a blast. Other doctors were getting drunk. Zayne could only shake his head, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had been here quite a while.
It was only when he turned on his phone and saw the time that he realized, with sinking heart thatâ
He was supposed to meet you at six.
If you were asked how you felt about your life now, youâd be hard-pressed to say you were completely content.
You were a stellar fighter in the Hunter Association, more than content with your job, and you had a good husband. To some, you had what they would call the perfect life.
The wife of the Dr. Zayne. True, it was a flattering title, yet unbeknownst to everyone, also a humbling one.
And the notion struck you once again when your husband of almost two years stood you up on your dinner date without so much as a notice.
ïżœïżœMiss... weâre about to close now...â The waitress approached your table for at least the third time, and you nodded sheepishly, finally finishing your meal.
You paid for it and left the restaurant. The chilly night air hit your skin, giving you goosebumps as you walked home. It wasnât the first time this had happened. Granted, Zayne had a packed schedule, and you figured he might've had an urgent matter to attend to that he forgot to let you know.
Still... it hurts. Knowing you were not a priority in your husbandâs eyes wasnât a fun feeling.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket the moment you arrived at your shared home. Your husbandâs name flashed on your screen. The time now was 08.40 p.m.
âHello, Zayne?â
âY/N?â Your husbandâs voice sounded frantic. âAre you still at the restaurant? Iâm goingââ
âAh, no need to. Iâm going home.â
âIâll pick you up then. Stay thereââ
âIâve already arrived.â
An awkward silence settled between you, and you could clearly hear the noise on the other end. Greysonâs laughter was unmistakable.
You forced a laugh, still trying to sound cheerful for him even when realizing that he had completely forgotten about you. âItâs totally fine, Zayne! Are you heading back?â
âYeah...â
âTake care then. See you at home.â
You ended the call with a sigh, trying to shake off the sting in your heart. As you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, you passed by a large portrait on the wall, and a bittersweet sensation washed over you.
Your wedding photo. Both of you were smiling on what was the most wonderful day of your life. Zayneâs smile was reserved, but yours was radiant.
It is the most wonderful thing that has happened to you... but is it the same for him?
At that time, despite everything, you were convinced a lifetime of happiness awaited you, yet now... it got harder to fool yourself into believing it.
Your marriage has always been lukewarm.
Zayne wasnât an overly excited person, and you were his oppositeâbut try as you might, some things between you just didnât work out. As a result, both of you tended to keep certain things to yourselves.
Most days, this didn't bother him. He valued his privacy, so the way things were suited him just fine. However, several days later, when Greyson approached him with a worried expression and a news, even Zayne had to draw the line.
âDr. Zayne? Uh, how do I say this? I think I saw your wife being wheeled in earlier with the injured from the hunt zones raidâŠâ
. . .
âYour husband is a doctor here. Why arenât you calling him?â
Xavier, your fellow Deepspace Hunter who was partnered with you in this mission, questioned you with a hint of annoyance as he observed your pathetic state on the stretcher and crossed his arms. âWhy do you have to bleed out in ER when you can get him?â
You winced, pressing the bloodied cloth against your stinging abdomen as you felt yourself growing faint. âHeâs... a surgeon,â you panted. âHeâs busy.â
Above all, you didnât want Zayne to see you like this. You could already imagine his angry face, and that mental image alone made you recoil.
âWhat sort of husband is busy when his wife is injured?â Xavier raised an eyebrow. âDid you at least notify him?â
You shut your eyes, feeling a migraine coming.
âI will then.â
âNo.â
âY/N, youââ
âShut up, Xavierââ
The curtain was suddenly pulled back, and you braced yourself for whoever had come to check on you next. To your surprise, the cloth in your hand was snatched away, and you felt your uniform being torn open with urgency.
When you opened your eyes, you barely made out your husbandâs figure through your hazy vision. ââŠZayne?â
His expression was stern, unforgiving even, as he started to disinfect your wound. Despite the tension, you couldn't deny the relief that washed over you. You knew you were in good hands, even if you had to face his fury later on.
Your consciousness slipped away not long after that.
. . .
The next time you woke up, you found yourself in a private room, with a nagging itch where you had been injured.
You groaned, your limbs stiff and heavy, and the room slowly came into focusâalong with your husband's face.
"Zayne?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He stood pristine in his white coat and glasses, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Your wound is, thankfully, shallow," he said flatly, his tone lacking any real concern. "You'll be discharged tonight. I'll take you home as soon as my shift is over."
"Ah..." You blinked several times to clear your head. "Good then. Sorry for showing up out of nowhere. Xavier and I were on a rescue mission, and I accidentallyâ"
He walked away before you could finish, the abruptness snapping you fully awake. He was furious, that much was clear.
"Ha ha..." You forced a laugh, fiddling with your fingers, trying to ease the awkward tension between you. "It doesn't hurt much, actually. You're rightâI'm fine..."
Zayne shot you a sharp glance. "You passed out due to blood loss."
"This isn't the first time it has happened and nor will it beâ"
"And it didn't even occur to you to inform me at all. I found out that my own wife was wounded because Greyson passed by the ER and saw you."
His words left you silent, caught red-handed, but your annoyance was reaching its limit. You had imagined how nice it would be if he panicked about you, showering you with care when he found out. But instead, Zayne chose to rebuke you the moment you woke up.
âIâm not a child,â you reasoned, keeping yourself calm. âIâm a hunter. This is nothing new, and you should understand that.â
âThe least you couldâve done is to tell meââ
âDo you know why I didnât? Itâs because I know how youâll react!â
ââand it would do you better to prioritize your safety and not rush headfirst into danger.â
âBelieve me, I do butâ!â
Suddenly, Zayne spun around to face you, his eyes blazing with fury as he raised his voice. âIâve told you so many times already, you have to stay back, or youâll end upâ!â
He stopped abruptly, leaving his sentence hanging in the air, but right at that moment, you knew all too well who he meant, and what the implication was.
His, without a doubt, greatest love. His childhood friend, a hunter like yourself, someone he had vowed to save but succumbed to her illness before he could do so, died on arrival.
The irony was sharp. You had become everything she once was. You knew her well, too. When she passed, the entire Hunter Association mourned her loss. And more than that, on the night she died, you had been with him.
Looking back, you should have seen it coming. Still, it hit you like a splash of cold water. Your husband was still preoccupied with thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, and worse yet, he saw pieces of her in you.
And you suspected he had for a whileâperhaps even, from the very beginning.
For a second there, not for the first time, you felt your heart shatter.
âI donât have Protocore syndrome,â you stated, steeling yourself against the heartbreak. âMy heart won't suddenly fail because I get injured. Iâm not that weak.â
You turned away as Zayne refused to respond, missing his look of disdain as he stormed out of the room.
That was when your first tear fell.
Right from the start, you knew you had to brace yourself for this. You knew that eventually, this tragedy would overshadow your marriage. Because while Zayne might be your husband by law, deep down, his heart still belonged to someone else.
To her.
You two are too much alike.
It wasnât the first time he had noticed it. And it wouldnât be the last.
On bad mornings, when his eyes were bleary and he hadn't had a good sleep, he would see her instead of you in your shared bed. And with that mistaken sight came a fleeting sense of relief... until his vision cleared and he remembered she was truly gone and it was you.
Zayne knew how wrong this was on so many levels. It was terribly unfair to you.
Still, his concern for you was genuine. Seeing you lying still on the stretcher brought back that very same nightmare, and really, he truly never wanted you to be hurt.
After his outburst and your clipped response, the two of you barely exchanged any words for the rest of the week. To make matters worse, he was sent on a business trip the following week, and all in all, you went two weeks hardly speaking to each other.
And before he knew it, her death anniversary was only a couple of days away.
. . .
"How much is this?"
"Ah, the bow is 50,000 Gold, sir!"
Inside the airport's souvenir shop, Zayne examined the intricate light blue and white bow clip. Made of tweed and adorned with small pearls, it looked nice.
He thought it'd suit you well.
"I'll get this then."
"Right away!"
As the clerk went to wrap the trinket, Zayne reflected on these past two weeks. A nagging feeling twisted in his gut as he thought about how curt he had been with you in text messages and how often you had left him on read.
Husband and wife shouldn't be this way. He wanted the unbearable air between you to end. Determined to resolve things, he planned to talk to you when he returned. He was on his way to the airport taxi whenâ
"Zayne!" He stopped in his tracks, recognizing the familiar voice, and turned around.
There you were, waiting by his car with a smile.
It was never in you to stay angry for long. It was a blessing and a curse, really, because while you no longer wished to give your husband silent treatment, a part of you still felt conflicted.
"How was your trip?" you asked as you started the engine, pushing the events of the past two weeks to the back of your mind.
Zayne didn't immediately answer, and you felt his gaze on you as you drove the car. "It was okay."
You hummed in acknowledgement, and he followed up with, "How is your wound? Do you dress it daily?"
"Mm-hm. It's getting better."
"I'll have a look at it later."
"Sure."
Silence. Usually you would ramble to distract him, but now, even you werenât sure if you should.
Then, he said, "You really didnât have to pick me up. I could have made my way home on my own."
To that, you pasted on a smile. âYou always pick me up whenever I have to go on business trips. Itâs only fair I do the same for you, husband.â
Ah. Was it the wrong move? The word had slipped out so easily that you didnât realize it until after you said it.
But to your surprise, Zayne let out a chuckle and played along. "Well, thank you then, wife. It certainly felt quite off without a certain someone the past week."
So, he actually likes having you around...? The thought made you almost giddy. Despite his usual taciturn and sarcastic demeanor, you knew he was genuine in his own way.
"Bet you missed me," you teased, grinning.
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure it's not the other way around?"
"Nope. But I did miss getting new snowmen."
"...why do you like them so much? I've made plenty for you already."
"No particular reason. Snowman just kinda reminds me of you somehow."
The tension between you had melted away, and you felt a sense of relief. Beside you, even Zayne couldnât hide his smile. For the rest of the drive home, you chatted like you used to.
When you arrived back at your shared home, he suddenly stopped and presented you with a little box. "I got you something."
"Huh?" you paused, bewildered, as he took your hand and placed the box in it.
"Open it."
With curiosity, you lifted the lid, and were surprised at the sight of a pretty bow clip inside. "Whoa, how cute..."
Zayne eyed you expectantly. "Do you like it?"
Your eyes lit up with delight, and a smile spread across your lips.
"Yes!" you beamed at him with zero hesitation, and in that moment, something struck a chord within him. Zayne had always thought you were easy on the eyesâ
âbut when you smiled like that, you were truly charming.
"It's healing nicely."
You felt somewhat self-conscious as your husband examined your bare abdomen, where your injury was, as you lied on your bed. His hands, cool and practiced, tenderly removed your stitches.
It wasn't as if Zayne had never touched you. You two had been married for almost two years, and of course you had been intimate several times, but it wasn't as if you were a passionate couple to begin withâso you often found yourself flustered.
"Mm." Despite yourself, you squirmed. Noticing this, he looked up at you, his unfazed eyes meeting yours with a frown.
"Does it still hurt?"
"No, not really... It just feels as if you're tickling me."
He was positively unamused. "I'm not trying to tickle you."
"I know!"
Zayne wrapped your midsection securely with the bandage. When he was done, he let out a sigh and you felt like you had to show him your gratitude somehow.
âThank you, ZayneâŠâ you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. But in the next second, your heart skipped a beat as his hand rested gently on your head.
"You can thank me by being more careful next time." Your husband looked at you with the smallest of smile. "Your safety comes first, always remember that."
Without either of you realizing it, you both had tried to bury that argument from two weeks ago, yet it was still gnawing at you all the same. The thought that he too was bothered with it made you warm.
"Noted," you cheekily grinned. "If I'm not safe and sound, a certain iceman will get angry at me."
Zayne shot you an unimpressed look. âIf you come to me injured again, Iâll start charging you fees.â
You let out a dramatic gasp. "How stingy! I'm your wife, not just some stranger!"
"A very uncooperative wife, you are."
You huffed, and he chuckled. You really thought all was well between you two now, until Zayne suddenly stood up and grabbed the car keys. âWell then, rest. I have to go.â
âWhere are you going?â
âIâm going to stop by the floristââ
And it hit you. In two days. The day everything ended three years ago.
Zayne seemed to realize it too, but you quickly masked your falling smile with a faux one. "O-oh, right..."
No matter how, it's still going to be an important day to him. You had nothing against it, really. Your husband's late girlfriend had once been your colleague too, and you mourned her just like everyone else did.
Still, even with that understanding, in your heart of hearts, it remains just as bitter.
You didn't want to, but you needed to find closure. You hoped that by doing this, it would finally put an end to all your insecurities.
"Let's go together, Zayne. I want to pay her a visit too."
Two days later, you and Zayne, a bouquet of flowers in hand, stood before the grave bearing many colorful flowers and postcards.
You supposed you knew already, but seeing it firsthand, you realized just how deeply she was loved still. The outpouring of respect from the Hunter Association was evident in the tribute left behind.
"It's been a while," Zayne, dressed in his most formal black suit, said solemnly, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the pristine stone.
You watched as he knelt to place his flowers and then brought his hands together in prayer. You followed his lead, placing your own bouquet beside his.
What should you even say to her? Your mind raced with countless thoughts, but none felt right to voice before the woman who had so deeply captured your husband's heart.
In the end, when you sensed that Zayne had finished with his prayer, you decided to remain silent and rose with him.
. . .
âDoes it get easier?â you asked out of curiosity afterwards. âThree years has passed already.â
Although Zayne wasnât one for drinking, even the need won today. He didnât meet your eyes as he sipped his wine, humming thoughtfully. âSomewhat. As they say, time heals.â
You two stopped by a fine restaurant after visiting the grave. The cemetery had been a two-hour drive from Linkon City, and now it was already evening.
âShe loved jasmines,â you remarked, recalling the pot of them you once saw on her desk and the flowers overflowing at the grave earlier.
âShe did.â The alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue as he continued, âShe loved old popsicles and macarons too.â
âAnd you like them as well.â
âTo be honest, I started liking them back when we were kidsâŠâ Zayne had this pained, faraway look in his eyes as he had another sip. âShe cried over her melted popsicle and it got me to wonder if it was really that tasty...â
The idea that you had to compete with a dead woman for your husbandâs affection left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you had failed thoroughly as a woman.
Despite hating yourself for asking, you needed to know. âDo I help you⊠in any way at all?â
Zayne was clearly taken aback by the question. His sharp, gray eyes locked onto you, mind whirred as he tried to grasp your meaning.
âY/N, you...â
It was foolish, you knew. But you waited with bated breath for his response, even when one wrong word could shatter your heart beyond repair. You were ready for any sort of unfavorable answer, but thenâ
âI... am glad it is you.â
His words made you look up, and you found yourself caught in his gaze. Zayneâs ashen eyes were steady, piercing into you.
âYou were there on the hardest days. And ever since, youâve always stayed by my side.â He held your gaze firmly, voice was thick with emotion you couldnât quite name. âIâm grateful for that.â
And then, with a sincerity that pierced through every uncertainty, he added, âWhat I want to say is... Iâm glad I married you, Y/N.â
You have loved him for so long. Since the days when you know he isnât yours to love, until now.
Your heart swelled with so much warmth that tears brimmed in your eyes. His acknowledgment of your presence filled you with a profound sense of belonging you never knew you needed before.
Was it the alcohol?
You suspected it might be, because in nearly two years of marriage, Zayne had never lost his control like this. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, he pushed you against the wall and devoured your lips hungrily.
âMmph!â His hands gripped your arms while his lips and tongue pried yours open. The kiss was searing, almost forceful, with the faint bitterness of wine still lingering.
âZayâŠneâŠâ you gasped between his kissesâteary, breathless, your voice trembling.
But your breathy grunts only seemed to spur him on. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, fixed on you as his hands slipped beneath your blouse, deftly unclasping your bra with a flick.
He is hot. Your husband was everything a woman desired in a man. Cool, handsome, blessed with hands that could do wondersâ
In no time, he had you naked and wet before him, and with alarming speed, he too discarded his own suit and pants, throwing them away in flurry. And you could hardly believe what you were seeing next.
He spitted on his hand, ran it along his memberâstroking himself with a practiced ease, never breaking eye contact with you. The next thing you knew, he yanked you into another burning kiss and made you topple on top of himâ
âAh!â his hands guided your hips with precision, positioning you and entering you. The instant he did, you whimpered at the sudden, sharp sting of pain.
âDoes it hurt?â he asked almost in a growl when you clung to his shoulder with uneven breaths.
It was too sudden, and you hoped the discomfort would pass, so you timidly shook your head.
âIf you donât want this, tell me to stop.â Zayne tangled his fingers in your hair, turning your face to his. âUnderstand?â
There was always a distinct, almost commanding aura about him whenever the two of you were in your marital bed. Perhaps the way his voice sound lower, but it just hit different.
And you are a willing prey... whenever he becomes that beast.
He inched inside you slowly, making you moan with each instance. He was thick, warm, and taking him in was a challenge in itself. And when he finally sheathed himself fully, your nails had made its first scratch on his skin.
You felt full, and the way your womanhood stretched and clenched around him with each breathe you took made you dizzy. Panting, you finally met his gaze. Zayneâs silver eyes were still clouded with desire as he placed his hands firmly on your hips. Unable to resist, you reached out to caress his face.
"Hmm..." he subconsciously leaned into your touch, pressing his eyes shut together. "You smell nice," he huskily muttered.
Right this moment, all negative thoughts eluded you. It felt gratifying that your husband sought your touch like this as you towered over him.
And yet, despite that...
âDo you... finally see me now?â you asked, trailing your other hand down his toned chest and starting to grind against him. Zayne drew in a sharp breath and groaned, his fingers gripping your bum tighter.
Depending on his response, you would either find peace or face another heartbreak. You had placed your happiness on this pedestal more times than you could count, and it was a cross you had to bear.
But you never received your answer.
Your husband merely gazed up at you with a dangerous gleam. And oh, you could've sworn, this sight of Zayne eyeing you as if he were about to ruin you right then and there, would live-free in your mind for many days to come.
He then buried his face in your bosom, sucking on you with such fervor that your hands instinctively reached for his head to massage his scalp. The room was soon filled with your erotic groans and the squelching sounds from where your flesh were joined togetherâ as he thrusted inside you over and over.
Right in this moment, you felt truly desired and wanted.
You are so happy. Incomparably so.
At the crack of dawn, Zayne woke with a start.
The first thing he noticed was how spent he felt, his limbs stiff and a throbbing headache pulsing at the back of his head.
Then he turned to his side, and the sight that met him twisted his gut in such a way that snapped him fully awakeâ
You were beside him, barely dressed and still deeply asleep. Your hair was a mess, and love bites were scattered across your skin, some on your chest looking almost like bruises.
It dawned on him that he, too, wasnât decent. A sudden coldness gripped him, though it wasnât just the morning air.
Him and you... last night...
Yesterday marked the third year. He meant everything he said to you, but the fact that he did this, with you, on the day of her death...
There was... nothing wrong with what he had done. You were his wife, no one could condone him for what he instigated. Yet, it still made him shiver.
And to make it worse, his thoughts from last night echoed back with vengeance, andâ
He suddenly feels so immensely guilty.
. . .
It was the best sleep youâd had all week.
When you woke, sunlight had seeped through the window, and you discovered yourself already in pajamas, tucked snugly under a blanket. Still groggy with a dull ache in your lower belly, you relished the lingering afterglow, sighing in pure contentment, until you noticed Zayne wasnât beside you.
Where did he go? You wondered amidst your haze. Sluggish, you stumbled out of the bed, flinching when your foot met the cold floor.
You eventually found him downstairs, sipping coffee at the dining table still with messy hair. "Zayne?"
He glanced up at you and nodded. There was something different about him, a subtle shift you couldnât quite place. As you took a seat across from him, you hesitated, unsure of what to say.
Before you could find the right words though, he spoke first.
"I'm... sorry," he said, his tone laced with regret, causing a sharp pang of unease inside you.
"What?" you stared at him, feeling small and unsettled. "What are you sorry for?" you questioned as you gripped the hem of your shirt.
And then came the killing blowâ
"Last night," Zayne muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I wasnât in the right frame of mind. It was a mistake."
Mistake. The word echoed in your mind, but it was still hard to grasp its full weight.
"How was thatâ" you faltered, trembling, as the realization hit you like a truck and you gasped in disbelief. "Oh..."
Her. Again, and again, and again! Even when he was married to you, even when you were the one next to him each and everydayâ even so!
Your husband considers that a night spent with youâhis wifeâa mistake!
The last of your patience snapped, as you broke down in sobs before him. "You're the worst!" you screamed at him amidst your mournful tears.
Zayne seemed taken aback at your outburst, his eyes wide. "Y/N, wait, you don'tâ"
"Screw you!" But you were beyond explanations at this point. You fled back to your bedroom. Zayne followed you suit, but you slammed the door in his face and locked it. As you collapsed onto the floor, the realization hit you with full force.
No matter what you did, you would always come secondâor not at all.
The fracture in your marriage was undeniable.
Things had changed. Your home felt colder, and the tension was so stifling that you sometimes spent the night at the Hunter Associationâs dorm just to escape it.
Zayne initially tried to reach out, but you were unwilling to listen, and eventually, he gave up. Before long, nearly a month had passed with this strain in the air.
You threw yourself into more rescue operations, using work as a distraction from the turmoil that lingered in your mind. Despite your best efforts to distract yourself, the unresolved thoughts and feelings clung to you.
"Xavier, am I lacking as a woman?"
Your frequent partner these days cracked open an eye despite his attempt to nap before todayâs rescue mission. "What...?"
"No, forget it."
Things couldn't go like this forever. It was obvious by nowâas long as he couldnât let go of his past and you couldnât accept him as he was, this marriage couldn't be saved.
Just as you headed towards the printer in the room, Xavier responded. "You talk a lot, eat a lot, and always bothering me when I'm about to sleep..."
You shot him an irked glance, disbelief evident on your face. "Hey!"
"Butâ" his clear voice cut through the air as he turned to you with half-lidded eyes. "You're exceptionally kind. If anyone can't appreciate that, then it's their loss."
At that moment, the ice inside your chest melted. To know that your own co-worker thought that kindly of you gave you a little boost of confidence.
But then Xavier added, "Sometimes you're stupid too. It's funny to watch."
"â?! You're so mean!"
A subtle smile curved on his lips as he turned to his side, ready to resume his nap. "Anyway, what are you printing?"
You feigned a huff as you gathered the papers and brought them to your desk. "Just something I need to submit when necessary."
A part of you wasnât fully committed to it, of courseâit was just that your emotions had no proper outlet even until now. As you pushed the drawer shut, a wave of bitterness washed over you as you reread the title on the blank form:
Petition for Divorce.
Zayne genuinely wanted to treat you well.
You were a nice girl. Too nice even. From the moment he laid his eyes on you some years ago, as a friend of a friend, he knew you were nothing but kind and cheery.
He still remembered that morning vividly: the hurt on your face, the tears welling up in your eyes, and then you breaking into inconsolable sobs. That sight inflicted something in himâit felt as though his own heart had been split in two.
Believe it or not, he cherished you too.
That night, even though he didnât show it, he was still mourning her. When alcohol took over his mind and he saw you, you seemed like a perfect escape. He thought that even if he forced himself on you, there would be no consequences.
He hated that he had thought that way. He hated that how, in the end, you had become a means of relief for him.
Now you couldn't even look him in the eye, and Zayne didn't want to risk trying to coax you further. You were angry with him and rightly so, but when you ignored him and went home late more often, he was worried.
It was what drove him to volunteer for the rescue mission. When he saw your name on the hunter list, he felt compelled to make sure you were okay.
. . .
It was strange to see you on duty.
With your hunter uniform and your hair tied up, you were the picture of a very capable hunter. Zayne found himself unexpectedly following your movements as you came and went.
"Dr. Zayne, are you checking your wife out?" the EMT next to him teased with a grin. "Well, when you have a pretty wife such as Y/N, of course..."
He cleared his throat and the EMT giggled as he sauntered away.
So, you were also considered attractive here. Of course you were. Zayne knew it, but he just didn't expect that anyone here would blurt it out so openly.
But that wasn't the most surprising of allâ
"Xavier, shush!" you playfully punched the blonde man next to you in the chest, your broad smile lighting up the moment. The two of you whispered closely, and Zayne found himself feeling uncomfortable, like being prickled by several needles.
He has never made you laugh so openly like that. The nagging feeling inside him grew stronger as he watched youâeven if it was just in a platonic senseâwith another man. It stirred something within him, making him want to pull that blonde aside, give him a word or two, and overthrow him altogether.
Amidst the growing storm inside him, you suddenly turned sideways and caught his eye, and Zayne could've sworn... he felt time stopped at that moment.
It was so candid that it took his breath away. The way your earnest, unclouded eyes met his. How natural you were while loading your gun...
Ah, they were right. His wife was exceptionally pretty.
But before he could fully appreciate it, you broke the eye contact and turned away, pretending as if you hadnât seen him at all.
Zayne wondered then, why did he feel so hurt all of a sudden?
Battlefields were always a place of chaos, and Zayne was no stranger to it.
He was on standby at the makeshift hospital as patients surged in, continuously aiding first-aid. Some were hunters on duty, and his heart was in his throat the entire time, anxiously hoping you wouldnât be among them.
"Doc... it still hurts," a little girl sniffled right after Zayne wrapped her injured arm with the gauze. Despite the anxiety, seeing this tearful girl softened his frown.
"It's just going to take a while, hmm?" he patted the kid in the head. "It's going to be better soon enough."
"My mom is still inside..." she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "Doc, will they get her out?"
Zayne hesitated, his thoughts briefly drifting to you. He managed a reassuring smile. "Donât worry, theyâllâ"
Crash! âall of a sudden, a loud explosion shook the hospital, the sound echoing through the chaos. The little girl clung to his coat in fear.
"Call for retreat!" someone suddenly shouted from outside. "Alert all personnel immediately!"
Retreat. The thought that you might be safe soon brought him a sense of relief. He turned to the girl, trying to keep his composure.
"Look, the hunters are retreating, it means most are already evacuated." Zayne managed a reassuring smile. "Stay here. I'll help you find her later, okay?"
He went to the survivors' camp outside, attending to the wounded and keeping a vigilant eye on each returning hunter. Even until 30 minutes later, he still hadn't seen you. Thinking to contact you, he reached out for his phone.
"Who hasn't gotten out?" Jenna, your team leader, demanded the receiver with a stern voice, standing tall several feet away from the camp, and Zayne overheard the snippets of her conversation.
A frantic voice responded, "Xavier is still inside! Y/N too!"
"Those two! They are alwaysâ!"
What?
Zayne almost dropped his phone when he heard your name. Terror gripped him instantly, and then suddenly, again, it was his greatest nightmare realized.
You are still inside. You could be hurt. It was possible you had no means to get out of there.
He didnât register letting go of his coat or crossing the police lineâall that mattered was getting to you. He sprinted away, ignoring the shouts of those trying to stop him.
No. Not again!
Debris flew everywhere, and the roars of Wanderers grew louder as he neared the building wreckage. As a splinter was about to hit him, ice shot through his palms, creating a barrier that shattered it.
"Y/N!" he shouted your name, his voice cracking with panic. "Where are you?!"
All he could think about was the memory of you bleeding out in the ER. Zayne never wanted to see that again. Should anything happen to you now...
He didn't want you to be hurt. He hated seeing you cry. For the past weeks, it had torn him apart to see you so unhappy. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, the one you looked at with love.
The realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Yet it wasnât an epiphany but a simple truth he had always known but never fully grasped until now.
If he lost you now, it'd destroy him.
He continued screaming your name over and over. And then, after turning several turns, he finally saw you, standing alone in the middle of the wreckageâ
You turned to him in surprise when you heard your name in his shout, and were rooted to the spot, in disbelief that your husband was right before you.
Zayne felt a wave of relief wash over him, until a hollow croak from above caught his attention. He squintedâ
A glass panel had crumbled and was falling directly towards you.
A sense of dread so great overwhelmed him, a lump formed in his throat, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. He sprinted forward, and with everything he had, he pushed you out the way.
The next thing he knew, everything went pitch black.
"Zayne? Zayne!"
A memory flashed in his mind's eye. The one memory he wished he didn't have to relive ever again.
Sitting on the deserted hospital bench, his eyes were vacant. Utter hollowness choked him, leaving him motionless. It was over. There was no blood on his hands, yet it felt as if there were.
Your grip on his shoulder was tight, shaking him. "Zayne, snap out of it!" and only then he brought himself to meet your eyes.
"She died." That was the only thing he could mutter, pain woven in each word. "She really died."
Your eyes widened in horror, an inaudible gasp left your lips. "Oh..."
He didn't really know what happened next, but he remembered the warmth from when you pulled him to your arms, when sobs wracked his body as he thought the world was ending.
Since then, you have always been there.
And subconsciously, he may have regarded you as his lifeline.
. . .
Another memory.
"Are you awake...?"
His mind was hazy, but he recognized your voice. He blearily opened his eyes to find you placing a cool compress on his forehead.
"Who would have thought the great Dr. Zayne can get a fever?" you said with a soft laugh, patting his hair. "Donât worry about me. Go back to sleep."
You came to see him. He remembered telling you not to. But you still did, and the fact thawed the ice in his heart.
Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out and pulled you closer. "Donât go."
"Are you trying to make me catch your cold too?" you teased with a soft laugh.
"Hmph. Who told you to come here...?"
"Ah, so you're whiny when you're not feeling well," you observed with a smile. "Okay, I'll stay! But only if you agree to nurse me if I catch your cold!"
You were noisy, but endearingly so.
. . .
"Don't pay her any mind," you fidgeted on your seat, a frown on your face. "My mom always does that."
There was never any talk about the nature your relationship between the two of you, but it was clear to everyone nevertheless. You were always around him, and he seemed to enjoy your company just as much.
And not for the first time, your mother pushed him towards marriage with you.
"People are always getting the wrong idea," you grumbled. "Sorry, Zayne..." you lowered your head, seemingly in regret.
He was puzzled, because to him, it wasn't necessarily false. All things you did together lead to this.
"What if it isn't a wrong idea at all?"
You looked at him with slight surprise. "Huh...?"
Your presence was a gift. That tragedy was devastating, but having you constantly by his side made it bearable. He was fond of you, and the thought that if it's you, then surely...
In this memory, he was more sure than ever. What he said then, it came from the truest place in his heart.
"What if I told you... as of right now, I can't imagine being with anyone but you?"
The side of his head was throbbing with pain. Everything hurt, the hard asphalt was bruising his face as the headache set in. He could smell the scent of blood and sweat, but more than thatâ
"Zayne! Ah, hahâ Please, please! No!"
Your voice, choked with tears, blared in his ears as you desperately shook him. You sounded so heartbroken, so utterly panicked, and your voice gradually pulled him back to consciousness.
Opening his eyes took tremendous effort. At first, everything was a blur, but then it came into focusâthe sight of you disheveled, smeared with soot, with tears streaming down your face. But still youâ the woman he had married two years ago.
Yet his heart lurched. You're crying again... why is it that whenever with me, you're always crying?
"Are you... alright?" he rasped, lifting his hand to touch your face.
"Why did youâ" You were startled by his question, your gaze fixed on the blood pooling on the side of his face. "Your head is bleeding!"
Ah, so you're fine. The sheer knowledge brought him relief, a faint smile forming at his lips. "I'm glad..."
"I'll help you get back! Hold onto meâ" you said after brushing away your tears, lifting him up and draping his arm around your shoulder. "Can you walk?"
"I'm... fine..."
"You're not!" you refuted harshly, voice trembling. "You have to go back!"
You made him lean on you as you made your way back to the makeshift hospital, each step accompanied by your sniffles as you supported his waist.
Zayne glanced at you, feeling a warmth in his chest despite the migraine. "D-Don't cry... I'll be fine."
"You're an idiot!" you choked out, struggling to hold back your tears. "Why did you even come out here?"
"I... have to find you. They said you haven't returned."
"There are still civilians inside! I'll return eventually!"
"I canât wait for that. I... have to know you're safe."
His response only fueled your frustration. "You don't have toâ!"
"You are my wifeâ" he snapped, turning to you sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. "How can I not worryâ for you?"
The forceful tone in his voice went straight to the most tender part of your heart. It really struck you at that moment that he had come out here for you, that his concern for you was that profound.
And that after all these weeks, he still keeps you in his thoughts.
He had pushed you out of the way, even at the cost of himself, barely missing the fallen billboard in that violent crash. If he was in the wrong position, he could've lost his life.
You stared at him, tears glossing your eyes.
"That's enough... Don't cry again." Zayne reached out to wipe your cheeks. His hands, however, were smeared with his own blood, leaving streaks on your face. "Ah... I got blood on you..."
But in that moment, you couldnât care less. There was this indescribable sting of grief, but also paired with a sense of relief so great in your chest the very second you realize that now, he sees you.
You threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you sobbed, calling out to him in broken voice. âZ-Zayne...!â
âWhy are you crying again...?â he let out a resigned sigh, but still embraced you regardless. âWhat a crybaby...â
You buried your face deeper into him, shaking uncontrollably. âYou... saved me...â you managed to say amidst torrent of tears. âY-You... got hurt...â
âIâll be fine,â he retorted in your ear albeit in a hoarse voice, holding you close, even as blood trickled down the side of his face. âAnd Iâd do it again. I refuse to see you hurt.â
You cried harder, and he pulled you tighter, his chest aching at the sight of you so inconsolable. And in that moment, he made the decision right then and there.
He will protect you so long as time will allow him to.
It was as if the invisible wall between you had crumbled to dust after that incident. You stayed by Zayne's side night and day, monitoring his condition.
And one night, several days later...
"Here, don't move..."
You carefully dressed the wound on Zayne's temple, sitting close beside him. He quietly observed your worried eyes and trembling fingers without a word.
"You even need stitches..." you lamented, biting your lip as you wrapped the bandage around his head. Tears pricked your eyes, overwhelmed by the concern you were pouring into the task.
"I'm telling you, I'm fine," he gruffly insisted in an attempt to erase the sadness from your face. He felt the delicate, almost hesitant touch of your fingers on his face. "It'll heal with time."
Even as he said that, a part of you was still troubled at the sight of the wound on his head and cheekbone. No matter what he said, you couldnât shake the feeling that it was somehow your fault.
"I'm done. Now go rest," you said softly, your voice tinged with bitterness after tying the gauze. You rose to put the kit away, but even after you finished, Zayne remained upright on the bed, so you leveled a frown at him.
"What, why aren't youâ Ah!"
Before you knew it, he pulled you by the arm, and you tumbled into his chest in surprise. "What are you doing?!" you yelled at him, clinging to his shoulder and looking up at him with ire. "You could've hit your head!"
He looked down at you with a flat expression, or is that a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes? âCan't a husband cuddle his wife?â
You blinked dumbly, caught off-guard. âYes, you can, but...â
His arms then enveloped you, fitting you on his chest and he sighed against your hair. âThen thereâs nothing wrong with it. Letâs just stay like this for now.â
And so, that was how he decided to sleep throughout the nightâwith you on top of him, held close. You felt self-conscious as Zayne had never initiated this closeness with you since that night.
"Are you sure you want to sleep this way?" you wriggled a bit in his grasp.
He draped an arm around your waist, pressing his eyes shut. "Mm-hm."
"You..." A part of you recoiled at the vulnerability but decided to ask anyway. "Won't this be⊠a mistake...?"
That caught his attention, as Zayne's eyes fluttered open. He looked down at you, who avoided his gaze with a pout and a torn expression, making yourself small in his embrace.
It dawned on him then that this persisting issue in your marriage was thoroughly his fault. His past was something he could neverâand would neverâtrade for anything, but right now, you were that sense of peace that grounded him.
At one point, he has to let it go. These feelings inside him⊠they drive him to.
He softened, his gaze full of understanding as he gently brushed your hair back. "No," he said quietly, his voice tender. "Weâve come too far for it to be one."
Your clear, innocent eyes reluctantly met his, and at that moment something akin to clarity resonated within him.
He once thought nothing could ever mend the hollowness in his heart. And once, he indeed hoped that being with you would provide some form of relief or replace what he had lost.
But right now, feeling how vulnerable you were in his arms like this, he understood that you were not, and could never be, a replacement for anything else. Even before he realized it himself, what he felt for you was something entirely differentâ something dear that had grown and evolved into a genuine affection different from what he had felt for anyone else before.
Those times spent with you, wanting to protect you... Now that he reflected on it, it was never about filling a void, after all.
âI... want to treasure you better.â
Oh. Your heart thumped loudly as those words left his lips, warmth spreading through your entire being. Overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice, you clung to his chest, feeling a surge of love and a profound sense of being freed from the chains of insecurity that had taken you hostage all these years.
Most precious. Zayne smiled at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
âThis time for sure... I will.â
And at last... he could say it without any lingering guilt.
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a love song for lady earth | s.r.
in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.
âWhat are you doing?â Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.
Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, âBaby,â he starts, âHave you ever received oral sex before?â
Your lips part in surprise, wondering why thatâs the conclusion he comes to, âI have,â you respond hesitantly. âI justââ you falter, âYou donât have to.â
His confusion deepens, âI donât have to what?â
âYou donât have to give me head,â you answer timidly, âBecause itâs notâ you just donât have to.â
Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. âItâs not what? Now you have to tell me.â
You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that wonât set your cheeks ablaze, âI donât like it, and I know guys donât like it. So, you just⊠we can skip that part.â
âJust out of curiosity, what about it donât you like?â Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.
Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, âI just donât get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.â
âAh,â Spencer breathes, âSo, youâve never received good oral sex before,â he amends his previous question.
Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, âIâm not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.â
He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, âDo you trust me?â
You frown, âOf course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?â
âWould you be willing to let me go down on you?â The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didnât know any better, youâd think he wants to eat you out.
Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, âDo you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.â
Spencer raises his eyebrows, âThen I guess that demographic doesnât apply to me.â
âOh,â you breathe, âYou can⊠We can try,â you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.
Your boyfriendâs lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, âYou can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?â
Nodding, you canât help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner youâve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouthâhe certainly was good at running it. âYes,â you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.
âThank you,â he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before youâd stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. âPretty girl,â he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.
Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where heâs smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, youâd never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.
He hums absentmindedly, âJust making sure youâre paying attention,â he teases.
There could be an air raid siren going off and youâd still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.
A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip boneâeverywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure thatâs building up. âSpence,â you breathe.
âAre you enjoying this?â He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.
You nod once, âAre you?â You challenge.
His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, âImmensely.â
Spencer continues but doesnât move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.
He couldâve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you wouldâve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasnât what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.
âYouâre just so fucking perfect,â he murmurs, watching you intently.
Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didnât feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragementâat least he tried, and at least youâd be wet enough for sex.
Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and thatâs where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, âShh,â Spencer coos, âItâs okay, baby. I know itâs a lot. Iâve got you.â
Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.
Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.
âSpence,â you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadnât thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.
He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.
At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, âOh my god.â
He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.
âIâmâ ah, please,â you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencerâs mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.
Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.
The taste of yourself on his lips doesnât even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencerâs fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.
âCan I go back?â Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.
Your mouth gapes, âYou want more?â
He groans in response, âAngel, Iâd spend all day between your thighs if youâd let me.â
Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, âI might just take you up on that someday.â
Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, âFuck,â he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.
His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until heâs right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. âOh,â you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.
âPoor baby,â Spencer coos at your sensitivity, âYouâre doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.â
You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, âYouâre so good at this.â
He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.
A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, ââm close,â you breathe, gasping as his movements donât relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.
Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.
His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. âSpence,â you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.
He hums a response, âMy love,â he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.
You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, âDo⊠do you need me?â Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.
âUh,â he says, equally as unsure, âThatâs not necessary.â
You raise your eyebrows, âItâs not like I feel inclined to, but Iâd like to⊠to return the favor.â
Spencer shakes his head, âNo, I mean Iâm taken care of. I alreadyâŠâ his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.
âOh,â you breathe, âOh.â Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, âWell Iâm glad you enjoyed yourself.â Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.
He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose itâs not often that a man finishes from giving head. âSo,â he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, âDid you enjoy it?â
You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing heâs changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? âImmensely,â you answer.
#kinktober 2024#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds smut#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer reid oneshot#kinktober#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds oneshot#written by margot#mdni#margot after hours#margotober
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ă»â¶ ïœĄ synopsis â capitano loves teaching his darling how it feels to receive pleasure by a real man <3
warnings â inexperienced reader & naive ?? reader, petnames used: good girl, size kink/size difference, age gap ? (he's mentioned as being older), fem! reader <3
the thought of capitano teaching you about pleasure and passion was unbelievably hot to the point where you couldn't wait for it to happen again and again.
yes, he's older and more experienced than you, so of course you believe whatever he tells you and certainly won't question all of the depraved things he'd ask you to do, the harbinger obviously know better than you do, correct? these thoughts never failed to echo in your mind as you found herself alone with capitano, the strongest and mysterious harbinger whose very presence sent your mind in a daze.
he towers above your smaller frame with his dark eyes piercing through the dim light of the room, the silent command in his gaze strong enough to send an entire army to its defeat.
you couldn't lie to yourself, especially not when it came to himâ and you felt a thrilling mix of fear and anticipation as he sank inside for the first time, making your pretty mouth part with a high gasp as he pressed himself through your tiny holeâ first his thick tip splitting you open, then his inches rubbing through you, his movements deliberate and controlled yet never too much where it could hurt you.
although before he proceeds, his scarred hand reaches out to your face, gently tilting your chin up to meet his focused eyes.
"you must trust me, you're aware of that, correct?" capitano's deep voice resonates through you, each word a promise of what was about to come as he begins to thrust into you gently, his next following words accompanied by deep grunts and groans, "only then i will teach you on how to receive the pleasure only i can give you."
you nod immediately, eager to feel more, your heart pounding in your chest as his experience in the bedroom was certainly undeniableïżœïżœïżœ not only that but it was sexy, hot as the flames of a pyro user as the authority in his voice made you ache to comply, to please him too with all you can.
the rush of excitement at the prospect of being guided by someone who knew exactly what he was doing was enthralling as your body showed him such, and if you weren't so cock drunk, you'd notice just how hard and messily you're squeezing him right now, your pussy drooling and messing him up until he knows he's yours.
his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "wrap your legs around me," and begins to instruct, his voice a low growl that made your back arch up immediately.
without hesitation you obey, your legs encircling his broad waist as the closeness was beginning to turn intoxicating, feeling like minutes before you could feel true solace as you felt the strength of his body pressing against yours the more he'd add on speed and strength.
"good girl, very good," he murmurs proudly, his breath hot against your skin as one of his hands slowly slide down your sweat covered stomach before reaching your clit, "now, relax, alright? let me show you how to feel every touch, every sensation of me,"
his hand moves with practiced ease on your clit as he pinches it, tugs and teased it, rubbing over the pearl and igniting a trail of fire wherever he applied pressure the most as your body was responding to his every touch, your senses heightened by the sheer dominance he exuded.
"focus on my touch," he commands softly, your hips curving upwards so that you'd be able to get his cock to sink even further inside of you.
"feel how your body responds to me,"
capitano fucks you with purpose, tugging your hips deeper onto his cock with every grind as your legs begin to shake, the blur in your eyes making it difficult for you to see anything more than his panting demeanorâ not only that but his cock was huge, splitting you apart like he's meant to do that, as if there was nothing more than this moment in your life which was deemed important.
the warmth of his drags against your walls pooled into your veins and flesh as his cock fucks and fucks and lets you squeeze his inches in and out until you end up hiccuping of being so full and satiated, almost feeling stupid as he sent currents of electricity straight to your core.
©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin Impact smut#capitano x reader#capitano smut#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#capitano x you#genshin impact drabbles#genshin drabbles
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I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)
Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3
âJust one more game, babe, donât be a buzzkill. I donât want to end at a loss.â You didnât want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasnât much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didnât want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin.Â
You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched â really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm.Â
You also watched him play â and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after.Â
So, like a good girlfriend would â you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college â you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well.Â
â Iâll find something to eat, alright?Â
He didnât respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal â not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged.Â
â Nah, stay here. I donât want my father to see you.Â
â AhâŠyour father is at home?Â
You never heard anyone else being at the house â big house, you must admit, and itâs embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didnât know what his fatherâs name was.Â
â Returned from his fucking deployment. Heâd ask too many questions about you.Â
â You didnât tell him about me?Â
Ah, now youâre hurt a little bit. You knew it wasnât anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly.Â
â He never asked. Not like he cares too much, butâŠ
An apathetic dad, huh.Â
You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriendâs horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart.Â
â If you donât want me to come and meet him, I can go home.Â
He doesnât answer because his queue is finally coming to another match â you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed.Â
You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen.Â
*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away â and now he canât even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid.Â
König closes the door of the refrigerator â of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house â a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished.Â
With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge â and then he almost stumbles across an angel.Â
Scheisse
Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young â his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, butâŠ
The thing is â he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son.Â
You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, Youâre dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isnât dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl.Â
â Oh! Sorry. Itâs yours, isnât it?Â
You give him his cookies back â but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue â god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants arenât enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasnât seen a woman in three months and hasnât had sex in the past few years.Â
You lick the crumbs from your fingers â itâs such a deliberate action that he canât believe he actually sees it, and itâs not even something from porn he used to like.Â
â Ja. You can have it.Â
He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it.Â
â Thank you, sir. IâmâŠwell, I assume if Paul didnât introduce me to youâŠIâm his girlfriend. Nice to meet you.Â
You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest â but he canât be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him.Â
Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home.Â
â Girlfriend? He never spoke about you.Â
You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile â too real. He canât handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so youâd stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom.Â
He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you.Â
â Ah. Um. WeâreâŠI guess weâre not at this stage yet.Â
â Knowing him, youâll never be, Schatz.Â
You look at him immediately â youâre offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar â and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce.Â
â What do you mean by this, sir?Â
You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes â and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally.Â
Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys â and in the romantic field, itâs even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being â and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid.Â
He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing â a good girl wonât be with his son if she isnât stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship.Â
The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone â he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until youâre crying under him. He canât do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, butâŠwell, quite frankly, his son doesnât deserve you.Â
König is.Â
â I wonât sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a ScheiĂ ArschlochâŠfucking asshole, that is. Iâm surprised he brought home someone as cute as you.Â
You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paulâs dad is aâŠinteresting man.Â
Tall, broad, very muscular â even his baggy house clothes arenât really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because youâre a good girl, you donât look at your boyfriendâs dad like this.Â
König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman â your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your âdateâ while youâre lusting over his father.Â
Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too.Â
â Paul isnât all that bad, sir.Â
âHe at least has a nice dick,â you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong â if he werenât sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from pornâŠnot really your thing.Â
You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all.Â
König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks.Â
God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably wonât take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies.Â
He can afford to retire and never worry about money again â but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right?Â
You look like a good candidate.Â
â Iâm sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesnât deserve you, Schatz.Â
He is shitty at flirting, itâs not his forte â he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he canât flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isnât something he is good for, this is why his wife has left.Â
â IâŠnot sure we should be having this conversation here.Â
Youâre a good girl, and itâs infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldnât be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you arenât opposed to the idea. König doesnât understand if he likes that youâre so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty â but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body.Â
â You want to see the bedroom then?
Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs â it might look involuntary like he didnât exactly want for it to be placed here, but you arenât dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, youâre too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him.Â
â Sir, this is veryâŠ
He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace â you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isnât a strong man in regard of morals, he doesnât see anything wrong with fucking his sonâs girlfriend â if the girl is up to it. And if she isnâtâŠwell, he better make sure she is.Â
â What is it, Schatz? Paul wonât hear us in his headphones.
You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape â his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and youâre horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you donât want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway.Â
Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them â itâs probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all.Â
â I donât want to break his heart.Â
â He doesnât have one.Â
Youâre lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again â a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much â you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, youâŠ
God, you feel like a slut, and you like it.Â
Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted.Â
You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back â but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, youâre adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game.Â
â Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later.Â
âLaterâ sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you canât help but compare him to his son â and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didnât cum.Â
You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions â you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like âdaddy, pleaseâÂ
König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable.Â
â Daddy, ja? God, youâre dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later.Â
He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked â he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and youâre so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before.Â
He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge â make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people.Â
He can be good for you â but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesnât know how to treat a lady right.Â
â So wet for meâŠsuch a filthy thing, I didnât know my son dated a whore.Â
â NâŠnot a whore, pleaseâŠ
He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him â you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid.Â
â Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking youngâŠ
â WâŠwe really shouldnât⊠â Tshhh, donât think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. â Iâm notâŠ
â Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.
He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy â meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though youâre used to taking Paulâs size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second.Â
It feels so wrong, you still arenât sure if you want him to touch you like this.Â
It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick â maybe because you havenât gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off â but nowâŠ
You arenât ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now â you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriendâs absent father, and you love every second of it.Â
Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, youâre adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm â itâs good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed.Â
König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good.Â
So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole â taking the worst traits of his father.Â
â Donât cry, Schatzen. Youâre okay, it felt good, didnât it?Â
â WâŠwe shouldnât have. Shit. Iâm sorry, it was a mâŠgod, I need to tell Paul.Â
â Iâll tell him.Â
â No! â I will tell my asshole of a son that youâre my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck.Â
â I need to return to my dorm.Â
â And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of thisâŠbut we can afford to go a bit off board, ja?Â
He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once â you donât have the heart to say no. Never did. Youâre a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right.Â
He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin â youâre so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you donât even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen.Â
Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked.Â
â WâŠwhat the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again â deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. Youâre stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are.Â
â Sheâll make a good step mom, ja?Â
You donât even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes.Â
#cod#konig x reader#yandere konig#konig#cod x reader#call of duty#cod x you#yandere cod#konig mw2#reader insert#yandere x reader
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Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that youâre not good enough for him. 5k
c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here Â
â ËïœĄâàšâĄà§â ËïœĄâ
âHoney, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.â
You step into Aaronâs side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. âHow do you do?â he asks.Â
âQuite well, thank you.â Youâve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaronâs friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background youâd needed to see yourself into the culture. âItâs nice to meet one of Aaronâs school friends.âÂ
âWhile you still can,â Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out.Â
âClint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.â
You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time youâre reminded of Aaronâs young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isnât one you could envision on stage. âDid you perform together?â you ask.Â
âSaturday Night Fever,â Clint says.Â
They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasnât mentioned knowing that you donât like coming, But perhaps he hasnât noticed âitâs not like you to frown, not when youâre with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks youâre the happiest girl in the world.Â
Thereâs a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the âKing of the Riverâ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. Youâre tempted to kiss his cheek.
Clint asks, âIsnât that right?â and forces you back into the conversation.Â
Youâre wearing a dress you panicked over for days. Itâs black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl âa black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. Iâm in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person.Â
Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesnât manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and heâs good at making calls when heâs away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and thatâs all you care about.Â
âExcuse us,â Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, âIâm being flagged by my boss.âÂ
Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.
âNice to meet you,â you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him.Â
âHe was nice,â you murmur.Â
âYeah, heâs okay.â
âHow come you fell out of touch?âÂ
âOh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.â He kisses your cheek. âAnd besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why donât you go find JJ?âÂ
âYouâll be alright?âÂ
âNo, maybe not.â He squeezes your elbow quickly. âGo, find some hors dâoeuvres, at least.â
You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala youâre attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light thatâs clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands.Â
You hadnât worn gloves. Hadnât thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you werenât wearing one youâre sure youâd feel bare.Â
What youâre lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so youâd like to believe. You arenât rich nor powerful, but Aaronâs a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought.Â
The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you arenât sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you havenât seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derekâs figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJâs practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You canât even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.
Disaster. You shouldâve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, youâll limp back to the car and he wonât bother saying I told you so, heâs too good for it, which is worse. Heâll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage.Â
Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little.Â
âDarling.âÂ
You look up. Clint McMooreâs resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clintâs hand.Â
âYouâll never guess who I just bumped into,â he says.Â
Me, you think.Â
âAaron Hotchner and his new wife.âÂ
âYou didnât,â the woman says.Â
âI knew youâd be envious of that,â he laughs. âCharlotte, sheâs unbelievable.âÂ
Your stomach does a strange flip. Heâll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense.Â
âIâve never seen such a mismatched pair,â he says.Â
Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. âWell, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldnât so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.âÂ
âHardy-har.âÂ
âWhatâs wrong with her, then?â Charlotte asks.Â
âNothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasantââ
âBut?âÂ
âBut, sheâs nothing like Aaronâs usual woman.âÂ
âHm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.â They both laugh. âItâs not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, sheâs in Milan nowââ
âHe seems rather besotted, in any case,â Clint says. âVery lady and the tramp.âÂ
âGentleman and the tramp.âÂ
âDonât be cruel, Charlotte.âÂ
You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is theyâre implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape.Â
You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth.Â
You blink and stare at the floor. Itâs marble. Itâs shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water.Â
What the fuck?Â
You arenât sure why youâre leaving the hall until youâre walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down.Â
Your head races with hurt feelings.Â
Youâre not unaware of your husbandâs past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly âHaley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasnât been mentioned before, but itâs impressive. Theyâre both impressive, andâ and his usual woman.Â
You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees.Â
What had they meant by usual woman?
Mismatched?Â
It hadnât felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasnât six months after knowing one another as Clintâs wife suggested, but it wasnât much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting âit still is.Â
âWould you marry me, if I asked you to?â heâd said, some seven months after youâd agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadnât realised that when you murmured, âYeah, handsome. I would.âÂ
You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. Itâs terrifying to tell someone that youâd like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if youâre lucky.Â
He asked you to get married a few weeks later. âI had to talk to Jack,â he explained, âor I wouldâve asked you then and there.â
Youâre a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron wouldâve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. Youâve always felt like you fit right in.Â
Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how youâre going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and youâre not perfectly pleasant, youâre a delight, you hadnât said one bad word to Clint and you didnât deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal.Â
Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing.Â
Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse.Â
She was unbelievable.Â
âY/N!â The shout is sharp. Youâve never heard Aaronâs voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. âHoney,â he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, âare you alright?âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âYou scared me,â he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. âNobodyâs seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You canât just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.âÂ
You startle at his scolding. âIââ
âYou should feel my heart.âÂ
âI didnât mean to come out here.âÂ
âI wish you wouldâve let somebody know,â he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. âWhat?â he asks.Â
âSorry.âÂ
His eyes finally soften. âNo, Iâm sorry. Itâs alright, I just worry when youâre not with me.âÂ
âThatâs romantic.âÂ
He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. âWeâll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isnât happening.â He smiles. âWhy were you out here?âÂ
âScavenging for food.âÂ
That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. âYou tried your best.âÂ
â
Aaron takes you home, and when dinnerâs been cleared away, when youâve showered and heâs undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?
You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while youâre only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says âBeautiful,â against your thigh, says, âHoney, is that okay?â says, âPlease, Iâve got it, I have you, just let me have youâŠâÂ
After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones.Â
âI love you, too,â you say.Â
His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess heâd wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek.Â
âAre you alright?â he asks softly. âYou feel tense.â
âMm.âÂ
âNo, did I hurt you? Youâre rigid.â His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. âYou didnâtâŠâÂ
You hadnât said anything, because he really hadnât hurt you. But the thoughts youâre having now are intrusive âam I okay? you think. Do I measure up? Heâs never made any indication that youâve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but youâre unbelievable.Â
You swallow a lump. âSorry,â you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it.Â
âAre you crying?â he asks under his breath.Â
You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands.Â
âThese arenât good tears,â he says.Â
Heâd know. Theyâre not.Â
Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. Itâs too much suddenly, too bare, heâs too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. âSorry,â you squeeze out.Â
âWhat did I do?â he asks, holding you carefully. âPlease, sweetheart, whatâs hurting? Iâm so sorry.âÂ
âItâs not you.âÂ
âBut something does hurt?âÂ
âNo, no, Iâm okay.â You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaronâs hand wobbling where it cups your ribs.Â
âPlease.â His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. âHoney, please, you canât cry now without telling me whatâs wrong.â He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. âHoney. Honey.âÂ
It wasnât the sex. He never does anything wrong, heâs so gentle even when he isnât, and if he did youâd only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way heâd been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved âyouâre not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like youâre everything and youâre just not.Â
He looks sick.Â
âIt wasnât you, it was at the gala,â you manage.Â
For a long while after, you canât get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. Heâs reassuring.Â
âWhat happened at the gala?â he asks quietly.Â
âItâs so stupid.âÂ
âNo, itâs alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?âÂ
You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesnât waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. âLet me get you something to wear.âÂ
You catch his wrist. âIt wasnât you, wasnâtââ You lift your chin.Â
He kisses you. âOkay,â he says simply. âLetâs get dressed.âÂ
He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. Youâre sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs.Â
âSweetheart, Iâm so sorry if I read things wrong. I never wouldâve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.âÂ
You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. âIt made me feel better,â you admit.
âIf this is better, you mustâve been feeling awful.âÂ
You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh.Â
âIn the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didnât see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesnât happen again.âÂ
âYouâre trying to bargain with me,â you mumble.Â
âIâm just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.âÂ
âItâs nothing⊠nothing so severe. Youâll wonder why Iââ You give an unexpected sob. âMade all this fuss.âÂ
âI donât think Iâll wonder,â he says.Â
You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying.Â
âPlease tell me.â He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. âOr Iâll cry too.âÂ
âAaron.âÂ
âI will. You think I canât, but seeing you crying like this, itâs more than enough ammunition.âÂ
You let out a breath, admitting defeat. âYour friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didnât have very nice things to say about me.âÂ
âWhat could he possibly have to say?â Aaron asks with a frown.Â
You pull the sheets up your legs. âHe said Iâm⊠unbelievable, and I donât think he meant it kindly. Said that Iâm not your type, and that I⊠I had no chance of measuring up, because of who youâve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.â Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. âThey said we were the gentleman and the tramp.âÂ
His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. âWhat a crock of shit.âÂ
âAaron!â you laugh.Â
âWhat could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that youâre any sort of calibre below the women Iâve dated before isnât just misogynistic nonsense, itâs not true. You are the most beautiful women Iâve ever met, and whatâs that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?â He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you canât for a second doubt what it is heâs saying. âIâm sorry, honey, I think heâs allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps heâs suffered a stroke.âÂ
âAaron, donât say that,â you chide, secretly very pleased.Â
âOur wedding photos,â he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, âare beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint wouldâve writhed in jealousy in the pews if heâd been invited, because he wouldâve seen it for himself.âÂ
âI just sat there while they laughed at me,â you mumble.
âWhat were you supposed to do?â His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips.Â
âI donât know.âÂ
âNothing,â he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. âYou werenât supposed to do or say anything.â Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. âHoney, Iâm sorry. I didnât realise he was like that. Iâm sorry you had to hear that.âÂ
âI guess Iâm just worried heâs right.âÂ
âHeâs not right. You are everything to me.â Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. âIâm lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if thereâs a question of you measuring up, thereâs no competition. Iâve never been this in love.âÂ
You take a shaky breath. âNever?â you ask.Â
He holds your gaze. âI knew it when we met. That's why I couldnât wait to ask you to marry me.âÂ
âYou said you werenât getting any younger.âÂ
âWell, Iâm not, but not everythingâs about my age, you know,â he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze.Â
âYou said it.âÂ
âI did. That felt easier to say than, if I donât marry you soon I might implode,â âhe shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheekâ âwouldâve just,â âhe kisses your cheek, before turning your headâ âwasted all that time waiting for someone elseâs idea of the right time,â âand he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your faceâ âwishing I was your husband when I could just,â âhe smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare backâ âask.âÂ
âIâm glad you asked me.âÂ
Youâd cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly heâd taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. Heâs doing it right now.Â
âI love you,â you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders.Â
He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress.Â
âI love you. Are you sure it wasnât me that upset you? I have to check.âÂ
âNo. What you did to me wasnât particularly upsetting.âÂ
He laughs. âAre you sure? You can look a little tearyââ
You shush him quickly.
He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. âMaybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.âÂ
âAnd you can make me feel even better.â
His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear.Â
â
Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. Youâve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but youâve tied them at the waist and you make do. Youâre wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast.Â
The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one heâd quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. Heâll make you a compress after breakfast.Â
Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. Youâre sharing a plate. You donât ever mind.Â
âAre you eating that one?â you ask.Â
Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. âWas the gala fun?âÂ
âUh, sure. Saw your dadâs friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.â
âYou couldâve made dad cook.âÂ
âI guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?âÂ
âJess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.â Jack squints at you. âYour eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?âÂ
âI think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, donât worry.âÂ
Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. âHere, you two.âÂ
âDid you eat?â you ask.Â
He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. âYes.âÂ
âHow come they didnât have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,â Jack says.Â
He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jackâs sense of humour.Â
âIt was a disaster, thatâs all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.âÂ
âI thought Miss Jareau went?âÂ
âShe did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.âÂ
âAnd you didnât have fun?â Jack asks.Â
You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jackâs shoulder, surprised when his son doesnât duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so itâs nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. âJack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,â you say. Â
âHey,â Aaron says.Â
You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw.Â
âIt was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,â Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe.Â
Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, âDo you have any pictures?âÂ
âI didnât take any, sorry.âÂ
âJust think of her now but in a dress, and thatâs how beautiful she looked,â Aaron says.Â
âDad, donât be gross,â Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.
âItâs not gross, itâs just a fact.â Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. âMissed your mouth, bud. Iâll get a rag.âÂ
Heâs up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he canât. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text.Â
Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegalÂ
Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding?Â
Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMooreâs computer freezes the desktop wouldâve been very very funny, I didnât do thatÂ
Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities arenât his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet heâs disappointed nonetheless.Â
Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquetteÂ
Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right?Â
Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldnât work out the dimensions online.Â
Penelope: Youâre welcome! I live to serve :DÂ
The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where heâd been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake.Â
â ËïœĄâàšâĄà§â ËïœĄâ
thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!â€ïž
also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didnât mention her for brevityâs sake
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]
synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.
word count: 5.4k
contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey
a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333
this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here
. . .
Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonightâthe date sheâd been looking forward to all week.
This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simpleâstrolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.
Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didnât matterâsheâd have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.
She opened Harryâs contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.
Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.
Suddenly, the call connected, and Harryâs voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. âBambi? Was jusâ about to pick yâ up. You missinâ me already?â
Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. âHarryâŠâ Her voice cracked.
âHey, whatâs wrong, love?â Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.
âI-I canât go on our date tonight,â she confessed, her voice shaky.
âWhat dâyou mean? Donât be silly, is something wrong?â His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.
âNo, itâs not like that. Itâs just⊠my mom came home late, and sheâs, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. Iâm really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if youâre mad orâif you never want to see me againââ
âWoah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickinâ. I donât hate you, not at all. Itâs closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? âM not goinâ anywhere.â
âOkay,â she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. âYâpromise?â
âFive pinkie swears, baby,â he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. âItâs alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have yâeaten today?â
His kindness made her heart swell. âN-No, but weâve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?â
âBambi, Iâm already on my way to your house.â
Her breath hitched. âWhat? But, Harry, I canâtââ
âYou think Iâd let a little change of plans stop me from seeinâ you? Been needinâ to see mâBambi all day. How âbout this: you help your mum, and Iâll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?â
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?
âHarry, you donât have toââ
âI want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and Iâll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?â
âYeah,â she said, her voice lighter now. âThat sounds perfect.â
âAlright, Iâll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.â
Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that sheâd normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe.Â
. . .Â
Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harryâs voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother.Â
âI know jujitsu, you know,â Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.
âYou take classes?â Harry asked, bemused.
âNo, I learned it on Roblox,â Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
âOh, I donât think Iâve heard of that one before. Youâll have to show me sometime,â Harry said with a grin.
Archie snorted. âYou could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.â
Y/Nâs face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harryâs eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. âY/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,â Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.
âArchie,â Y/N gasped, âthis is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.â
Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archieâs face. âWhoâs Harry?â
Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldnât exactly explain that to her little brother. âHeâs... my special friend.â
Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/Nâs shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.
âH-Harry, Iâm really sorryââ she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.
âBambi,â he murmured with a soft sigh, âI missed you.â
She smiled against his chest. âYou just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.â
Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. âKiss?â
Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm.Â
âHave you eaten yet?â he murmured against her lips. âI brought pizza.â
âYou didnât have to,â Y/N sighed softly. âI was just going to throw something in the oven.â
âHey, Bambi.â She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. âI wanted to. Iâm here to help, okay? Now, why donât we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and Iâll set the table.â
âO-Oh, okay.â She nodded, a bit flustered. âJust so you know, my brothers can be⊠intense.â
Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. âItâs okay, Iâve got a niece. Iâm sure theyâll be fine.â
Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.
âWho are you?â a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.
âThatâs Y/Nâs special friend,â Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.
âWerenât you the guy making out with my sister the other night?â The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.
Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. âWell, I guess thatâs one way to put it.â
âSammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.â Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said.Â
âJack, can you grab an extra chair?â Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sisterâs instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chestâpart of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didnât know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him theyâd had to adapt quickly.
They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.
âCalm down,â he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. âYâ so stiff, Bambi.â
Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. âSorry, I just get soââ
âSo?â Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. âSo what, baby?â
âSo nervous,â Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.
A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the coupleâs banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.
âHow old are you?â Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.
Y/N choked on her drink. âSammy! You canât just ask people thatâitâs rude!â
Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. âNo, itâs alright,â he said, amused. âIâm thirty.â
âWhoa, youâre old!â Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.
âArchie!â Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.
âI guess it is kind of old,â Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.
âAre you rich?â Sammy pressed, undeterred.
Y/Nâs face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
âI do well,â Harry replied, keeping his tone light. âI own a fashion company.â
âThat means heâs rich,â Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. âDo you have a sports car?â
Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, âI own three.â
Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. âNo wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!â
âIf you think thatâs cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,â Harry teased.
âCandy?â Archieâs eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.
âBetter.â
âIce cream?â
Harry nodded. âIce cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.â
Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner werenât a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.
Harryâs smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. âWhat do you want from my sister?â Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.
Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before sheâd even taken a bite.
Harryâs hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.
âItâs still early,â Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammyâs without faltering. âBut I really, really like your sister.â
Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. âYouâre not allowed to like her as much as we do.â
Y/Nâs heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.
Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. âI wouldnât dream of it.â
. . .
"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes theyâd made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.
"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"
Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game theyâd been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.
Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark youâre taking us to," Archie said eagerly.
Harryâs eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard thereâs a certain someoneâs birthday coming up soon."
Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebrationâmovies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/Nâs smile faded slightly.
Harry noticed the shift immediately. "Whatâs wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"
"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didnât do anything wrong. Itâs just... Archie's birthday isnât for another month."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"
Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just donât want to make promises, you know, in case⊠I mean, what ifâŠ" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldnât help worrying about the futureâthe uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.
"Bambi," Harryâs voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Whereâd you go?"
She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Yâ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else âcause you're thinkinâ too much."
"I do that?" she asked, surprised.
"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."
"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.
"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothersâtheyâre a credit to you."
Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my momâ"
"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."
Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadnât expected that. She hadnât realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.
She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.
That is, until Sammyâs voice rang out from the hallway. "Iâm coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"
Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, weâre behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.
Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words heâd spoken earlier echoed in her mindâwords that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.
. . .
Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm sheâd set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harryâs employment. She was excited, of course, but that didnât stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.
She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.
Harry: Morning, Bambi đ Thereâs a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? Iâll be waiting for you at the office. Youâre gonna be amazing x
A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harryâs words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldnât help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.
She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.
Y/N: Thank you. Iâm a little nervous but Iâll do my best. See you soon đ
Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said âprofessional but approachable,â taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the timeâ6:45 a.m.âthe car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.
She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldnât help but feel like the only person awake in the world.
Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.
âThatâs me,â she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.
You can do this. Youâre ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.
Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.
Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x
Bambi: Isnât that my job today? x
Harry: Itâs my job to take care of you everyday
Y/N didnât realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage.Â
Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide awayâbut then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.
Sheâd seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeableâuntil he looked her way, and his whole form softened.
âYouâre here,â His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.
She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, âGood morning, Mr Styles.â
The corner of Harryâs lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. âGood morning,â he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. âReady for today?â
âY-yes,â She said but it wasnât all that convincing.
Harry grabbed her hand, âYouâll be just fine Bambi.â He murmured the nickname just for her to hear.Â
The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/Nâs nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.
As they stepped into the elevator, Harryâs thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since sheâd last seen him.
When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.
Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/Nâs hand as he greeted her.
âLindsey, this is Y/N,â he said, glancing between them. âSheâs starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.â
Lindsey extended her hand warmly. âOh is this-â
Harryâs gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.
âY/N! Itâs so nice to meet you.â She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. âI have to admit, Iâm a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistantâhe can be a real pain most days.â She shot him a playful look. âBut donât worry, just donât enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.âÂ
Y/N giggled and Harryâs eyes brightened at the sound, ââY/N,â he said, his voice warm, âyouâre in very good hands.â He turned to Lindsey. âMake sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but donât overwhelm her.â
Lindsey chuckled. âIâll keep it light for today, boss. Weâd be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.â
Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, âIâll see you later, then.â His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasnât the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good.Â
âAlright, letâs get started,â Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harryâs office. âFirst things firstâcoffee? Iâll show you the best spot, and then weâll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.âÂ
. . .
Y/N liked Lindsey a lot.Â
She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistakeâlike earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and whiteâLindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasnât used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.
Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, sheâd explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.
Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.
âOkay, Harryâs in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,â Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.
She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. âHeâs particular about the temperatureâhot but not scalding,â Lindsey explained with a wink. âDonât worry youâll get the hang of things.â
Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.
âYouâll be fine,â Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. âJust go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. Youâll be a natural at this in no time.â
âIâm going in alone?â Y/Nâs eyes widened.
âItâs good practice,â Lindsey grins, âGood luck!â
Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harryâs eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.
As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.
In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.
ââWatch where youâre going!â he barked, rising from his seat. âDo you even know how to serve properly?â
Y/Nâs heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.
âDo you think itâs okay to talk to a woman like that?â Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.
âShe stained my shirt! Sheâs lucky Iâm not making her pay for it,â the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew heâd crossed a line.
Harryâs eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. âY/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?â
Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.
Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harryâs signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. âYour final checkâenough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.â
âFinal?â Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.
âCorrect,â Harry replied nonchalantly.
Mr. Smithâs face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. âMeeting adjourned,â Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.
Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.
Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. âAre you okay?â Harry asked, concern etched on his face.
She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. âI feel like I canât do anything right,â she admitted, her voice muffled.
Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. âYou did nothing wrong.â
âYou canât fire people because of me, Harry.â
âDonât worry about him. Weâve wanted to get rid of him for agesâjust a sexist prick. Turns out youâre a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,â he chuckled lightly.
Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. âThese eyes,â he whispered.
A smile broke through her sadness. âIâm sorry for ruining your meeting.â
âDonât care, Bambi.â He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. âYou actually made it better.â
âI did?â she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.
âMhm,â he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harryâs lips brushed against hers.Â
âOkay, what the hell happened?â Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.
âWow, Lindsey,â Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. âTry knocking next time, yeah?â
âSince when have I ever needed to knock?â Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.
âSince now,â Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, âIf youâll excuse meâŠâ He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.
A laugh escaped Y/Nâs lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time sheâd witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. âSo, are you two likeâŠ?â
âNo,â Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.
Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. âMight want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,â she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.
. . .
Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. âBambi,â He slurred against her lips.â
âHm?â She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer.Â
âI was thinking,â He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, âMaybe this weekend yâ could come to my place and stay the night.â
âThe night?â Sheâd never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house.Â
âYeah⊠Would you be okay with that?âÂ
âY-Yeah, I think so.â
âYâ think so?â Harry grinned, âAre yâ sure?â
She smiled, âIâd like that.â
âWell, alright then,â he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. âGoodnight, Bambi.â
âGoodnight, Harry.â Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.
Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.
Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing
Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!
Harry: Canât help it BambiÂ
Harry: Iâm obsessed with you
. . .
taglist ~~
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#harry styles fic rec#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagine#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#bambi#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry edward styles#harry styles writing#fanfiction#ceo!harrystyles#ceoharry#shy!reader#fic rec
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quick tweet, big problem- o.piastri
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summary: you and oscar are together, but the world doesn't need to know you're engaged. lando decides they do.
pairing: oscar piastri x fem! kravitz! reader
(context in case you don't know him: ted kravitz is a skyf1 presenter)
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âRed flag, red flag, come in,â Tom said.
Annoyance surged through him. This race was not going his way at all. He started slowing down, following closely behind Lawson. âWhoâs off?â
âColapinto,â he explained. âItâs a big one, probably a 20 to 30 minute red flag.â
For fucks sake. Oscar had told them it was too dangerous. They didnât listen. He paid the price. Now Max was up into p2, and Lando was stuck in p5. Oscar couldnât even do anything to help. He grunted, getting out of the car and following Tom back to the garage.Â
He was ushered over to his engineers, but honestly all he wanted was to see you. Being Landoâs race engineer, Oscar had seen you around the paddock in some of his first weeks and befriended you, on top of that, heâd fallen madly in love with you and asked you out 11 months ago. You two had been going out for 11 months now, and, while he could see you between the screens as his engineers and Andrea gave him advice about the race, he kind of tuned them out, too busy staring at you.
âJesus, loverboy, just go say hi and come back, alright? We need you thinking with your head, not your dick,â Zak scoffed, finally allowing him to see you.Â
Quickly, Oscar rounded the corner of the desk and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on the top of yours. You didnât stop talking to Lando, explaining the plan for the rest of the race.Â
âBut I fucking said to stay out,â Lando whined.Â
âNo, you told us to box you. We told you to stay out,â you explained, your voice calm.Â
Lando just scoffed and rolled his eyes. âWhatever,â then walked off to go brood somewhere else.Â
âShitty weather, eh?â you mused.
âAwful,â he nodded.Â
âIs that sweat or rain?â you asked, feeling how wet he truly was.Â
âBoth,â he sighed. He knew there were about forty cameras on the two of you. Moments between you two that the public saw were few and far between. You liked it that way. He liked it that way. Privacy was something he essentially gave up when he became a public figure, but that didnât mean you had to. âHowâs Lando doing?â
âHeâs just pissed away his chance at World Champion,â you took a deep breath, leaning into him. âAnd Iâll be the one he screams at during the end of the race. Iâll be the one having to explain it to Zak, and I wonât get home until probably tomorrow. And my dad is staring at us.â
Oscar groaned. âFucking hate dealing with this shit.âÂ
You nodded. âMe too. But at least thereâs no race for two weeks.âÂ
âWeâre off to Melbourne,â he reminded you. âHave to do the family rounds, since weâre engaged,â he beamed. Over the last break, Oscar had proposed. It was the happiest moment of your lives (closely followed by Oscarâs win in Baku), and now you were on your way to visit his extended family for the first time. Since heâd met most of your family (especially considering Ted Kravitz was your father and Oscar met him before he met you), it was only fair that you make the trip and meet his.
Before that though, you had to get through today.Â
âYouâd better go chat with your engineers,â you took your hands off his. âZak is giving me dirty looks.â
He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. âI donât want to.âÂ
You chuckled. âGo,â you urged him. âIf you get higher than p9 Iâll give you a kiss at the end of the race.â
âGood deal,â he pondered. âOr I could just kiss you now,â and with that, he pressed his lips to yours quickly, before running off to his side of the garage.Â
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Lando was an idiot, but he was Oscar's idiot, so you didn't kill him. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone slipped up, whether it be your dad, you, or Oscar. You didn't suspect it would be Lando, though. You did enjoy watching Oscar shout at him though. That was pretty funny.
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x you#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one#mclaren#oscar piastri x fem!reader#f1 fluff#x reader#female reader#x reader insert#reader insert#x reader fic#x reader fluff#x reader fanfiction#fem reader#gn reader#f1#f1 smau#f1 imagines#f1 x you#requests#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction
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Buttercup
~7.8k words
From me: I love a knight in shining armor moment. Grumpy sunshine, black cat and golden retriever kind of vibe. There are definitely some details missing on purpose here. Best of luck. Hope you like it đ Sorry for the delay in posting. What a week.
Warnings: dick ex-bf - cheating, emotional trauma, threatening. Angry Harry, neighbor Harry, some mentions of sex, a good bit of angst, and some fluff.
Summary: Harry's new neighbor is fun to prank. She just wants to tend to her garden and enjoy her chocolate in peace.
But it's... comforting to know Harry is right next door.
The boys that lived next door werenât too loud, werenât super messy, and they were easy on the eyes.
But that was the furthest she could compliment them.
Well, Louis was really lovely overall. He had a girlfriend that came by frequently (almost daily) and appeared to keep him in check. But there was no one to keep Harry in check. He walked around his yard in his boxers, got the mail in them even, and both greeted his sexual partner(s) then sent her on her way off his property the following morning in nothing but boxers as well.
All with a smug smile in her direction while he wore nothing but underwear and the ink etched on his unbelievably smooth skin.
Stupid hot people.
Regardless of what he was doing, he was always sure to irritate her if she was outside. âHi Buttercup,â he cooed like they were old friends while she worked in her garden. It was clearly her favorite part of the house. It desperately needed a new coat of paint, and she didnât care in the slightest. The flowers were more important, and she did a good job. Clearing the flowerbeds happened before all her boxes were officially inside her house.
She thought about the day she arrived.
When she moved in, she took a deep breath, pulled her hair into a ponytail and tugged it through the back of a baseball cap. One by one, she pulled a box out of her car and brought it inside. A storage pod was dropped in the driveway as well and then she began the same process after taking a short break while she looked at what she needed to do first. She leaned against her car and felt anxiety and a serious case of being overwhelmed start to fill her chest. She took deep breaths hoping the sugar she ingested would help ease her worried mind.
âHey, neighbor!â She turned to the voice where a guy with brown hair and blue eyes smiled brightly at her. âIâm Louis, welcome to our neighborhood. Itâs nice to meet you. Need help?â
She shook her head quickly. Almost defensive as she aimed to protect herself. âNo, Iâm alright, thank you.â
Louis glanced at her storage pod and tilted his head at her curiously. It was a lot to unpack on her own.
Metaphorically and literally.
âYouâre sure?â He asked. âMy roommate saw you from the window. Thought you were... well, not struggling... But itâs a lot to move for anyone. Heâs changing, heâll be right out to help too,â he explained and rubbed the back of his head. âMy girlfriend was on the phone and overheard Harry, and she insisted as well.â
She thought that he was nice. A friendly neighbor if there ever was one. But the wall of anxiety she put up and the nerve she was feigning to keep up was battling something fierce. âRight,â she cleared her throat. She would need an ally. There was no one in this new town for her and Louis seemed nice.
Levi seemed nice too... she thought.
Shaking her head she tried to rid herself of the negative outlook. Louis wasnât Levi. âThat... thatâs really nice. Thank you. If youâre sure.â
Louisâ best friend and roommate Harry soon joined them. Introduced himself and she sincerely thought they were just two nice guys who would be decent neighbors.
The second they dropped the first load of her stuff safely inside Harry began his pranks. âIs this box labeled underwear up for grabs?â
There was no box labeled underwear. She knew that. But it still made her cheeks burn with embarrassment even though Louis rolled his eyes as if was used to it. Which she supposed he was. âChrist, Harry,â Louis sighed and pinched between his eyes. âIâm sorry, love. We donât let him out of the house much.â
She looked at him with an eye roll. He was cute. She would give him that.
Well, hot.
Enticing green eyes, sinewy muscles, and a smile so bright it could put the sun to shame. He knew he was hot. There was no way he didnât. But she wasnât going to let him get to her.
âWhere are yâmoving from?â Harry asked.
âUh...â she shook her head trying to remember what lie she was supposed to say. But then went with most of the truth. âJust upstate, a few hours away. I got a new job and whatnot.â
âNew modeling job?â
âBoo...â Louis droned, grumbling as he moved boxes labeled kitchen into the correct room. âIf youâre going to embarrass yourself, you could use better material.â
âThis is mâbest material, Lou,â he scowled at his friend. Her cheeks were still burning at his shameless flirting.
âI know heâs obnoxious, but heâs harmless,â Louis rolled his eyes.
âExcuse you, Louis. Mânot obnoxious.â
âThe shit you say,â he shook his head.
âI jusâ think youâre gorgeous,â his eyelashes did all the flirting for him when his words stopped.
But whether Harry was flirting or not, she didnât want to flirt with her neighbor. Didnât want to have a boyfriend. Certainly not one with all the charisma he had around her.
Even if he was flirty and charming.
And hot.
There was no denying how hot Harry was.
So she would have to be careful.
*
âLooking good, Buttercup.â
She glared at the tulip bulbs she was planting in front of her door for the spring. She adjusted the planters of mums placed on the porch steps. A variety of gold, orange, brown and red. Perfect for fall and the idyllic picture for a magazine cover. There were pumpkins on the side of the bottom step greeting anyone at her home with the pretty festive colors. A cute scarecrow was staked among fake corn stalks and hay beside the pumpkins.
It was unseasonably warm for November but for the last two months, and even though Harry drove her crazy, she wanted to be outside enjoying the sunshine and fresh air while she could. She had listened to Harryâs flirting with her since the moment she moved in. He was blatant about it. But in the same timeframe, she watched him with women coming and going. Of course, it didnât bother her one bit who he spent his time with; that was his choice, and he had no obligation to her or the women he took home as long as he wasnât a complete douchebag to them.
But Harry always seemed to be there. He was there when she got her mail. There when she got home from work. There when she was going to work. It didnât matter. Didnât he have to work? âAre businesses too intelligent to hire you?â
âNo?â He chuckled phrasing it as a question.
âJust assumed, since youâre never at work.â
He snorted. âFunny.â She continued tending to her flowers. âI work from home.â
Perfect. So he would continue to always be there. Some people had all the luck.
He wasnât in his boxers for a change. An interesting change of pace. He was in a pair of plain jogging pants and a plain T-shirt, yet he was the one that looked like a model for Nike.
Men had it so easy being attractive. A pair of workout pants and a T-shirt that outlined his pectorals way too tightly was all it took to get her flustered.
He sat beside her and watched her work. âYâshould do our garden, next Buttercup. Looks so nice the way yâput everything together.â
She paused and stared at him. His eyes roamed her little planters and across the weedless yard. He smiled at her as his gaze returned to hers. âYouâre making fun of me,â she scowled.
âKitten,â he pressed a hand over his heart, looking affronted. âI would never make fun of you.â
She looked back at the dirt that was under her nails. She focused on the feeling of it rather than the feeling of dread she felt around Harry. He was so confident in himself and in everything he did. It was annoying. His stupid green eyes and his dumb smile. She couldnât fall for it again. No matter how sincere he sounded.
âYâlook really pretty in yâgarden,â his voice was gentle. Like he was worried she was going to throw something at him. She had considered it. Her trowel seemed like it could do some damage. But she was trying not to be completely ridiculous just because Harry was a pain.
And sickening.
And irritating.
And cute.
Fortunately, she had a list of things to remind herself of that he was a nuisance. Not to mention there were his pranks that made her crazy.
He sprayed her with the hose when she wasnât looking. Sent mail to her house for porn addiction making the mailman look at her with a smirk before she screamed at Harry (which didnât help the look the mailman was giving her). At the beginning of October, he put a Halloween mask outside her window to scare her when she woke up so terrifyingly that Louis and Eleanor rushed over in their pajamas. While nothing was irreparable or worth putting her into therapy, the jokes made her mad because Harry always made her mad. He was too good looking and too there all the time.
Instead, she continued weeding and planting. Making the previously bare flower beds green and brown with freshly overturned dirt. It was calming. Being in the garden, the yard. Dirt on her hands and the sun on her back.
âCat got your tongue, Buttercup?â He joked.
âI have nothing to say to you.â
âThe more yâignore me, kitten, jusâ makes me want yâmore.â
âI wouldnât touch you with a ten-foot pole.â
âUgh, will you marry me?â
âYouâre so ridiculous, Harry.â
âGod, yâdrive me wild.â
She continued digging in the dirt. âIf youâre going to sit there and be annoying, can you at least be useful and hand me the watering can?â
Harry silently grabbed the can and poured the water into the hole, watching her carefully. âI used tâgarden with mâMum.â
âYou didnât just spawn from the ground climbing out of hell?â
Harry chuckled quietly. âNo, mâmumâs a saint,â he said with a smile. The fondness in his voice and reverence for her made her heart skip a beat. He was so annoying but that was undoubtedly beyond sweet. Even if it was Harry saying it.
âSorry, I didnât mean to insult your mother.â
âYâdidnât. I know what yâmeant,â he chuckled. âMum would like you,â he told her. Which absolutely terrified her because mothers often did. It made things more complicated. Like it had in the past.
âShe would like me? Iâm an absolute bitch to you, Harry.â
âHey,â he frowned. âDonât say that,â the sincerity in his voice continued making her throat catch on any rebuttal she wanted to say in return. The pucker of skin between his eyebrows made her want to reach out and smooth his skin. His frown made her sad too. Before she could push the feeling away, he spoke again. âYouâre funny. Stubborn. Adorable. Mum would like that yâkeep me grounded,â he complimented.
âKeeping you grounded is the nice way of saying bitchy.â
He sighed, irritation practically rolling off him in waves. That was new. âSeriously, kitten. Knock it off,â he shook his head disappointedly.
She blinked, surprised by the genuine tone. âYouâre serious?â
âJusâ because yâsay it âbout yourself doesnât make it better.â
For a whole minute she seriously thought about how easy it would be to fall for Harry. He was handsome, intelligent, kind, and funny. Even if he was obnoxious. Louis and Eleanor kept him around for a reason, right? For Godâs sake he wouldnât let her call herself a bitch. Who did that?! âUm... sorry?â
âApology not accepted. Youâll have tâgo on a date with me. Sâthe only way tâmake it up tâme.â
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bulbs she was planting. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âAlright fine; Iâll jusâ have tâthink of something else,â he sighed, pausing, like he was really thinking about how she could make it up to him.
Then he smeared a clod of cold, wet dirt across her cheek.
She spluttered trying to avoid dirt in her mouth and reached out to smack him. However, he was nearly giggling, practically running back to his house before she could register what really happened and retaliate. âSee yâlater, Buttercup!â He called.
*
One of Harryâs ongoing pranks involved slipping his phone number into her contacts early on when he met her. It happened shortly after she moved in, and it allowed him to send her memes and inappropriate messages (not the kind of unsolicited messages that only complete dicks sent to women who did not want them) but the ones that he found on the internet. Inappropriate jokes. Innuendos.
But he also texted her when he was heading to the grocery store to see if she needed anything. But in the time that they exchanged messages, she never started the conversations. It was always a Leave me alone Harry. No thank you. Can you stop staring out the window like a creep? If she needed something she asked Louis, which honestly upset him to a degree, but he understood. Harry came on strong when he met her. Not that he would change that, but it wasnât unreasonable of her to feel standoffish to him.
God, was she beautiful. Harry loved seeing her in the yard. Made it a point to drop everything he was doing and go get a closer look. He was drawn to her. Moth to a flame. The whole bit. She was so funny, even when she was grumpy. He wasnât joking when he told her that her ignoring him made him want her more.
She was a hard worker and left early in the morning and returned well into dinner time. While the weather was nice, she would sit on her porch and read or work tirelessly on her perfect garden. She was lovely. Harry could see it from afar and he was bummed she didnât catch on to his shameless flirting the way he had hoped when he first saw her.
One of these days Iâd like you to text me instead of Louis when you need something. Louis already has a girlfriend.
From the looks of it you have PLENTY of options for a girlfriend.
Jealous?
Of getting a disease? No. Iâm good.
Your green thumb is spreading, Buttercup. Itâs not your color.
You can ignore me all you want. Just think about it. It doesnât have to be a thing. I just want you to know Iâm happy to help you if you need it. Not just Louis.
Also, Iâm clean in case you ever want to explore that side of things too đ
Surprisingly, she ignored that message too.
*
Harry felt like he was going through withdrawals from her. He hadnât even seen her in the yard. Between the rain and their work schedules, it was like he couldnât get a glimpse of her pretty being tending to the weeds, reading her book, or anything. His joke asking her what she plays with at night that also vibrates went unanswered.
Maybe he should have stopped sending her inappropriate jokes, but the fact she hadnât blocked him gave him the shred of hope he desperately wanted. Maybe if she had blocked him it would get through his head that she was out of his league, and she wasnât interested.
Iâm heading home to shower, change, and then Iâll come grab you. It was Niall though, and not her reply to his joke.
Harry put cologne on and settled in the living room quietly scrolling through his social media looking at the time stamp from his message, almost a whole day ago. Frowning, he returned to scrolling and waiting for Niall. Not thinking much of anything of merit as he did.
But then that little notification slid from the top of his phone making his heart bounce with excitement.
Harry, are you home?
Is it finally happening?! đ
There was no response and Harry thought he ruined their moment. Even if he believed her when she said they would never sleep together, he was glad she was talking to him. He was worried his latest prank had gone too far.
Harryâs car was in the garage, and he had almost every light off since he was leaving soon, so it was a fair question since she couldnât see the back of his house where he was hiding in his room.
I was kidding, Buttercup. Iâm home. You could have just come over to ask though.
There was still no response, but he kept his phone in hand waiting and holding his breath. Hoping something would come through from her again.
Pick some flowers from my yard.
Come knock on the door like weâre supposed to be going on a date.
Please.
And hurry.
Please.
What?
...?
Kitten...whatâs wrong?
He tried calling her immediately, but it went right to voicemail, like she had turned her phone off after sending her last message.
What the hell. Why arenât you answering your phone?
This isnât funny, Buttercup...
Youâre making me nervous.
If this was a retaliation prank it went way too far. Way further than putting the mini popping firecrackers under her tires before she left for work. The very one that got her so mad, he thought she was going to call the cops finally. The one that made her ignore him for days on end despite the messages he sent.
But this wasnât funny. Not even a little. Her safety and security werenât things Harry liked to joke about because despite everything, he was possessive about her. And frankly, he adored her. Even if she wasnât his to obsess over nor adore.
But he wasnât going to ignore her any longer than he had to. He nearly sprinted out the door, swiping randomly at her pretty flowers and feeling horrible that he was pulling her precious plants after all the hard work she put into them. It seemed silly to spend time doing this, but he didnât want to fuck up what she asked him to do. Not when her messages seemed so worrisome. Not when she didnât answer. With a fresh bouquet in hand, he hurried to the front door. Fortunately, he was dressed for a night out. Niall would be on his way to pick him up; so, he was, in theory, date ready. But the thought of being with Niall and not home when she needed him terrified him further. Thank God he was home.
Harry had no idea what was on the other side of her door, but it was embarrassingly late in the moment that he realized there was a car in the driveway he hadnât seen before. At once he realized she never had company. Which only made him even more anxious.
Swallowing, he knocked firmly.
The door flew open within ten seconds of his knock. The relief in her eyes made Harry feel sick. What was she so nervous about? What could make her that nervous, that seeing him made her at ease? She was constantly irritated by his presence. The moment only made him feel worse. âHarry, right on time,â she smiled sweetly. She was a good actress. If she hadnât texted Harry so urgently, he wouldnât be looking for signs of trouble, wouldnât see the relief in her eyes, and he would have no idea that something was wrong.
âHi kitten, donât yâlook beautiful,â he cooed leaning down to press a kiss to her cheekbone as if he had done it a thousand times before. Gratefully, he had imagined it about a thousand times, so it probably looked as natural as it felt. Plus, she was beautiful. Always. The acting came naturally to him as well. His arm wrapped around her waist in the same movement instinctively. His eyes fell to the man standing a few feet back watching her like a hawk. His gaze was territorial and possessive; Harry didnât care for that at all. Even if she wasnât Harryâs, she definitely wasnât his either.
But Harry was possessive, and he was there because she asked him to be there. Something he got the feeling the other man did not have permission for. He knew he shouldnât have felt possessive of her, but he would pretend all the same if it meant the worry in her eyes would go away.
He handed her the bouquet he plucked only moments before and threaded their fingers together; another movement that felt like he had done before and not for the very first time that second. âLetâs get a vase,â he suggested and kept his eyes on him. It wasnât lost on him how easily her fingers fit between his, the way their palms touched, or how her grip tightened ever so slightly when she settled her grip in his. âHey,â he nodded his head in greeting.
The guy ignored Harry. His eyes glaring at the pretty girl beside him. âYouâre seriously telling me youâve been dating this guy since the moment you moved in?â
Her cheeks burned red, and Harry kissed the top of her head tucking her toward his chest protectively. Harry didnât care for it at all. If the anxiety in her texts, expressions, and body language wasnât enough evidence, then the way she leaned further into his chest despite everything and how annoyed she was by him, certainly was. âMâHarry,â his voice was firm. Pointed. âAnd you are?â
He grunted, shook his head. âThe fuck, babe?â He snapped. She didnât respond, simply glanced up to meet Harryâs gaze. She blinked unsurely at Harry, unable to find her next move. Harry nudged her gently toward the kitchen.
âDo yâhave a name or what?â Harry grumbled over his shoulder as he made a show of caressing her while she found a vase. Her hands were shaking slightly as she placed the vase in the sink. Fortunately, Harry saw it immediately and tugged the glass from her grip, pulling her hand back in his. Even if it was impractical and stupid looking while he placed the vase with one hand in her sink to finish what she was doing.
âLevi,â he snapped. âWe apparently used to date.â
Harry felt her body deflate. He wondered why. Was it the prospect of dating this asshole? Was it the phrase used to? What happened before he got here?
âWell, Levi, glad weâre on the same page and youâre using the past tense. Mâhere tâtake my girlfriend on a date,â he pressed his body around hers, bracketing her body against the sink. She kept her eyes down, away from Leviâs gaze. Her body felt so warm against his it made him wish this wasnât for show. Instead, he bent down to kiss the crook of her neck and shoulder hoping she wouldnât hate him later over it.
He was really into pretending. She squeezed his hands that were wrapped around hers against the edge of counter. Was that a thanks? Was that a sigh he imagined when he kissed her skin? God, she smelled good.
âMânot sure exactly whatâs going on here, but mâgetting a good sense that she doesnât want yâhere. So maybe sâa good time tâgo before I have tâescort yâout of the house.â
He snorted and shook his head. He glared at Harry as he spoke, but her eyes were still cast down toward the sink. âI donât know what the fuck youâre playing at, babe. You can try and fool me all you want. But Iâm not stupid. Iâll come back when your boyfriend isnât around,â he left the kitchen and slammed her front door shut as he exited. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Begrudgingly, he left her by the sink and went to the front door, peering out the small window right next to the frame. He watched while Levi pulled out of her driveway and down the road. Harry stood and watched, waiting for the sound of his car to completely disappear before he felt he wasnât coming back any time soon. Harry locked her deadbolt.
âWho was thatââ He started as he turned back for the kitchen, but his heart practically broke at the sight of his stubborn, fearless, and utterly pretty neighbor teary eyed and shaken to the core. She left the kitchen near silently it seemed but stopped in the hall right before the entryway of the front door. He didnât even hear her approach. âHey,â he cooed coming closer. âButtercup,â he frowned when she didnât respond to her nickname. âHey,â it was like he was approaching a wounded, wild animal. He didnât want to scare her, but God did he want to protect her. God, did he want to hold her again. âLove, heâs gone. Iââ He wanted to reach out for her and pull her into his embrace again, but something about her looked off. The anxiety written all over her face made him nervous and sad.
He zoned in on her hands; they were shaking by her sides worse than the way she held the vase. Her eyes were so fucking sad looking Harry wanted to scream. âKitten,â he tried again. âCan I...?â He reached for her again. âMânot going to...â all his sentences were half finished as he tried to figure out why the fuck Levi scared her so badly. All he wanted was to comfort her. She was too sweet and pretty to look so terrified. When she never looked scared of anything. âButtercup,â he murmured again.
She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. âIâm fine,â but her voice was barely audible over the sound of it getting caught around the emotion in her throat.
âHey, sâokay tânot be okay. Mâhere,â he promised holding his hands out to her. âCan I touch you?â He asked. She shook her head quickly. It hurt like hell for her to say no. Harry thought he was seriously going to cry. âOkay, okay,â he stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didnât trust himself not to try and comfort her and the last thing that he ever wanted to do was break her trust and consent. âBaby, youâre breaking my heart,â he pouted and watched as she was starting to shake like she was in the middle of a blizzard without a coat. âCome sit,â he begged. âPlease.â
She obeyed and Harry went to her kitchen and found a glass in the cabinet as if this was his own house. He got water from the dispenser on her fridge, and he brought it to her. Her hands were still shaking violently, and her tears were flowing but not a sound other than a quiet sniffle left her. âHere, Buttercup,â he mumbled.
She sniveled and wiped her eyes as she took the cup from him. He avoided brushing her fingers with his and he paced in front of the coffee table. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he caught sight of the time. âFuck,â he muttered. Pressing the phone to his ear he glanced out the window. âSorry Niall. Canât come out,â he ran a hand on the back of his head. She perked up at his words.
âHarry,â she whispered.
âNo... I donât know.... I just need tâbe here for her,â he mumbled.
âHarry, you donâtââ
He silenced her with a look while her words died in her throat with another little whimper. Being vulnerable was hard for her. Obviously. Harry wondered if she knew how difficult it was for him to watch her look so upset and scared and not comfort her. If he knew letting go of her in the kitchen meant he wouldnât get to touch her again, he wouldnât have let go to start.
He hung up without hearing Niallâs response and he put his phone in his back pocket.
âIf you have plansââ
âI donât,â he interrupted shaking his head quickly. âJusâ a date with a pretty girl,â he sat across from her on the coffee table making sure that not even his knee bumped against her. His eyes were following her every breath. Every tiny movement and flinch. The nervousness he felt was painful. Waiting for something to make sense. The water in her glass rippled and practically splashed over the side from how hard she was shaking. Harry wanted nothing more than to take it from her grip. But instead, he patiently waited until she sipped it.
âIâm okay,â her voice was nothing more than air. Even if it wasnât, Harry wouldnât believe her.
âBaby,â he frowned. âNo one sends a message like that if theyâre not worried about their safety. Iâm worried âbout your safety. So donât pretend tâbe okay if youâre not. Iâll stay all night, sitting right here, and stare at you.â
She snorted. âThat sounds like watching paint dry.â
He shrugged. âYouâre far more interesting and prettier than paint drying.â
She swiped at her eyes again looking at her lap. âHe cheated on me.â
âWhat a fucking moron,â he mumbled and tilted his head at the ceiling. Harry would never understand how the luckiest men in the world treated lovely, beautiful girls like her as if they were nothing. âHe wants yâback?â
She shrugged, shook her head, and nodded. âI donât know.â
âDo you want him back?â
She whimpered and shook her head. Squeezing her eyes shut so tight, he worried she was going to split open her lids. âGod, no,â she whispered.
Harry sighed, rubbed his palms on his thighs. âCan yâtalk tâme, kitten? Mânot leaving unless yâtell me to. Do yâwant me tâleave?â It would kill him. Sincerely, truly kill him. But if she didnât want him there, he would go.
âI canât,â she was sobbing. It was killing him. It hurt so much not to hold her and comfort her.
âOkay, okay. Iâll... Iâll jusâ... go back tâmy house... Yeah? If yâneed something, jusâ...â he rubbed a hand over his face feeling like he was walking on a bed of glass saying the words. âCall, text, throw rocks at mâwindow,â he stood, mindful to not bump her knee. He smiled weakly at his own joke. It wasnât returned. He didnât know what to do or say. He didnât know how to help the sweet, lovely girl. The smile fell from his lips when she didnât respond. âJusâ... lock the door behind me, Buttercup, yeah?â
It felt like he was walking toward his death, but he left her living room and waited until he heard her deadbolt lock before he descended her porch steps.
*
She dropped the glass of water Harry gave her in the kitchen after she let Harry leave. It shattered into a million microscopic pieces and the flowers from her garden looked so unbelievably pretty she wished Harry really was taking her on a date.
She covered her mouth around another broken sob. Her eyes felt red and raw, and the pressure of her sinuses and the front of her forehead ached beyond words. She was safe. She was okay. But her chest hurt.
Levi was gone. Harry came to her rescue. After she was mean and grumpy toward him. Trying to protect her heart after it hurt six ways to Sunday because of the man that let himself into her home without permission. Harry didnât even try to touch her without permission. She could tell he wanted to. Hell, she wanted him to... but everything hurt, and she was just so scared.
Maybe it was too late. But she needed him. Really needed Harry to hold her and comfort her. Her mind ran rampant with thoughts of how lovely it was to be held by him. The kiss on her skin. He was warm and solid. Safe. Thatâs what she wanted. To feel safe. Her heart ached with want.
Immediately after the thought of his warm solid body around hers, she raced out of the kitchen and unlocked her door. She was ready to fly down the steps of her porch, cross her yard and his hoping he would have the door open before she even arrived.
But Harry was already there; at the bottom of the third and final step of her porch.
He never even left.
Harry stood and turned as soon as he heard the deadbolt open, standing only seconds before she was ready to blow right past him. âOh, thank God,â he whispered to himself.
Without any more pause, she was in his embrace. Her arms around his neck and she sobbed openly into his shoulder. His hands felt so big and safe on her body, just as she predicted.
He hummed something into her hair. Something like âMâhere,â in his gravelly, pretty voice. âI have you,â he soothed. âOh kitten, mâso sorry,â his voice sounded like he wanted to cry as much as she was. Poor Harry. He didnât deserve to feel so sad. Not because of her and her messed up life. âCâmon, Buttercup,â he scooped behind her knees and cradled her as he carried her back inside to her sofa, locking the door behind them as he entered.
âDonât leave me, please,â she begged, sniffling into his shirt.
âNever, baby. Never, ever, ever,â he promised rubbing her back. âNot unless yâask.â
Her lower lip wobbled. âBut I will ask,â she sniffed. âBecause Iâm too much. Iâm sad, scared, broken, and damaged.â
âYânot any of those things, kitten. Certainly not damaged, Buttercup.â
âBut I am,â she whimpered. âYou have no idea. He messed me up so bad... and I... I donât,â she choked. âI pushed you away already.â
It wasnât much, but the little bit she opened up her heart to him meant the world to him. It was almost as good as holding her. But nothing could replace that feeling now that he had it. He stroked her face with the back of his hand. âI wasnât far,â he shrugged.
He didnât even leave her porch. Was he going to stay out there all night? Her heart felt achy, and her eyes were already raw with tears but if they werenât she would have cried at the thought of her obnoxious neighbor sleeping on the bottom step of her porch in the cold all because she was broken.
âYou just wanted to help, and touch and hold me, and I wouldnât let youââ
âKitten,â he said sternly. He cupped below her jaw and stared right into her pupils like he was speaking directly to her soul. âLetâs get one thing very clear. I will never touch you without permission. No one has any right tâtouch you unless yâask.â
A sob escaped her throat and then she buried her face against his chest. His body was so broad and warm. She imagined if they were without heat or power, she would still be warm. âBut I want you to touch me. All the time. Every second Iâm around you,â there was no use denying it. Not when she couldnât lift her face from his shirt.
Harry sighed with relief. âWell good,â he squeezed her affectionately. âBaby,â he stroked his thumb below her eye. âWhat happened?â
She shivered and Harry pulled the blanket that was on the back of her sofa over them. Her personality was huge and beautiful. She invaded Harryâs every thought. In the same room, she was in every air particle. Outside in her garden she was every little piece of dirt, petal, stem, root and all. She was larger than life.
It killed him she felt so small in his arms.
âI knew he was cheating, and he didnât want me to leave,â she sniffed. Harry nodded, his teeth ground together. His jaw tensed. Waiting for her to continue. âHe said I was overreacting. Our relationship was stale, and we just needed something to spice things up.â
She turned her face to his shirt and Harry cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding and massaging his fingertips against the back of her skull. âHeâs an idiot, Buttercup. A stupid, idiotic, horrible excuse for a man,â he grumbled.
She swallowed and didnât say anything for a few moments. Harry holding her felt like medicine was sinking into her skin and directly into her bloodstream. Harry didnât force her to speak. He didnât ask questions. He just held her. She was sure he wanted to know more. Wanted to know all the gritty details that resulted in her moving in the middle of the night and finding this house next to his.
But there was only one thing she could think about.
âWhy do you call me Buttercup?â She whispered.
Harry didnât answer for several seconds. His free hand was on the small of her back, pressing gently to get her frame even closer to his. âCan I kiss right here?â He asked ignoring her question. He brushed his thumb along her temple. She nodded and Harry followed the brush of his thumb with his lips.
âThatâs nice,â she murmured.
He chuckled. âJusâ wait âtil yâget a real kiss,â he promised. âGonna make yâfall in love with me.â
She didnât want to tell him she already had because that seemed ridiculous. So ridiculous it made her a little breathless. âThat good hmm?â She hummed.
âNever had a complaint.â
âThatâs obvious,â she smirked.
He rolled his eyes. âI didnât sleep with all of them.â
âNot my business.â
âBut it is... Mâa gentleman first, kitten. Mum taught me well. I just like tâmake mâdate feel good,â he explained. âDoesnât always include... yâknow,â he shrugged one shoulder. âI know I drove yâcrazy walking them out in mâboxers.â
âNo, you didnât,â she lied.
He chuckled. âSâokay tâadmit it, kitten; donât know what I would have done if yâhad someone over and flaunted a date in jusâ your underwear.â
âYou were trying to make me jealous?â
âI didnât think yâwere that stubborn.â
She wasnât sure if Harry was avoiding her question or trying to distract her, but she still wanted an answer. âWhy?â She asked quietly again.
âWhy what?â
âWhy do you call me buttercup?â
He sighed, kissed her temple again turning her insides warm and mushy. He didnât speak for a few seconds like he didnât really want to tell her. âYâwere eating a peanut buttercup,â he mumbled. âWhen yâmoved in. Yâhave wrappers all over the floor of yâcar. On Halloween, yâdidnât pass out any of them, but I saw them in the grocery bags I carried in for you one time.â
She bit her lip wondering how she didnât put it together. It was incredible he noticed that. âTheyâre my favorite,â her voice no more than air once more.
âAnd youâre mine,â he assured her, cupping the side of her face. âMânot going tâlet him hurt you. Iâll break every bone in his body and mine if I have to.â
She blushed. âYou donât have toââ
âButtercup, mânot joking,â he said cutting off her protest. âYâdonât have tâbe scared because mânever going tâlet him get close tâyou ever again,â he promised.
âHe just said he was going to... wait until you leave, Harry. You canât promise that.â
âGuess I wonât leave. Or youâll have tâcome home with me.â
âHarry,â she croaked.
âKitten, mânot messing around with yâsafety,â he reminded her. âI can stay here on the couch and yâcan stay in your bed. It doesnât have tâbe a thing. Mâstaying tâkeep yâsafe. Donât read into it if yâdonât want to.â
But she wanted to read into it. God, did she want to. Harry dropped everything the moment she texted him from the bathroom in a panic. He was only next door. Didnât she want to believe all his pranks were his way of flirting? Didnât she want to believe he liked her more than just annoying her?
She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. He didnât deserve a mess. He deserved one of the effortlessly beautiful girls that he brought home. The kind that knew how to curl their own hair and where to draw the contour lines when they did their makeup. âYou donât have to stay,â she shook her head.
âKitten,â he tutted.
âNo seriouslyââ
âYouâre deflecting, baby.â
âIâm justââ
âButtercup,â Harryâs hands felt so warm and perfect against her skin. He brought his other hand to her bare cheek. It looked like he was trying not to cry himself when she met his gaze. âYou just told me yâwould try tâpush me away. I donât want tâgo. But I will. Iâll sleep on your porch if yâwant me too,â he offered. âPlease,â he whispered quietly. Gently, like he was worried he was going to scare her. âDonât ask me tâleave you.â
There was a long pause. âStay,â she murmured into his hand. Because she was too exhausted and scared to tell him to leave. Pressing her lips against his palm, she met his gaze and watched the hope bloom in his eyes with just one little word. âPlease... please stay.â
Harry sighed with relief, pulling her tightly toward him and nodding. âCourse, Buttercup. Of course.â
*
It had become routine. She arrived home from work, and there was Harry. Sitting on the bottom step of her porch. He waited for her while she gathered her belongings from her car. His smile was so stunning. Like a streetlight on a dark road. Bright, beautiful, and all for her. âHey Buttercup,â he hummed as she approached. He stood and pulled the bag off her shoulder and carried it for her. It wasnât even heavy. In the same movement, he pecked her cheek and pressed a hand to her lower back like he had done for the last six weeks since he started seeing her exclusively. Not a single girl with perfectly curled hair had been his driveway. No one with expertly contoured makeup. Harry stopped walking around his yard in his boxers (but now she wished he did it more). As he guided her toward the front door, he continued grinning like an idiot. âDid your day get better after lunch, kitten?â
She nodded, his encouraging text sent at lunchtime was meant to ease the frustration he could sense through her messages. It wasnât lost on him that as much as he used to enjoy her frustration, he wanted nothing more than to ease it now. âM-hmm,â she smiled at him. âYou?â
âBetter now that youâre home.â
She rolled her eyes at him because while he stopped pranking her so much, he replaced it with the cheesiest thoughts and lines known to man. But there was no denying how it made her heart flutter. âDid you want to go out to eat?â She asked.
He shrugged, then nodded. âWe can if yâwant.â
âI donât really feel like cooking.â
âMe either.â
âLet me change and weâll go.â Harry was looking at her strangely. The kind of face he made when he pulled pranks on her before he officially swept her off her feet. Maybe she was wrong, and the pranks were coming back.
Maybe there were those mini firecrackers under her toilet seat. âWhat?â
âNothing, jusâ... think yâlook pretty,â his smile was too devilish (and handsome). He knew what he was doing. she shook her head and snorted. But Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink at the compliment. He watched her head to her bedroom. When she stopped in the doorway, his smile bloomed. Her pause to look at her room as if it wasnât hers made his heart skip a beat. âSâmatter, Buttercup?â
âThere are like a hundred peanut butter cups on my bed,â she told him. Like he didnât already know. Orange wrappers lined up in the shape of a heart along her bed spread.
â107, actually,â She turned to look at him. He shrugged. âIt would have 110, but I needed a snack.â
She wanted to smile. But her heart was beating fast, her emotions overwhelming her. She bit the inside of her lip. âWhy?â
âYâsaid yâwere having a bad day.â
Her lip felt raw from biting it, behind her eyes prickled with tears. âOh.â
âSânice? Yeah?â He wondered and made his way to her, putting his hand on her lower back. He kissed her temple. âKitten?â She nodded and turned her head toward him, hiding her face against his shoulder and trying to quell the emotion that was threatening to come out of her. âHey, sâwrong, Buttercup?â He frowned. âDo yâwant tâorder take away instead?â He rubbed her arm soothingly.
She shook her head, then nodded, followed by a shrug. âI donât know,â she sniffed.
âAw, baby, donât cry,â he hummed. âSâokay,â he reassured her. He didnât even know why she needed reassurance. âSâjusâ some candy.â She sniffled again and Harry kissed the top of her hair. âMâgonna make sure yâfeel good all the time, Buttercup,â he promised.
Her chest felt so overwhelmingly warm and achy in the best way. She nodded against him wishing she could tuck herself further into his strong body where she felt like nothing bad could happen. The change in relationship was a lot to absorb. But it was easy in a lot of ways. Harry was sweeter than she ever imagined he could be. Or maybe she was biased now that she got kisses, and he held her like she was the most precious thing he had ever touched. It killed her in hindsight how standoffish she had been to him. The thought of ignoring him made her feel sick to her stomach.
âI think you really will,â she mumbled into his shirt. He chuckled, kissed the top of her head. âThank you, Harry,â she whispered.
âYânever have to thank me, kitten,â he shrugged. âSorry I was so annoying.â
âI suppose it worked,â she sniffed.
He chuckled. âI knew it would.â
âYou did not.â
âI did so,â he said petulantly. âOr I hoped it would.â
She rolled her eyes. âDonât know why you would want someone so mean.â
âJusâ makes me want yâmore,â he joked and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. âMâgonna kiss yânow, kitten,â his way of warning her and asking for permission. It hurt that he felt he had to ask. But Harry was nothing if not thorough and sure in asking for her consent.
âDonât ever stop,â she sighed dreamily.
He chuckled again and leaned in to follow his promise. âMâpleasure, Buttercup.â
--
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