#now that i think about it i think i was running on the middle of the street (in the forest) and kinda was in danger of dying cause of cars

[harrysfolklore]

but daddy i love him, part one - mv1

summary: in the world of formula 1, where competition runs deep and loyalties are tested, yn wolff and max verstappen found themselves caught in the middle . as the daughter of mercedes team principal and the rising red bull star, they must navigate the balance between rivalries and love. wc: 17k

folkie radio: HERE. IT. IS. FINALLY !!!!!!!! as i've stated before i'm absolutely terrified of posting this, this is my longest fic ever and different from what i've done before. i know it's a long read but i'm really proud of it and i think it's worth it. IN THIS FIC MORE THAN ANY OTHER. I ENCOURAGE YOU TO LEAVE FEEDBACK.

DISCLAIMER: as stated in the title THIS IS PART ONE!!! part two is ready in my drafts and will be posted shortly (in a week tops). i'll stop talking now. BUCKLE UP AND ENJOY (and please leave feedback okay)

Melbourne, 2015

The hotel lobby is quiet at this hour - that strange liminal space between late night and early morning when most reasonable people are asleep. But you've never been great at reasonable, and jet lag has your body clock completely scrambled.

That's how you end up in the hotel's deserted coffee shop at 1 AM, nursing a hot chocolate and trying to calm your nerves about tomorrow.

You're so lost in thought you don't notice someone else enter until they speak.

"They're still open?"

You look up and your heart skips. Of course you recognize him immediately - Max Verstappen, the 17-year-old prodigy your father hasn't stopped talking about for months. "The next big thing," Papa had said, watching testing footage. "He's going to shake up the whole paddock, just watch."

"Sort of," you gesture to your drink, trying to keep your voice casual. "The barista took pity on me. Said she'd make one last drink before closing."

He glances at the now-dark counter and sighs. Up close, he looks even younger than in the photos you've seen, but there's something in his eyes - a fierce determination that makes you understand why everyone's been talking about him.

"Here," you push your barely-touched hot chocolate towards him. "I'm not really drinking it anyway."

He hesitates. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Probably shouldn't have caffeine at this hour anyway."

He sits across from you, taking a careful sip. "Thanks. I'm Max."

I know, you think. Everyone knows. The youngest F1 driver in history, Jos Verstappen's son, the rookie everyone's watching.

"You're not from around here," you note his accent, playing along with the pretense that you don't know exactly who he is.

"Neither are you," he grins, and something warm flutters in your stomach. His smile transforms his whole face, makes him look his age.

"Fair point. Here for the Grand Prix?"

"You could say that." He studies you, and you wonder if he can hear your heart racing. "You?"

"Something like that." You're enjoying this little game more than you probably should.

"Cryptic."

You laugh. "Says the equally cryptic stranger."

"Okay, okay." He takes another sip. "I'm one of the new drivers. Toro Rosso."

You try to hide your smile. You've watched every clip of his testing sessions, heard every conversation your father has had about his potential. "Ah. The youngest F1 driver in history. That must be a lot of pressure."

He shrugs, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of expectations already heavy on him. You know that weight - you've carried your own version of it your whole life.

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Scared?"

"No," he answers too quickly, then sighs. "Maybe a little. You won't tell anyone I said that, right?"

There's something vulnerable in his admission that makes your heart ache. Behind all the hype and headlines, he's just a boy on the verge of something enormous.

"Your secret's safe with me." You lean back. "For what it's worth, I think you'll do great."

"You sound pretty confident for someone who just met me."

If only he knew how many hours you'd spent watching his karting videos. How many times you'd heard your father say "That Verstappen boy is going to change everything."

"Let's call it intuition."

He laughs - a genuine, unguarded sound that makes your pulse quicken. "You're different."

"Different good or different bad?"

"Just… different." He finishes the hot chocolate. "Most people, when they find out who I am, they either get weird about it or start asking about Jos."

"Your father?"

He nods, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes - the same shadow you sometimes get when people mention Toto.

"Well, I know a thing or two about father-related pressure, so…"

"Yeah?" He looks interested. "What does your father do?"

You check your watch, knowing it's time to end this little charade. "Oh wow, is that the time? I should probably head up."

"Wait," he stands as you do. "I didn't catch your name."

You pause at the door, turning back with a small smile, savoring what you know will be his reaction. "I'm YN Wolff."

His eyes widen. "Wolff? As in…"

"See you in the paddock, Max Verstappen."

You leave him standing there, but not before catching his surprised laugh. Your heart is racing as you walk away - from the deception, from his smile, from the way his eyes had lit up when he laughed.

The next morning, you spot him in the paddock. He does a double-take when he sees you with the Mercedes team, then grins and shakes his head. You're wearing your team kit now, no more pretending to be just another girl in a hotel coffee shop.

"Cryptic stranger," he mouths at you as he passes.

You just smile, trying to ignore how your stomach flips when he winks at you.

Neither of you could have known then - in that quiet hotel coffee shop at 1 AM - that this was the beginning of something that would change your lives.

Singapore, 2015

The paddock is eerily quiet now, the usual chaos of race day reduced to a whisper of distant maintenance and soft lighting. You're sitting on one of the team benches, the night air cool against your skin. Max is close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the line between friendship and something more feels increasingly blurred.

It wasn't a sudden thing, this connection with Max. It had been a slow burn, a gradual unraveling that began that night in the hotel coffee shop and grew through stolen moments between races, brief conversations in crowded paddocks, and late-night messages that became increasingly frequent.

At first, it was simple curiosity. You'd catch each other's eye across the paddock, exchange a knowing smile. Then came the texts - random observations about races, inside jokes about team dynamics, comments that walked the line between friendly and flirtatious. Max had a way of making you laugh like no one else could, his wit sharp and unexpected.

He nudges you playfully. "So, daughter of the most powerful team principal in Formula 1. Must be interesting."

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile tugging at your lips. "Not as glamorous as you might think."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "Try me."

You pause, considering. The weight of your father's reputation is something you've carried your entire life - a constant backdrop to every interaction, every moment.

"Imagine," you say slowly, "having every conversation potentially recorded, every interaction analyzed. One wrong move and it's not just about you, but about your family's reputation."

Max's expression shifts. There's understanding there - he knows something about familial expectations, about the pressure of carrying a name.

"My father," he says quietly, "Jos Verstappen. Not exactly a walk in the park."

The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. These moments have become more frequent - brief windows where the polished racing personas fall away, revealing something raw and real.

"Tell me," you prompt softly.

He takes a deep breath. "Constant pressure. Every race, every test, every moment - it's like I'm living not just for myself, but for some expectation he's created. Sound familiar?"

You laugh, but it's a sound tinged with something harder. Sadness. Recognition. "Absolutely."

Your conversations have been like this lately - layers peeling back, revealing something raw and real beneath the polished exterior of Formula 1.

"Sometimes," Max continues, "I wonder if I'm racing for myself or for the legacy everyone else wants me to create."

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the night. "Little Wolff?"

Lewis approaches, his team kit still impeccable despite the late hour. His eyes narrow when he sees Max, taking in your proximity.

Lewis had been a constant in your life long before Max entered the picture. Since joining Mercedes, he'd taken on a role that was part mentor, part protective older brother. It wasn't an official designation, but in the Mercedes family, it might as well have been law.

Lewis knew everything about you - your hopes, your fears and everything in between. He was more than just your father's driver. He was family.

"Oh," Lewis says, a mix of surprise and something else - protection, wariness. "Verstappen."

Max stands immediately. "I was just leaving," he says quickly, a touch of nervousness breaking through his usual confidence. "See you around."

As Max walks away, Lewis turns to you, his protective big brother persona fully activated. "What," he says slowly, "was that about?"

You start walking together, the paddock lights casting long shadows. Lewis' stride is purposeful, matching yours.

"Nothing," you say, but the word sounds unconvincing even to your own ears, "He's my friend."

"Friend," he says, uncertainty in his voice, "Just be careful, okay? Things are never that simple in this paddock" he'd said, and you knew he meant more than just about Max.

You said nothing. But you heard him. You always did.

Barcelona, 2016

The champagne sparkles in the late afternoon sun as you watch from a secluded corner of the paddock. You smile as you watch Max on that podium - the youngest winner in Formula 1 history. Your smile is wide, uncontrolled, and you're grateful for the relative privacy of your spot. If anyone noticed that your eyes never left Max, that your smile was meant only for him, they didn't say.

You remember the first time you saw him race, really race - not just in videos or testing. The raw talent, the fearlessness that made your breath catch. Over the past year, you'd watched him grow from that confident teenager in the Melbourne coffee shop into someone who commanded respect on track. And somewhere along the way, between stolen moments in the paddock and late-night conversations, he'd become so much more than just another driver.

The past year had been a dance of almost-moments and careful distances. Shared glances across crowded rooms, text messages that made you smile at 3 AM, touches that lingered just a second too long. You'd both known the complications, the impossibility of it all - the Mercedes team principal's daughter and Red Bull's rising star. It was like a modern Romeo and Juliet, except instead of warring families, it was competing Formula 1 teams.

Later that evening, you stand in your father's office doorway, heart hammering but determined. Toto is absorbed in post-race papers, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the formidable team principal even hours after the race.

"Papa?"

He looks up, his expression softening slightly at the sight of you. "Yes, Schatz?"

"I'm going out," you say, trying to keep your voice casual while mentally rehearsing your prepared explanation.

Toto's eyebrows rise slightly. "Out?"

"With some friends," you elaborate, grateful for years of practice at maintaining your composure under his scrutiny. "To celebrate the race."

He sets his papers down, removing his glasses. "Friends from the team?"

Your heart skips. "Just… friends from the paddock," you say carefully. "Daniel invited me."

"Ricciardo?" His tone sharpens slightly.

"He's always been nice to me," you reason, which isn't a lie. Daniel has been a friend since his early days, always treating you like a friend rather than just the boss' daughter.

Toto studies you for a long moment, and you force yourself to meet his gaze steadily, even as your pulse races. You've always been close to your father - he's been your hero, your guide, your biggest supporter. The weight of potentially disappointing him sits heavy in your chest.

"Be careful," he finally says, though his tone suggests he's not entirely convinced. "You know how complicated things can be in this world."

"I know, Papa," you say softly. "I'll be careful. Promise."

Getting into the Red Bull celebration is easier than expected, thanks to Daniel's help. He meets you at a side entrance, his trademark grin wider than usual.

"Looking good, Wolff," he winks, pulling you into a quick hug. "Though I'm pretty sure your dad would kill me if he knew I was helping you sneak in."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you say, trying to ignore the guilt that accompanies the words.

"Just…" Daniel's expression turns serious for a moment. "Be careful, yeah? With Max. He's my teammate and you're like my sister, and I don't want either of you getting hurt."

You're saved from responding by the noise of the party as he leads you inside. The atmosphere is electric - the joy of Max's first win filling the air along with music and laughter.

When Max spots you, his eyes widen, champagne glass freezing halfway to his lips. The surprise on his face quickly melts into something softer, more private. He excuses himself from his group and makes his way over, that familiar smirk playing on his lips - the one that never fails to make your heart skip.

"Should I be worried about Mercedes spies in our midst?" he teases, but his eyes are soft, drinking you in.

"You know me," you counter, matching his playful tone while trying to ignore how good he looks in his race winner's shirt, "I live for trouble."

"That you do, Wolff." He steps closer, just slightly, but enough to make your breath catch. "I didn't think you'd come."

"And miss your first win celebration? Never." You mean it to sound light, teasing, but your voice comes out softer, more sincere than intended.

"Still can't believe it," he says, shaking his head with a boyish grin that makes him look his age for once. "My first win."

"I can," you reply, taking a sip of champagne. "I've seen how you drive. It was only a matter of time."

He looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. "You've been watching me drive, then?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on the competition," you tease, but you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Is that what I am? Competition?" He moves closer, and suddenly the music seems far away.

"Among other things." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

The conversation flows easily between you, as it always has. You talk about the race, about his incredible overtakes, about the moment he realized he was going to win. His eyes light up when he describes the feeling of crossing the finish line, and you find yourself caught between admiring his passion and getting lost in the way his hands move as he talks.

As the night progresses, the party gets louder, more crowded. Max notices you glancing around at the growing crowd.

"Want to get some air?" he asks, nodding toward a door that leads to a quieter area.

You follow him to a private terrace overlooking the city. The music is muffled here, and the night air is cool on your skin. You lean against the railing, city lights twinkling below.

"Better?" he asks, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

"Much." You turn to face him, drawn in by the way the lights play across his features. "Though I have to say, you throw quite a party for a rookie winner."

He laughs, the sound low and warm. "Rookie? I've been racing since before I could walk."

"Oh right, I forgot - Max Verstappen, born in a go-kart," you tease, making him smile wider.

"You're impossible, you know that?" He shakes his head, but his eyes are fond.

"Part of my charm," you counter, feeling bold in the privacy of the moment.

"Is that what you call it?" He's even closer now, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"Would you rather I was predictable?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging.

"Never." His voice drops lower, sending shivers down your spine. "Predictable is boring. And you, YN Wolff, are anything but boring."

The tension between you is electric, years of carefully maintained distance crumbling in this quiet moment. Your heart is racing so fast you wonder if he can hear it.

"Well," you say, stepping into his space until there's barely a breath between you, "I think the winner deserves a reward."

Before you can second-guess yourself, you're kissing him. It's everything and nothing like you imagined - soft at first, tentative, like you're both afraid of breaking something precious. Then his hand comes up to cup your face, and the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent. You can taste champagne on his lips, feel the solid warmth of him against you. Your fingers curl into his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world spins around you.

It's a perfect moment, suspended in time, until he pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

"You're trouble, Wolff," he murmurs against your lips, but he's smiling that smile that makes your heart flip. "Beautiful trouble."

"Scared?" you challenge softly, echoing your first conversation in Melbourne.

"Terrified," he admits, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "But in a good way."

You stay at the party longer than you should, caught in Max's orbit. Every smile, every touch, every shared look feels charged with possibility. But reality crashes back hours later when you return.

Your dad is waiting, his expression thunderous in a way you've rarely seen directed at you. Your stomach drops as soon as you see him, the lingering warmth from Max's kisses turning to ice in your veins.

"Would you like to explain," he says slowly, each word precise and controlled, "why did I receive a call informing me that my daughter was at a Red Bull celebration?"

"Papa, I-" you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture.

"Don't." His voice is hard. "Don't try to fool me. I've seen you with Max Verstappen."

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. You want to defend yourself, explain that Max isn't just the Red Bull driver he sees, that there's more to him.

"Do you have any idea," he continues, "what position this puts me in? Puts the team in?"

"It's not about the teams," you say quietly, finding your voice. "It's just-"

"Just what?" he challenges. "Just you and him? Nothing is ever just anything in Formula 1, YN. Every action has consequences. Every relationship has implications."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "This sport isn't about fair. It's about winning. About loyalty. About trust." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "How can I trust you to put the team first when you're sneaking around with our biggest rival?"

The words hit you like a physical blow. "I would never betray the team," you whisper, hurt that he could even think that.

"Maybe not intentionally," he says, his voice softening slightly. "But this… whatever this is with Max Verstappen… it can't continue. I won't tell you again. Stay away from him."

You want to argue more, to make him understand. But you recognize the finality in your father's tone, the immovable force that has made him such a successful team principal. In this world of racing and rivalry, some lines aren't meant to be crossed.

As you leave, you touch your lips, still feeling the ghost of Max's kiss. Your phone buzzes - a message from Max: "Worth the trouble?"

You stare at the screen, tears threatening to fall. Sometimes the biggest crashes in Formula 1 aren't on the track at all. Sometimes they're in the space between what your heart wants and what the sport demands.

Germany, 2016

The German summer air is thick with tension. You can feel it crackling through the paddock like electricity before a storm. Nico and Lewis' rivalry has turned the Mercedes garage into a pressure cooker, and your father's stress is palpable. Being around him feels like walking on eggshells, which makes your secret meetings with Max even more dangerous.

You've gotten good at this dance over the past few months - stolen moments between practice sessions, hidden corners of the paddock, coded messages about "casual meetings" that are anything but casual. Every stolen kiss feels like a victory and a risk all at once.

The sun is setting over Hockenheim when you slip behind the Red Bull motorhome, your heart racing with the familiar mix of excitement and fear. Max is already there, leaning against the wall with that cocky smile that still makes your stomach flip.

"Cutting it close, Wolff," he murmurs as you approach. "Your father's been prowling the paddock all day."

"Worried?" you tease, even as you glance around to ensure you're alone.

His answer is to pull you against him, one hand sliding to your waist while the other cups your face. "About your father? Always. About this? Never."

The kiss is heated from the start - months of practice have taught you both exactly how to make each other breathless. His thumb traces your jawline as he deepens the kiss, and you press closer, fingers curling into his team shirt. You love how solid he feels against you, how his breath catches when you bite gently at his lower lip.

"You're going to get me in trouble," he whispers against your mouth, but his smile suggests he doesn't mind at all.

"You love trouble," you remind him, trailing kisses along his jaw.

His hands tighten on your waist. "I love-" he starts, but cuts himself off, choosing instead to capture your lips again in a kiss that makes you forget everything else.

You lose track of time, lost in the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. It's dangerous and perfect and everything you shouldn't want but can't resist.

A sound makes you both freeze. You pull apart quickly, straightening your clothes, but it's too late.

Jos Verstappen stands at the corner of the motorhome, his expression dark and unreadable. Your blood runs cold at the sight of him.

"I… I should go," you manage, your voice shaky. Max's hand brushes yours briefly - a small comfort - before you hurry past his father, avoiding his stern gaze.

Behind you, you can hear Jos' voice, low and harsh in Dutch, but you don't stop to listen. Your heart is pounding as you make your way back to the paddock, wondering if this is the moment everything falls apart.

Max stands his ground as his father's disapproval fills the space between them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jos demands in Dutch, his voice controlled but sharp. "The Wolff girl? Have you lost your mind?"

"It's not what you think-" Max starts, but Jos cuts him off.

"It's exactly what I think. You're letting yourself get distracted. By a Mercedes girl, no less. Toto Wolff's daughter?" Jos steps closer, his presence intimidating despite Max now being taller than him. "You're just starting to prove yourself in Formula 1. This is when you need to focus more than ever."

"I am focused," Max argues. "My results prove that."

"For now." Jos' voice turns cold. "But girls like that, from families like that - they're nothing but distractions. She'll get in your head, make you soft. And then what? You think Toto Wolff wants his daughter with a Red Bull driver? You think this ends well?"

Max clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to defend you, to explain that you're different, that you understand the sport as well as he does. But he knows his father won't listen.

"Stay away from her," Jos says finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Focus on what matters. On winning and being champion. That's what we've worked for all these years. Don't throw it away for some girl."

The words hit harder than Max wants to admit, echoing his own doubts, his own fears about what this thing with you means. But he can't forget the way you look at him like you see past the racer, past the name, to who he really is.

Jos leaves him there in the growing darkness, with only the weight of expectations and the lingering taste of your kiss on his lips.

Monaco, May 2017

Another year, another dance of stolen moments and secret smiles. If anything, the warnings and opposition have only made whatever this is between you and Max more intense. Like a forbidden drug, each stolen moment leaves you craving more, even as the risks grow higher.

"This is a terrible idea," Max whispers as you pull him through your back door, "Your dad is literally upstairs."

"He's dead asleep," you assure him, carefully closing the door. "He took sleeping pills for his flight tomorrow. Besides, he sleeps like the dead anyway."

Max still looks like he's ready to bolt at any second. "YN, if he catches me here-"

"He won't." You tug him closer by his shirt. "Unless you keep talking so loud."

He glances nervously at the stairs. "Your room is up there? Past his?"

"Scared, Verstappen?"

"Terrified, actually." But he follows you anyway, both of you carefully avoiding the creaky third step you'd mapped out years ago during teenage sneaking attempts.

You're almost at your door when Max freezes. "Was that-"

"Just the house settling," you whisper, but your heart is racing too. "Come on, we're almost-"

A door opens down the hall.

Max actually whimpers. You shove him into your room just as Toto's voice calls out, "YN? Is that you?"

"Just getting water, Papa!" you call back, praying your voice sounds normal. "Go back to sleep."

"Everything okay?"

"Fine! Those pills should be kicking in, right?"

A yawn. "Ja, starting to feel them. Goodnight, Schatz."

"Night, Papa!"

You wait until you hear his door close before slipping into your room. You find Max standing perfectly still in the middle of the floor, looking absolutely terrified.

"I think I'm having a heart attack," he announces in a whisper. "I'm actually having a heart attack. I can see the headlines now: 'F1 Driver Dies of Fear in Team Principal's House.'"

You try not to laugh. "You're being dramatic."

"Dramatic?" His voice rises slightly before he catches himself. "YN, your father was ten feet away from me. Ten feet! Do you know what he would do to me if he found me here?"

"Well, first he'd probably have a heart attack himself-"

"Not helping!"

"Then probably murder you-"

"Still not helping!"

"And Lewis would hide the body-"

"Why did I agree to this?" He runs his hands through his hair. "I'm a professional athlete. I have championships to win. I can't die in Toto Wolff's house because his daughter is too pretty to say no to."

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning. "You think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're trying to kill me." But his hands settle on your waist automatically. "If your father walks in right now-"

"He won't."

"But if he does-"

"Max." You kiss him softly. "Stop talking about my father when you're in my bedroom."

"Missed you," he murmurs against your mouth, hands already sliding under your shirt. "Watching you in the paddock all day, not being able to touch you…"

You smile against his lips. "Poor baby. Must be so hard being professional."

He responds by lifting you up, making you laugh as he carries you toward your bed. "You have no idea."

Hours later, you're tangled in your sheets, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. The city's lights cast shadows across his face, making him look older than his twenty years.

"We should sleep," you say, even as you press closer to him. "You have meetings tomorrow."

"Meetings are overrated," he mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Says the guy who's already breaking records." Your fingers trail down his chest. "Future world champion can't skip meetings."

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "Future world champion can do whatever he wants."

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, pretending the world outside doesn't exist. But morning comes too soon, sunlight streaming through your windows and your alarm blaring way too early.

Max groans, burying his face in your neck. "Five more minutes."

"You said that twenty minutes ago," you remind him, even as you run your fingers through his hair. "You're already going to be late, and my father is still next room, remember?"

He lifts his head, giving you that boyish grin that still makes your heart skip. "Worth it."

But reality can't be held at bay forever. Max rushes to get dressed, stealing kisses between looking for his scattered clothes. You watch from your bed, sheet wrapped around you, trying to memorize how he looks in the morning light.

"Tonight?" he asks, pausing at your bedroom door.

"Text me," you say, and he gives you one last smile before he's gone.

Max is still smiling when he arrives at the Red Bull office, nearly an hour late for his morning meeting. The smile dies on his lips when he sees his father waiting outside, arms crossed and expression thunderous.

"You were with that girl weren't you? Nothing's changed" Jos demands without preamble, switching to Dutch.

"I was just-"

"Don't lie to me." Jos' voice is low, dangerous. "Are you trying to destroy everything we've worked for?"

"I'm not destroying anything," Max argues, frustration creeping into his voice. "My results-"

"Your results could be better," Jos cuts him off. "You could be focused on becoming champion instead of sneaking around with Toto Wolff's daughter. Do you think this is a game?"

"It's not a game-"

"Then what is it?" Jos steps closer, his presence still intimidating despite Max being taller now. "Love?" He spits the word like it's poison. "You think love wins championships? You think that girl is worth throwing away everything we've sacrificed for?"

Max clenches his jaw, the weight of years of his father's expectations pressing down on him. "I can handle both-"

"No." Jos' voice is final, absolute. "You can't. And you won't. This ends now. Cut her off."

"Or what?" The words slip out before Max can stop them, a rare challenge to his father's authority.

Jos' eyes turn cold. "Or I'll make sure Toto knows exactly what his precious daughter has been up to. How do you think that ends for her? For her relationship with her father? For her position in the paddock?"

The threat hangs in the air between them. Max feels his stomach turn to ice, knowing his father well enough to know this isn't an empty threat.

"Your choice, Max," Jos says, already turning away. "But make it soon. This distraction ends now, or there will be consequences. For everyone."

Max stands there long after his father leaves, the taste of your kisses still on his lips, now bitter with the weight of choices.

Monza, 2017

The Italian late summer heat feels suffocating as you finally corner Max behind the Ferrari motorhome - neutral territory. He's been dodging you since Hungary, responding to texts with one-word answers before stopping altogether. You've seen that look in his eyes when he spots you in the paddock - the way he quickly turns away, finds somewhere else to be.

"Hey stranger," you say, aiming for casual despite your racing heart. "Been a while."

He looks everywhere but at you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "YN…" There's a warning in his voice that you choose to ignore.

"I've missed you," you continue, taking a step closer. "We haven't talked since-"

"We can't do this anymore." His words cut through the air like a knife.

You freeze, the practiced speech you'd prepared dying in your throat. "What?"

"This." He gestures vaguely between you, still not meeting your eyes. "Whatever this is. It has to stop."

"Just like that?" Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. "After everything?"

"I need to focus on racing." He sounds like he's reciting a rehearsed speech. "Just racing. No distractions."

The word 'distraction' hits you like a physical blow. "Is that what I am? A distraction?"

Finally, he looks at you, and for a moment you see something crack in his carefully constructed facade - pain, regret, something more. But then it's gone, replaced by a coldness you've never seen directed at you before.

"This was never going to work," he says flatly. "We both knew that. It'll only cause trouble - for you, for me, for our families. It's better to end it now."

You think about all the stolen moments, the late-night conversations, the way he'd look at you like you were the only person in a crowded room. All reduced to 'trouble'.

"Fine." You straighten your spine, channeling every ounce of Wolff pride you possess. "See you around, Max Verstappen."

You turn and walk away before he can respond, each step measured and controlled despite feeling like your world is crumbling. You make it all the way to the Mercedes motorhome before the tears start to fall.

You duck into what you think is an empty corner, trying to get yourself under control, when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Little Wolff?"

Lewis stands there, concern etched across his features. He's known you since you were a kid, has watched you grow up in the paddock. In many ways, he's your brother.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, wiping at your eyes. "Just… allergies."

"Right," he says softly, not believing you for a second. "Because Monza is famous for its allergies."

A sob escapes before you can stop it, and suddenly Lewis is pulling you into a hug. You break down against his chest, all your carefully maintained composure crumbling.

"Hey, hey," he soothes, rubbing your back. "What happened? Who do I need to beat up?"

You laugh wetly against his shoulder. "Nobody. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"You're one of the smartest people I know," he counters. "So whatever it is, it's not stupid."

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. "I just… I thought…" You shake your head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. Clearly I was wrong."

Understanding dawns in Lewis's eyes. He's not blind - he's probably noticed more than most about your relationship with Max, even if he's never mentioned it.

"Sometimes," he says carefully, "people make choices out of fear rather than what they really want. Especially in this world."

"He said I was a distraction," you whisper, the words still burning.

Lewis's expression hardens slightly. "He's young. And scared. And probably being pulled in a hundred different directions." He pauses. "Doesn't make it hurt any less though, does it?"

You shake your head, fresh tears threatening to fall.

"Come here." He pulls you into another hug. "For what it's worth, I think he's an idiot. But maybe this is for the best, he's not good for you."

You stay there for a while, letting Lewis comfort you, grateful for his presence and his wisdom. But you can't shake the image of Max's face, that moment when his mask slipped, and you'd seen the pain in his eyes. You wonder if Lewis is right - if this is really about fear rather than feeling.

But in the end, you suppose it doesn't matter. A choice is still a choice, even if it's made for the wrong reasons.

Monaco, Summer 2018

The bass thrums through your body as you down another shot, Lando cheering beside you. The club is packed - all of Monaco's elite young crowd mixed with racing's next generation. Your father would have an aneurysm if he saw you here, but that's half the fun.

"Another!" Lando shouts over the music, already signaling the bartender. He's technically too young to be here, but money and fame open most doors in Monaco.

"You're a bad influence, Norris," you laugh, but you don't stop him.

"Me?" He clutches his chest in mock offense. "I'm an angel. You're the one corrupting the youth."

"You're literally younger than me."

"Details, details." He hands you another shot. "To being young and irresponsible!"

You clink glasses with him, the alcohol burning pleasantly as it goes down. This is what you needed - no paddock politics, no disappointed looks from your father, no thoughts of…

"Oh shit," Lando says suddenly, following your gaze. "We can move to another section if you want."

Max has just walked in with a group of friends. He looks good - he always looks good - in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Your stomach does that familiar flip before you forcefully squash it down.

"Why should we move?" you say, perhaps a bit too loudly. "We were here first."

Lando gives you that knowing look he's perfected over the past year of friendship. "YN…"

"Don't start," you warn him. "I'm fine. It's fine. Ancient history."

"Right," he drawls. "That's why you drunk-called me crying about him last month."

"I did not!"

"'Lando,'" he mimics in a high voice, "'why doesn't he want meeeee?'"

You shove him playfully. "I hate you."

"You love me." He grins. "I'm your favorite driver now."

"You're not even in F1 yet."

"Yet!" He wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Next year though. Then I'll be beating your ex's ass on track."

"He's not my ex," you mutter. "We were never actually together, remember?"

"Right, just sneaking around making out for like a year and a half. Totally casual."

You're about to retort when movement catches your eye. Max is at the bar now, and there's a girl with him. Tall, blonde, model-beautiful. She's touching his arm, laughing at something he's saying, and he's leaning in close to hear her over the music.

"YN…" Lando's voice has that warning tone.

"I need another drink," you announce, turning back to the bar.

Three shots later, you're on the dance floor with Lando, trying to forget the scene playing out at the bar. But your eyes keep drifting over, watching as Max gets closer to the blonde, his hand now on her waist.

"Stop torturing yourself," Lando says in your ear.

"I'm not-" you start, but the words die in your throat as you watch Max lean down and kiss the girl.

Something inside you snaps. You scan the crowd, spotting a guy who's been eyeing you all night. He's good-looking enough - dark hair, nice smile, probably a trust fund kid like half the people here.

"YN," Lando tries to grab your arm, but you're already moving.

You approach the guy with purpose, channeling every ounce of confidence the alcohol has given you. "Want to dance?"

He looks surprised but pleased. "Absolutely."

You let him pull you close, perhaps closer than necessary. You can feel eyes on you - Lando's concerned ones, and maybe, just maybe, someone else's too.

The guy - you think he said his name was Alex or Alec - is a good dancer. His hands are respectful but firm on your hips as you move to the music. When he leans down to kiss you, you let him.

It's not a bad kiss. He knows what he's doing. But he doesn't taste right, doesn't feel right. His hands aren't calloused from racing. He doesn't smell like motor oil and expensive cologne. He's not… him

But you kiss him anyway. When you finally pull back from the kiss, Lando is at your elbow.

"I think we should head out," he says, glancing meaningfully at your nearly empty glass.

"I'm having fun," you protest, even as the room spins slightly. Alex-or-Alec's hands are still on your waist.

"YN." Lando's voice is firmer now. "Come on."

You turn back to Alex-or-Alec, pulling him down for another kiss. It's messy and desperate and you can taste the expensive whiskey on his breath. You're proving something, you think, though you're not sure what or to whom anymore.

Through the haze of alcohol and bass-heavy music, you hear a familiar voice.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Max is standing there, his face tight with anger. The blonde from earlier is nowhere to be seen, but there's another girl hovering behind him - brunette this time.

"Having fun," you say sweetly, pressing closer to Alex-or-Alec. "You should try it. Oh wait, you already are."

"You don't even know this guy," Max snaps.

"His name is Alex." You pause. "Or Alec."

"It's Adrian," the guy supplies helpfully.

"Whatever." Max steps forward. "You're drunk. You need to go home."

"And you need to mind your own business." You turn to Adrian with an exaggerated smile. "Want to get out of here?"

"YN," Lando pleads. "Don't."

"Sure," Adrian grins, clearly oblivious to the tension. "My place isn't far."

Max moves so fast you barely register it, suddenly between you and Adrian. "She's not going anywhere with you."

"Excuse me?" You push at his chest. "You don't get to decide that. You lost that right when you-" You cut yourself off, aware you're saying too much.

"When I what?" Max challenges, his eyes dark. "When I did exactly what you're doing right now?"

"No," you laugh, but it comes out bitter. "When you decided that sneaking around was fine until it wasn't. When you started showing up to every event with a new girl on your arm. When you-"

"YN," Lando tugs at your arm. "Not here."

You shake him off. "Go back to your girlfriend, Max. Or girlfriends. I lost count tonight."

"You're being ridiculous."

"And you're being a hypocrite." You grab Adrian's hand. "Let's go."

Max's hand closes around your wrist. "You're not leaving with him."

"Get your hands off me." Your voice is ice cold. "You don't get to play protective boyfriend when it suits you. Go find another model to add to your collection."

Something flashes in his eyes - hurt maybe, or anger. "Fine. Do what you want. You always do anyway."

"Exactly. I do what I want." You turn to Adrian. "Sorry, but I've changed my mind. Turns out I have standards."

You shake off Max's grip and push past him, heading for the exit. Lando hurries after you, already calling for a car.

"YN, wait-" Max calls after you.

"Go to hell, Verstappen."

Outside, the Monaco air is cool against your flushed skin. Lando wraps his jacket around your shoulders as tears start to fall.

"I hate him," you whisper.

"No, you don't." Lando pulls you into a hug. "That's the problem."

The morning sunlight streaming through the windows feels like actual daggers in your skull. You're nursing your third cup of coffee, wearing sunglasses indoors like the walking cliché you are, when your father's voice cuts through your hangover haze.

"Would you care to explain these?"

Toto slides his phone across the breakfast table. Your stomach drops as you see the photos - you dancing with Adrian, Max confronting you, your tearful exit with Lando. The Monaco nightlife paparazzi are relentless, and you were too drunk to notice them.

"Papa, I-"

"No." His voice is quiet but firm. That's worse than yelling. "This stops now, YN. This... rebellion phase of yours. It stops."

Lewis and Valtteri are suddenly very interested in their breakfast plates. Susie, your stepmother, places a gentle hand on your father's arm, but doesn't contradict him.

"It wasn't-"

"Wasn't what?" Toto's accent gets thicker when he's angry. "Wasn't you, drunk in a club, making headlines again? Wasn't you creating another PR nightmare for the team?"

Your head throbs. "I'm not part of the team."

"No? Then why does every tabloid headline read 'Mercedes Boss's Daughter in Club Drama with Red Bull Star'?"

You wince. Both at his words and at the volume.

"The drinking, the parties, the public scenes - it needs to stop." He leans forward. "You're not just any teenager, liebling. Everything you do reflects on this family, on this team."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." He softens slightly. "I know this past year has been... difficult."

You feel Lewis shift beside you. He knows - of course he knows. He's probably the only one at this table who knows the full story of you and Max.

"But this self-destructive behavior cannot continue." Your father's voice is final. "You're grounded."

"I'm twenty one!"

"And living on my yacht, in my house, representing my name." He raises an eyebrow. "Would you prefer to go back to boarding school?"

The threat lands. You sink lower in your chair.

"No, sir."

"Good." He turns to his own coffee. "No more clubs. No more parties. And for God's sake, no more scenes with Max Verstappen."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You know without looking it's probably Lando checking on you. Or worse, Max.

"YN." Your father's voice draws your attention back. "I mean it. Whatever is going on between you two... it ends now."

"Nothing is going on," you mutter.

"Then it should be easy to maintain distance."

Susie finally speaks up. "Why don't you come work with me for a while? Help with the She Moves Forward initiative?"

You know it's a peace offering - a way to keep you busy and out of trouble. But the thought of structured days and responsible tasks makes your hangover worse.

"Fine," you concede, if only to end this conversation.

Lewis nudges you under the table - a small gesture of solidarity. Valtteri offers a sympathetic smile.

"Good." Your father stands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have damage control to handle."

After he leaves, Lewis slides a bottle of Advil towards you. "Here. You look like death."

"Thanks," you grumble, dry-swallowing two pills.

"He's right, you know," Lewis says quietly. "About Max."

"Not you too."

"YN." His voice is gentle. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. The drinking, the acting out - it's not going to make it hurt less."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." He stands, squeezing your shoulder. "Just... think about what you're really angry at. Because I don't think it's your father, or the team, or even Max."

"I'm going back to bed," you announce to no one in particular.

"Honey," Susie calls after you. "This doesn't have to be a punishment. Maybe it's an opportunity."

You pause at the door. "For what?"

"To figure out who you are without all the drama. Without..." she hesitates. "Without defining yourself by who you're trying to hurt."

You think about Max's face last night, about the girls he was with, about how none of it made you feel better.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "Maybe."

The air feels thick and oppressive as you stumble out of another club, the world spinning slightly. You're not entirely sure how you ended up here - after the disastrous night a few weeks ago, you'd promised yourself (and your father) that you were done with the party scene. But one text from Lando about needing to "get out" had quickly spiraled.

Except Lando had bailed last minute with food poisoning, and you'd gone anyway. Because you're nothing if not stubborn.

The familiar figure of Charles Leclerc materializes beside you. "YN? Are you okay?"

"Charles!" You throw your arms around him, nearly losing your balance. "My favorite Ferrari boy!"

He steadies you with practiced ease. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Lost count," you admit cheerfully. "But it's fine. Everything's fine."

Charles sighs, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling Lewis."

"No!" You grab for his phone but miss entirely. "Not Lewis. He'll tell Papa."

"Good. Maybe he should."

You slump against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Everyone's so disappointed in me."

Charles' expression softens as he puts the phone to his ear. "We're worried, not disappointed."

Twenty minutes later, you hear the distinctive rumble of Lewis's car. He jumps out, concern etched on his face.

"YN? What were you thinking?"

"That alcohol makes feelings go away?" you offer weakly.

Lewis turns to Charles. "Thanks for calling me."

"Of course. Take care of her."

The ride home is quiet until Lewis finally speaks. "This has to stop."

"I know," you whisper.

"No, I mean it really has to stop. You're hurting yourself, and for what? To prove something to Max?"

"It's not about Max."

"Isn't it?"

You stare out the window, tears forming. "I need to get away from here."

"What do you mean?"

"The paddock, the drama, all of it." You turn to him. "I can't keep doing this. Being the Mercedes princess, the ex-whatever of Max Verstappen. I need… space."

Lewis is quiet for a moment. "Maybe that's not a bad idea. Take some time, figure out who you are away from all this."

"Will you help me convince Papa?"

"Yeah," he says softly. "I'll help. But you have to promise me - no more nights like this."

You nod, the weight of everything finally catching up to you. "I promise."

As Lewis helps you out of the car, you freeze. Toto is standing in the doorway, still in his sleeping clothes. Your stomach drops and fresh tears spring to your eyes - this is it, the final disappointment.

But instead of the anger you expect, your father simply opens his arms.

You practically fall into them, suddenly sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I'm so sorry."

"Shh," he soothes, holding you tight like he did when you were little. "You're alright, liebling. You're alright."

"I can't-" you hiccup against his chest. "I can't do this anymore. I need to get out of here."

"Out of where?"

"Monaco. The paddock. All of it." You pull back slightly to look at him. "I need space. To figure out who I am without… without all of this."

Toto exchanges a look with Lewis over your head. "I know," he says softly, surprising you. "I've seen it coming."

"You have?"

He cups your face in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. "You're my daughter. Of course I have. I just needed you to realize it yourself."

"I'm tired, Papa," you whisper. "Of being the Mercedes princess, of the gossip, of seeing…" You trail off, but they all know what you mean. Who you mean.

"Then go," he says simply. "Find yourself. The paddock will still be here when you're ready."

"You're not mad?"

He laughs softly. "Oh, we'll discuss tonight's adventure when you're less drunk. But no, liebling. I'm not mad. Sometimes we need to step away to see things clearly."

Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We've got your back, little Wolff. Whatever you need."

Fresh tears fall as you're overwhelmed by their support. "I love you both so much."

"And we love you," Toto kisses your forehead. "Now, let's get you to bed. We can make plans tomorrow."

As they help you inside, you feel lighter somehow. Like maybe this isn't an ending, but a beginning. A chance to become someone new - or maybe to find who you've been all along, underneath the labels and expectations.

Austria, 2020

The familiar scent of rubber and fuel hits you as you step into the Mercedes garage for the first time in almost two years, your heart doing a little flip at being back after so long. Everything looks exactly the same, yet somehow different - or maybe you're the one who's different now.

"Little Wolff!" Lewis' voice booms across the garage before you're engulfed in a bone-crushing hug that lifts you off your feet. "Finally back where you belong!"

You laugh, squeezing him back just as tight. "You literally saw me at Christmas, Lewis!"

"That's not the same and you know it," he sets you down but keeps his hands on your shoulders, studying your face. "Christmas is family time. This," he gestures around the garage, "this is home."

Looking at him now, you can see the genuine joy in his eyes. Lewis has always been your second father, and these past two years, he's been your biggest cheerleader from afar, always sending encouraging messages when you were climbing mountains in Nepal or teaching English in Thailand.

"She's hardly been here five minutes and you're already monopolizing her, Lewis?" Your father's voice carries that familiar warmth that makes your chest tight with happiness. Your relationship with him has transformed during your time away - all those long phone calls and video chats where you really talked, not just about racing but about life, dreams, fears. Distance made you both realize what you'd been missing.

"Papa," you smile, walking into his open arms. He holds you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Welcome home, liebling," he murmurs. "The garage hasn't been the same without you."

"I missed you too," you say, then pull back with a grin. "But I need to go see someone else before he thinks I've forgotten him entirely."

Toto laughs. "Go on then. Lando's been asking about you non-stop since he heard you were coming back."

You practically skip your way to the McLaren garage, your heart light. The past two years have given you perspective, helped you understand yourself better. You're not the angry, lost girl who fled Monaco anymore. You're stronger now, more sure of who you are outside of being "Toto Wolff's daughter" or "Max Verstappen's conquest."

"YN!" Lando's screech of delight echoes through the garage as he launches himself at you. "You're back, you're finally back!"

"I missed you so much, you idiot," you ruffle his hair, noting how he's grown even more into himself. He's not the shy rookie anymore - he's coming into his own as a driver.

"Group hug!" Carlos appears, wrapping his long arms around both of you. "Welcome back, pequeña. It's been too quiet without you here to keep this one in line."

"Oi!" Lando protests, but he's beaming.

You're in the middle of telling them about your adventures in Japan when movement catches your eye. Your words trail off as you see him - Max, walking past the garage with Christian. He's filled out more, shoulders broader, face more mature. Your heart does that familiar stutter-step it always did around him.

Two years haven't completely erased the memory of his hands on your skin, his laugh against your neck, the way he used to look at you like you were his entire world. First loves leave permanent marks, and Max Verstappen had branded himself onto your heart when you were both too young to understand the weight of it all.

He must feel your gaze because he turns, and for a moment, your eyes lock. There's something there - recognition, remembrance, maybe even regret. You see him swallow hard, his step faltering just slightly. But neither of you moves to bridge the gap.

You turn back to Lando and Carlos, forcing a smile, but your mind is still with that brief moment of eye contact. You're not that lovesick teenager anymore, but part of you wonders if you'll ever fully get over Max Verstappen. If anyone ever really gets over their first love, or if they just learn to live with the echo of what could have been.

"YN?" Lando's voice brings you back to the present. "You okay?"

You look at your friend's concerned face and give him a genuine smile this time. "Yeah, I am. Just… remembering."

Carlos squeezes your shoulder knowingly. "The past is the past, si? You're here now, that's what matters."

You nod, grateful for their understanding. You're not the same person who left two years ago, running from heartbreak and confusion. You're stronger now, wiser. Ready to write a new chapter.

Even if sometimes, just sometimes, you still feel the ghost of an old love story tugging at your heart.

Barcelona, 2020

The Barcelona night is warm and heavy with memories as you sit at the outdoor terrace of the restaurant. Daniel's telling some ridiculous story about a kangaroo, but your attention keeps drifting to the other end of the table where Max sits, deliberately positioned as far from you as possible.

Five years ago, you'd kissed him for the first time just a few streets from here. After his first win, giddy with freedom and teenage rebellion.

"So how was Bali?" Charles asks making your come back to your senses,"The surfing photos were insane."

"Almost died about twelve times," you laugh. "But worth it."

"She's exaggerating," Max comments casually, surprising everyone at the table. It's the first time he's directly addressed anything about your travels. "I saw the videos. Your form wasn't that bad."

You catch his eye across the table. "Been keeping tabs on me, Verstappen?"

He shrugs, a hint of that old smirk playing at his lips. "Hard not to when you're all over everyone's Instagram stories."

The tension at the table shifts slightly - not gone, but different. Lando kicks your foot under the table, raising an eyebrow when you look at him. You ignore him.

The conversation flows easier after that, stories and laughter bouncing around the table. You find yourself watching Max when he's not looking - the way he's grown into his features, how his laugh is deeper now, how he still runs his hand through his hair when he's trying not to smile.

As the night winds down, you end up being the last two waiting for cars. The others had filtered out gradually - Daniel dragging Charles off to some club, Lando claiming early training, Carlos heading home with his father.

"So," Max breaks the silence first, hands in his pockets. "Two years."

"Two years," you echo, leaning against the wall. "Feels longer sometimes."

"And shorter," he adds, then glances at you. "You look good. Happy."

"I am. Mostly." You study his profile in the streetlights. "You've changed too."

He laughs softly. "Had to grow up sometime, right? Can't be the paddock's problem child forever."

"No more sneaking around in garages?" The words slip out before you can stop them.

His eyes darken slightly at the memory. "Bit harder to get away with that these days. Plus, there hasn't been anyone worth the risk."

The weight of unspoken things hangs between you. All those stolen moments - behind motorhomes, in empty conference rooms, dark corners of victory parties. Never official, never acknowledged, but burning so bright it scared you both.

"Want to come up to my place?" he asks suddenly. "Just to talk. Properly. Without…" he gestures vaguely at the paddock world around you.

You should say no. But two years of distance have made you forget how magnetic he is, or maybe just made you brave enough to pretend you can resist it. "Okay."

The penthouse is exactly what you'd expect - sleek and modern, with a view that makes you catch your breath. You walk to the windows, Barcelona sprawling below like a constellation.

"Remember that night after your first win?" you ask softly. "When we snuck onto the roof?"

"Papa Wolff nearly had a heart attack," Max comes to stand beside you, close enough that your arms almost touch. "Worth it though."

"Was it?" You turn to look at him. "All of it? The sneaking around, the fights with our families, the constant hiding?"

"You know it was." His voice drops lower. "At least, it was for me."

"Max…"

"I've missed you," he admits quietly. "Not just… not just the physical stuff. I missed talking to you. Making you laugh. The way you'd roll your eyes every time I said something stupid in press conferences."

"I still do that," you smile despite yourself. "Some things don't change."

"Maybe they shouldn't." He steps closer, and suddenly you're eighteen again, heart racing at his proximity. "Maybe some things are worth holding onto."

When he kisses you, it feels like muscle memory. Your body remembers this dance - the way his hands find your waist, how he tastes like wine and possibilities. It's softer than the desperate kisses you used to share in dark corners, but somehow more dangerous for it.

You pull back first, breathing hard. "We can't."

"Why not?" His thumb traces your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. Who cares what anyone thinks?"

"I do," you step away, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I left to get away from this, Max. From sneaking around, from being the paddock scandal waiting to happen. I built a life where I'm not defined by who I'm secretly sleeping with or whose daughter I am."

"It wouldn't be like before-"

"Wouldn't it? The politics haven't changed. Our families still wouldn't approve."

"I don't care about any of that," he reaches for you but you step back.

"That's the problem," your voice cracks. "I had to live with all of it. The whispers, the judgment, watching my father's face every time there was another rumor about us. I can't go back to that."

"YN, please-"

"I should go." You grab your phone from the counter. "This was a mistake."

At the elevator, you turn back one last time. He's still by the window, silhouetted against the city lights. "For what it's worth," you say softly, "you were my first love. Maybe that's why we have to let it stay in the past."

The elevator doors close on his response, and you lean against the wall, heart pounding. Some part of you will probably always want Max Verstappen. But you've worked too hard to become your own person to let that want destroy everything again.

Even if walking away feels like leaving part of yourself behind.

Monaco, 2020

The yacht party is winding down, the late hour thinning out the crowd until somehow you find yourself alone on the upper deck. The Mediterranean breeze carries fragments of music and laughter from below, but up here it's quiet enough to hear your own thoughts - dangerous, when they all seem to revolve around him.

You hear his footsteps before you see him. You don't need to turn around to know it's Max - your body has always been attuned to his presence, like a compass finding north.

"Hiding?" His voice is soft as he comes to stand beside you at the railing.

"Just needed some air." It's not entirely a lie. "Shouldn't you be downstairs? This is your best friend's party."

"Daniel can handle it on his own," he shrugs, looking out at the harbor lights. "Needed some air too."

The silence that follows should be uncomfortable, but it isn't. That's the problem with Max - everything still feels as natural as breathing. Two years away hasn't changed how your body relaxes in his presence, how the air seems to crackle with possibility when he's near.

"Remember that party in Singapore?" he asks suddenly.

You smile despite yourself. "When we hid from Lewis for half of the night?"

"You were wearing that blue dress," he continues, and something in his voice makes your heart skip. "I couldn't take my eyes off you all night."

"Max…"

"I still can't," he admits quietly. "Even now. Even when I'm supposed to be focusing on other things, my eyes just… find you."

You grip the railing tighter. "We can't do this again."

"Can't we?" He turns to face you now. "Because ever since Barcelona, since that kiss…"

"That was a mistake."

"Was it?" He steps closer, and you fight the urge to move away. "Because it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like coming home."

The words hit you right in the chest, because he's right. That's exactly what it felt like - like every cell in your body recognizing where it belonged.

"Nothing's changed," you say, but your voice wavers. "The politics, our families, the media…"

"Everything's changed," he counters. "We're not those kids anymore, sneaking around without putting a label on it because we didn't know better. I know exactly what I want now. Who I want."

"Max, please-"

"Two years, YN. Two years of watching you live your life through Instagram stories and paddock glimpses. Two years of trying to convince myself I was over you." His hand finds yours on the railing. "But the truth is, a part of me has belonged to you since that first night in Melbourne, and I don't think that's ever going to change."

You should pull your hand away. Instead, you turn it over, letting your fingers intertwine with his. "I tried so hard to become someone new," you whisper. "Traveled the world, built this whole independent life. But the moment I saw you again…"

"I know." His other hand comes up to cup your face, and you lean into the touch instinctively. "Because I felt it too."

"It scares me," you admit. "How easy it is to fall back into this. How right it feels when it should feel wrong."

"Maybe that's exactly why it isn't wrong." His thumb traces your cheekbone. "Maybe some things are just meant to be, despite everything else."

When he kisses you this time, it's different from Barcelona. That kiss had been hesitant, testing. This one feels like surrender, like finally stopping a fight you were always meant to lose. Your hands find his chest, feeling his heart racing under your palm, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispers. "You're the first girl I ever loved, and I think maybe you'll be the last. I know it's complicated, I know there are a million reasons why we shouldn't, but I don't care about any of them. I just want you."

You close your eyes, overwhelmed by the truth in his words, by how perfectly they mirror your own feelings. "I never stopped loving you," you confess. "I tried. God, I tried so hard. But it's like… it's like a part of me just belongs to you, and no amount of distance can change that."

"Then be with me," he pleads softly. "For real this time. No more running."

"How?" But you're already melting into him as he pulls you closer. "Nothing's changed, Max. My father would still lose it, Christian would still disapprove, the media would have a field day…"

"So we don't tell them." His hands slide to your waist. "We keep it between us. No sneaking around in garages this time, no risky moments in the paddock. Just us, in private, doing this properly."

You should say no. You know all the reasons why this can't work. But as his lips find yours again, you realize you're tired of fighting this magnetic pull between you.

"If anyone finds out…" you start.

"They won't," he promises. "We'll be careful. We're not those reckless kids anymore."

And maybe that's the key difference - you're not acting on impulse anymore, not diving in blindly. You're choosing this, fully aware of the consequences, of what you both stand to lose.

"Okay," you whisper against his mouth. "Okay."

When he kisses you again, it feels like every kiss you've ever shared and completely new all at once. Like coming home and starting an adventure. Like an ending and a beginning wrapped into one.

Later, you'll figure out the logistics, the careful dance of secrecy. But for now, you let yourself exist in this moment.

Some things, you realize, are worth keeping secret. Some loves are worth protecting, even if it means hiding them from the world.

Morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max's apartment, painting everything in soft gold. You're awake before him, taking in the familiar weight of his arm around your waist, the steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck. It feels surreal - like stepping back in time, but with the sharp edge of awareness that comes with being older.

You feel him stir, his arm tightening slightly around you. "You're thinking too loud," he mumbles against your shoulder.

"Sorry," you turn to face him, finding his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Hard not to."

He props himself up on an elbow, studying your face. The morning light makes everything feel more raw, more real. "Having second thoughts?"

"No," you say honestly. "Just… thinking about how we make this work."

"We managed before."

"And look how that ended." You trace a pattern on his chest absently. "We were reckless then. Every stolen moment was a near-miss."

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "So we're smarter this time. No more risky moments in the paddock. No sneaking around where anyone could see us."

"It's not just that." You sit up, pulling the sheet with you. "Max, if this gets out… it's not just about our families being angry. It could affect your career, the team dynamics. And my father-"

"Would probably try to have me assassinated," he finishes with a half-smile, but you can see the seriousness in his eyes. "I know. Trust me, I've thought about all of it."

"And you still want this?"

He sits up too, cupping your face in his hands. "More than anything. The question is, do you?"

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. "You know I do. That's what scares me. How much I want this, despite everything."

"Then we figure it out." His thumb brushes your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. We know how to be discreet. Your place, my place, private locations only. No public appearances together unless we're with the whole group. No suspicious social media activity."

"No telling anyone," you add. "Not even Lando or Charles."

"Especially not them," he agrees. "The fewer people who know, the safer it is."

You open your eyes to find him watching you with that intense focus he usually reserves for racing. "It's going to be hard," you warn. "Pretending there's nothing between us in public. Watching you from a distance at races."

"We've had years of practice at that," he reminds you softly. "At least now I get to hold you afterward."

The simple statement makes your heart clench. You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. "When did you get so good with words?"

"Must be all those media training sessions," he smirks, but then turns serious. "I meant what I said last night. I love you. Whatever we have to do to make this work, I'm in."

"I love you too," you whisper back. "God, I really do."

He kisses you then, slow and deep, like he's trying to memorize the moment. When you pull back, you're both breathing harder.

The morning light is brighter now, reality creeping in with the rising sun. Soon, you'll have to leave separately, go back to pretending there's nothing between you. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, memorizing the feeling of being here, being his.

"This is crazy, isn't it?" you murmur against his chest.

"Probably," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hair. "But some of the best things in life are a little crazy."

You know there will be challenges ahead - difficult moments, close calls, the constant strain of secrecy. But as Max pulls you back down onto the pillows, his lips finding yours with familiar hunger, you think maybe he's right.

Some things are worth the risk. Some loves are worth keeping secret.

The key card clicks softly as you slip into Max's Monaco apartment late on September 30th. You'd made your excuses to your friends early - a headache, an important call - knowing they wouldn't question it too much since they'd already planned Max's official celebration for tomorrow.

But tonight is just for the two of you.

You find him in the kitchen, already changed into sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, pulling something from the oven. The domestic scene makes your heart flutter.

"Is Max Verstappen actually baking?" you tease, dropping your bag.

He turns with that smile that's become exclusively yours - soft, unguarded, real. "It's just heating up the cake Victoria made. I'm not completely useless."

You cross the space between you, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "Happy birthday, baby."

He turns in your embrace, backing you against the counter. "This is already better than last year's birthday."

"Mm, because last year you weren't secretly dating your rival team principal's daughter?"

"Because last year I couldn't do this," he murmurs, before kissing you deeply, hands sliding under your shirt to find bare skin. You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

The timer dings, making you both jump and then laugh.

"The cake can wait," he starts, but you push him back gently.

"Let's do this properly. Cake first, then presents, then…" you trail off suggestively.

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes are sparkling. "But I'm holding you to that 'then'."

You sit cross-legged on his massive couch, sharing pieces of Victoria's chocolate cake straight from the tin. It's comfortable in a way that still surprises you sometimes - how easily you've fallen into these private moments, these glimpses of normalcy in your decidedly abnormal situation.

"Got you something," you say, reaching for your bag.

He raises an eyebrow. "Thought you were my present?"

"Cheesy," you throw a pillow at him, which he catches easily. "Here."

He unwraps the small package carefully. Inside is a simple leather bracelet, dark brown with a subtle pattern worked into it. "Turn it over," you say softly.

On the inside, barely visible unless you know to look, are your initials and the date from Monaco - the night everything changed.

"YN…" his voice is rough as he runs his thumb over the engraving.

"I know we can't do obvious things," you explain. "But I wanted you to have something… something that's just ours. Something you can wear without anyone knowing what it means."

He pulls you into his lap, kissing you with an intensity that makes your head spin. "I love it," he murmurs against your lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper back, heart full with how natural those words feel now. "Even if you are getting old."

He retaliates by tickling your sides until you're both breathless with laughter, ending up horizontal on the couch with you pinned beneath him.

"Twenty-three isn't old," he protests, pressing kisses down your neck.

"Ancient," you tease, but it turns into a gasp as he finds that sensitive spot below your ear. "Max…"

"Mm?"

"The cake…"

"Can wait," he finishes, hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. "Right now, I want to unwrap my other present."

Later, much later, you're tangled in his sheets, your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. The city lights twinkle through the windows, creating patterns on the ceiling.

"Thank you," he says softly.

"For what?"

"For this. For making my birthday special even though we have to hide. For loving me despite everything."

You prop yourself up to look at him, trace the line of his jaw with your finger. "Thank you for making it worth it."

He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Sometimes I wish we could just tell everyone. Walk into the paddock holding your hand, take you on real dates, post about you on Instagram like a normal couple."

"I know," you sigh, settling back against his chest. "Me too. But…"

"But it would cause chaos," he finishes. "I know. Doesn't stop me from wanting it though."

You lift your head again, kissing him softly. "Maybe someday. But for now, I'm happy just having you like this. These moments are ours, just ours."

His arms tighten around you. "I love you," he says again, like he can't help himself. "More than racing, more than winning, more than-"

"Don't," you laugh, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't say more than racing. We both know that's a lie."

He grins, rolling you under him again. "Maybe it's a tie?"

"I can live with that," you smile up at him, pulling him down for another kiss.

The world outside keeps turning - tomorrow there will be the official party, the public celebrations, the careful distance you'll have to maintain. But tonight, in this space that's become your sanctuary, you can just be Max and YN, two people in love, celebrating another year together.

Even if the rest of the world doesn't know it yet.

Monaco, 2021

You're curled into Max's side on your couch, some Netflix show playing in the background that neither of you is really watching. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm while you scroll through your phone, both enjoying the calm before tomorrow's storm - the start of a new season, new expectations, new pressure.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head to look at him.

He shrugs, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders. "Not nervous. Just… ready. The car feels good, testing went well."

"Mm," you press a kiss to his jaw. "Maybe this is your year."

"Maybe," but his smile is confident as he turns to capture your lips properly. "Though right now I'm more interested in-"

Your phone buzzes loudly, Lando's name flashing on the screen. You answer it without thinking.

"Hey Lan-"

"I'm outside your place!" his cheerful voice cuts through. "Charles and I brought wine and that awful reality show you love. Open up!"

Your heart stops. "What?"

"Come on, it's freezing out here! I can see your lights on."

You sit up straight, panic flooding your system. "Lando, I-"

"Don't even try to say you're busy. It's the night before the first race, I know you're just sitting there overthinking everything."

Max is already moving, gathering his shoes and jacket silently. Your eyes meet across the room, both knowing how catastrophic it would be if Lando found him here.

"Give me five minutes," you say into the phone, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm… I need to put clothes on."

"Gross, too much information," Lando laughs. "Five minutes!"

You hang up, heart racing. "Shit, shit, shit."

"It's fine," Max is surprisingly calm as he pulls on his shoes. "I'll go out through the back stairs."

"What if they see you?" You're already scanning the room for any evidence of him - his Red Bull cap on the coffee table, his phone charger by the couch.

"They won't." He grabs his things efficiently, muscle memory from two years of sneaking around kicking in. "I'll text you when I'm clear."

Another knock at the door makes you both freeze. "YN!" Charles's voice this time. "We can hear you moving around!"

Max pulls you in for a quick, hard kiss. "I love you. Don't worry."

"Be careful," you whisper against his lips.

He flashes that cocky grin you love. "Always am."

You watch him disappear through your bedroom toward the back stairwell, then take a deep breath, running your hands through your hair to mess it up slightly - making your "just got out of bed" excuse more believable.

When you open the door, Lando immediately pushes past you with wine bottles clinking. "Finally! What were you really doing?"

"Told you, getting dressed." You accept Charles' hello kiss on the cheek, praying your face isn't as flushed as it feels.

"Your shirt's inside out," Charles points out, smirking.

You look down - shit, he's right. You'd thrown it on hastily after… earlier activities. "I was sleeping," you say quickly. "You guys interrupted my pre-race nap routine."

"At 9 PM?" Lando's already making himself at home on your couch - right where Max was sitting minutes ago. "Sure, sure."

Your phone buzzes with a text: "All clear. They didn't see me. Missing you already x"

Relief floods through you as Charles pours wine and Lando queues up the show. You settle into the evening, letting their familiar banter wash over you, trying to act normal even as your skin still tingles from Max's touch.

"You seem different lately," Charles observes suddenly, studying your face. "Happier."

"Just excited for the new season," you deflect smoothly, a skill you've perfected over the past year.

"Mm," he doesn't look entirely convinced. "No secret boyfriend we should know about?"

You laugh, the sound only slightly strained. "Right, because that worked out so well last time."

"Last time was Max," Lando points out. "Thank god you're both over that whole thing."

If only they knew. But you just smile and take a sip of wine, letting them move on to discussing tomorrow's race.

As the evening progresses, the wine flows and the reality show plays in the background. You're carefully avoiding any topics that might make Charles or Lando suspicious, laughing a bit too loudly at their jokes.

Lando, ever restless, decides to raid your kitchen for snacks. "Where do you keep the good stuff?" he calls out, opening cupboards.

Your heart immediately races. You know exactly what might be lurking in those cupboards - Max's favorite energy drink, a Red Bull can he'd left behind last time he was here. You stand up quickly, "I'll get it for you-"

But Lando's already moving, pulling open the refrigerator door. "Found it!" he announces, then pauses. His hand emerges holding a Red Bull can, but something else catches his eye. A water bottle with a distinctive Red Bull Racing team logo sits next to it.

"Huh," Charles looks over. "Isn't this Max's water bottle?"

You feel the blood drain from your face. "Oh, um-" Your mind races, searching for an explanation. "I... must have picked it up from somewhere. You know how these things get mixed up."

Lando turns, one eyebrow raised. The playful smile slowly morphs into something more knowing. "Mixed up, huh?"

Charles is watching you now, that sharp observant look that made him such a good racing driver now focused entirely on you.

"Yeah, I must've picked it up by accident, didn't even realize."

Lando shrugs and cracks open a packet of chips, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. But Charles continues to study you with that piercing gaze that makes you want to squirm.

Keeping this a secret is becoming harder and harder.

Silverstone, 2021

The English countryside blurs past your window as Max takes another curve, maybe a bit faster than necessary. It's nearly midnight, and you should both be resting before tomorrow's race, but these night drives have become your thing - the only time you can be truly alone during race weekends, truly free.

"You're showing off," you accuse, but you're smiling.

"Me? Never." He takes his eyes off the road for a second to grin at you, his hand finding yours across the console.

The radio plays softly in the background, some British pop song you don't know. The summer air rushing through the open windows carries the scent of grass and freedom. It feels perfect. Until it isn't.

It happens so fast - a deer appears out of nowhere, Max swerves to avoid it, but the road is narrow and dark. The tires lose grip on loose gravel, and suddenly you're spinning, the world turning into a kaleidoscope of shadows and panic.

The impact when it comes is brutal. Metal crunches, glass shatters, and everything goes still.

"YN?" Max's voice is tight with fear. "Baby, are you okay?"

You do a quick mental check. Everything hurts, but nothing seems broken. "I'm okay. You?"

"Fine." He's already trying to open his door, but it's jammed. The front of the car is wrapped around a tree, steam hissing from the hood. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Your phone is somewhere on the floor. When you retrieve it, the screen is cracked but working. "We need help."

"We can't call emergency services," Max says immediately. "It'll be all over the news in minutes."

He's right. You can already see the headlines: "Verstappen in Late Night Crash with Mercedes Boss's Daughter."

"Christian?" you suggest.

"He'll kill me. We have a race tomorrow." Max runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "We need someone who can be discreet, who has the resources to handle this quietly, who-"

You both realize it at the same time.

"No," Max says.

"He's the only one who can help us without this becoming a scandal."

"YN, he's the last person-"

"Max." You reach for his hand. "We don't have a choice."

He knows you're right. With a resigned sigh, he nods.

Your hands shake slightly as you dial Lewis's number. It rings three times before he answers, voice groggy with sleep.

"Little Wolff? It's midnight, what-"

"Lewis, I need your help. And I need you to not ask questions."

There's a pause, then rustling as he presumably sits up. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but… we're stuck. Had an accident on the back roads near Silverstone. We need help getting the car towed without anyone finding out."

There's a pause. "We?"

You close your eyes. "I'm with Max."

The silence that follows is deafening. "Send me your location. Don't move. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

True to his word, headlights appear eighteen minutes later. Lewis steps out of his car, taking in the scene - the wrecked vehicle, you and Max standing by the roadside, the unspoken truth of why you were together at this hour.

"Are you both alright?" He asks first, concern overriding any other emotions.

"Just bruised," you answer. "The car took the worst of it."

He nods, already on his phone. "Angela's on her way with a tow truck. She'll be discreet."

Max steps forward. "Lewis, I-"

"Don't." Lewis holds up a hand. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for her." He looks at you, something sad in his expression. "How long?"

"Since last year."

He lets out a low whistle. "Well, that explains a few things."

The wait for Angela is tense. Lewis keeps his distance, occasionally speaking quietly into his phone. Max doesn't let go of your hand, thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

When Angela arrives with the tow truck, she doesn't bat an eye at the situation. The car is loaded efficiently, and arrangements are made to have it repaired at a private garage Lewis trusts.

"I'll drive YN home," Lewis says, and it's not really a question.

Max tenses beside you, but you squeeze his hand. "It's safer this way," you whisper. "Less suspicious if anyone sees us."

He knows you're right, again. "Text me when you're home?"

"Promise."

The drive with Lewis is quiet at first. Then the storm pours down.

"Of all the stupid, reckless things," he mutters, running a hand over his face. "A year? You've been sneaking around with him for a year? Again?"

"Lewis-"

"No." He turns to face you, anger and worry warring in his expression. "Do you have any idea what could happen if this gets out? What your father would-"

"I don't care!" The words burst out louder than intended, making your head throb. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore."

"Well, you should!" Lewis's voice rises to match yours. "This isn't some game, YN. This is your life, your career, your family-"

"You think I don't know that?" You bite back. "You think we haven't spent the last year terrified of exactly that? Hiding everything, sneaking around, lying to everyone we care about?"

"Then why?" He throws his hands up in frustration. "Why risk everything for him?"

"Because I love him!" The words echo in the car. You lower your voice, tears threatening to fall. "I love him, Lewis. And he loves me. Isn't that enough?"

Lewis' expression softens slightly, but the worry remains. "Love isn't always enough, YN. Not in this world. Not with everything at stake."

"It has to be," you whisper. "Because I can't do this anymore - pretending I don't feel what I feel, acting like my heart doesn't race every time he walks into a room. I'm tired of hiding."

"He's not good for you," Lewis says quietly. "You remember how broken you were after-"

"He was nineteen," you cut him off. "We were both kids, both scared. Things are different now."

"Are they?" his voice is gentle but firm. "Because from where I'm standing, you're still sneaking around in the middle of the night, still hiding from everyone. That doesn't sound different to me."

You sink back into your seat, suddenly exhausted. "I'm not asking for your approval, Lewis. I'm just asking for you to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Because getting into a car accident at 2 AM doesn't exactly scream good decision-making."

"That wasn't-" you start to defend, but he holds up a hand.

"You shouldn't have been out there in the first place. These secret meetings, these late-night drives… it's not sustainable, YN."

"I know," you admit quietly. "We know. We've been talking about telling people, about doing this properly."

Lewis studies your face for a long moment. "And what happens when the media finds out? When your father finds out? When the pressure becomes too much and he runs again?"

"He won't." Your voice is firm despite your injuries. "He's not that scared kid anymore, Lewis. He knows what he wants now."

"And what is that?"

"Me." You meet Lewis's gaze steadily. "He wants me. All of me, no matter what it costs. And I want him."

Lewis sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. "I can't support this, YN. I've watched him hurt you too many times."

"I know," you say softly. "And I love you for wanting to protect me. But I'm not asking for your support. I'm just asking you not to make this harder than it already is, I know you're worried. But please… please don't tell anyone. Not yet. Let us do this our way."

He doesn't respond, just pulls up the car outside your hotel and unlocks it so you can get out.

Silverstone, 2021. Race day

Your hands are still shaking slightly as you make your way through the paddock. Last night's crash left more than just physical bruises - the tension with Lewis, the close call, the reality of how fragile your secret is, it all weighs heavily.

The Mercedes garage is already buzzing with pre-race energy when you spot Lewis by his car, going through data with Peter. You wait until he's alone before approaching.

"Lewis," you say softly. "Can we talk?"

He glances around before responding, voice low. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Please. What you did last night-"

"Was a mistake," he cuts you off, finally turning to face you. "I should have called emergency services, protocol be damned."

"You know why we couldn't-"

"No, YN. You couldn't because you're sneaking around like teenagers. Do you have any idea what could have happened? If that tree had been a few inches to the left-"

"But it wasn't," you interrupt. "We're fine."

"Fine?" He scoffs. "You're both bruised, his car is wrecked, and I'm now complicit in your little romance."

"It's not a little romance-"

"Then what is it?" His voice rises slightly before he checks himself. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like the same pattern as before. You, him, secrets, lies."

"I told you last night - I love him."

"Love?" He lets out a bitter laugh. "Love doesn't hide, YN. Love doesn't put people in dangerous situations. Love doesn't-"

"Don't." Your voice cracks. "Don't pretend you understand what we're dealing with."

"Oh, I understand perfectly. You're playing girlfriend with my biggest rival while there's a championship at stake. You're risking everything - your reputation, your father's position, the team's integrity-"

"This isn't a game to me!" The words come out sharper than intended. A few mechanics glance your way, and you lower your voice. "This isn't about the championship or the team. This is about me and him."

"Nothing in this paddock is ever just about two people," Lewis says coldly. "You of all people should know that."

Before you can respond, Bono approaches. "Lewis, strategy meeting."

"I need to focus," Lewis tells you, his expression hardening. "I suggest you figure out where your loyalties lie before someone gets really hurt."

He walks away, leaving you standing there with a hollow feeling in your chest. Angela catches your eye, her expression sympathetic, and you wonder how much she knows.

The pre-race preparations pass in a blur. You go through the motions, smile when appropriate, but your mind keeps drifting to Max. You haven't seen him since Lewis dropped you off last night - you both agreed it was safer to stay apart until the race.

Then you're in the garage, watching the formation lap. Your father stands beside you, discussing something with the engineers, but their words sound distant.

Lap one. Copse Corner.

The contact happens so fast - Lewis's Mercedes alongside Max's Red Bull. The touch of wheels. Then Max's car is airborne, spinning, crashing into the barriers with devastating force.

The garage erupts in chaos. Screens show the replay from every angle. Your father is immediately in discussion with the stewards.

You can't breathe. Can't move. Your eyes are fixed on the smoking wreck of Max's car, willing him to move, to get out, to be okay.

"Racing incident," Toto argues. "Lewis had the line-"

Their voices fade to background noise as you watch the medical team reach the car. Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, but you can't check it - not here, not with everyone watching.

"YN," Angela touches your arm gently. "You look pale. Maybe some water?"

You follow her away from the garage, grateful for the excuse. As soon as you're out of sight, your composure breaks.

"I don't know if he's okay," you whisper, hands shaking. "I can't- I can't check my phone, I can't ask anyone, I can't-"

"Breathe," Angela steadies you. "Just breathe."

"I should be there. I should be with him. After last night, after everything-"

"I won't say anything," she promises quickly. "But YN... this is bigger than just keeping a secret now."

"I know," you admit. "God, I know. But I can't- I can't even ask if he's okay without raising suspicions."

The race continues. Lewis gets a ten-second penalty but fights back to win. The garage celebrates, and you have to join in, have to smile and cheer while your heart is somewhere else entirely.

Hours pass with no news. Social media is full of speculation, but nothing concrete. You catch snippets of conversation - "hospital for checks" and "conscious but shaken" - but nothing official.

It's torture, pretending everything is normal. Pretending you're just concerned in a general, professional way. Pretending last night never happened, that you don't still have bruises from a different crash, that your world isn't falling apart all over again.

Finally, after what feels like years, you manage to slip away to the Red Bull motorhome.

The motorhome is quiet when you enter. GP looks up from his laptop, surprise crossing his features.

"YN? You shouldn't-"

"Please," your voice breaks. "Please, I need to see him."

GP studies you for a long moment, then sighs. "Last door on the right. But be careful - he's pretty beaten up."

You find Max lying on the small bed, eyes closed but breathing steady. The room smells of medical cream and defeat.

"Max?" Your voice is barely a whisper.

His eyes open immediately, finding yours in the dim light. Despite everything, his lips curve into a small smile.

"Two crashes in twenty-four hours," he mumbles. "Must be some kind of record."

"Don't," tears spill over finally. "Don't joke. Not now."

"Come here," he tries to move over but winces.

"Careful," you rush to his side, perching carefully on the edge of the bed. "How bad is it?"

"Everything hurts," he admits. "But nothing's broken. Well, except my championship lead."

"I was so scared," your voice breaks. "When I saw the crash, and then I couldn't- I couldn't even ask if you were okay. I had to stand there and pretend like I wasn't terrified."

"Hey," he reaches for your hand, wincing at the movement. "I'm okay. Well, relatively speaking."

"This is my fault," you whisper. "If I hadn't called Lewis last night-"

"Stop," he squeezes your hand. "This had nothing to do with last night."

"Didn't it? He was so angry this morning, about us, about having to help us-"

"Lewis and I race hard regardless of personal feelings," Max says firmly. "What happened today was racing. Stupid, dangerous racing, but still racing."

You study his face in the dim light, cataloging every bruise, every sign of pain he's trying to hide, "Max, don't you think it's time?"

"Time?"

"To tell people. About us." The words rush out now that you've started. "I can't keep doing this - watching you race and pretending I don't care, hiding how I feel, lying to everyone we know. Today made me realize… if something had happened to you, really happened…"

He's quiet for a long moment, thumb tracing patterns on your hand. "What about your father?"

"I don't care anymore. Well, I do care, but… not more than I care about you. About us." You meet his eyes. "When the season's over. Before next year starts. We tell everyone."

"You're sure?"

"Are you?"

He pulls you closer, carefully, until you're lying beside him. "I'm sure if you are."

"Even with the championship? The media circus it'll cause?"

"Especially then." He kisses your forehead. "Today… when I hit that barrier, all I could think about was you. Not the championship, not the points, just… you. And how much time we've wasted hiding."

You curl into his side, mindful of his bruises. "So we're agreed? After Abu Dhabi, whatever happens with the championship…"

"We tell everyone." He lifts your chin to kiss you properly. "No more hiding."

"Promise?" You need to hear him say it.

"Promise," he pulls you closer, careful of both your injuries. "Besides, after last night's adventure and today's crash, I think we've filled our drama quota for a while."

You stay there, tangled together in the quiet darkness, both battered from different crashes but somehow still whole.

"I should go," you whisper eventually. "Before someone comes looking."

"One of the last times we'll have to say that," he reminds you.

"Promise me something else?"

"Anything."

"No more late-night drives for a while?"

He laughs, then grimaces in pain. "Deal. Although technically, both crashes were Lewis' fault."

"Max..."

"Kidding," he kisses your forehead softly. "Kind of."

You stand carefully, already missing his warmth. "Text me when you're feeling better?"

"Text me when you're home safe," he counters.

At the door, you turn back one last time. He's watching you with those eyes that made you fall in love twice - once when you were too young to know better, and again when you were old enough to know exactly what you were risking.

"Max?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you. Even when I have to pretend I don't."

His smile, despite the pain, lights up the dark room. "I love you too. Even when Lewis Hamilton tries to kill me. Twice in twenty-four hours."

You shake your head, but you're smiling as you slip out into the night. A few more months of hiding, of pretending, of careful distances and secret meetings. Then everything changes.

You just hope you're both ready for whatever comes next.

Abu Dhabi, 2021

The final showdown. Equal points, one race to decide it all.

The morning of the race, you slip into the Red Bull garage before sunrise. Max is already there, going through his pre-race routine, but his face softens when he sees you.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, pulling you into his arms.

"Not really," you nestle into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "Too much going on in my head."

"Talk to me."

You pull back slightly to look at him. "I'm nervous. For you, for the race, for what comes after…"

"Hey," he cups your face gently. "Whatever happens today, we're in this together. Remember?"

"I know," you try to smile. "It's just… everything's going to change after today."

"Good changes," he kisses your forehead. "No more hiding, remember?"

You've had this conversation countless times over the past months, planning how you'll handle the revelation of your relationship. Your father still doesn't know, though you suspect he's noticed something's different.

"I brought you something," you reach into your pocket and pull out a small charm - a tiny silver racing car. "For luck."

Max takes it, turning it over in his hands with a soft smile. "You're my luck."

"That was incredibly cheesy," you laugh, but your heart swells.

"You love it," he pulls you closer, kissing you properly this time. "And you love me."

"I do," you whisper against his lips. "So much it scares me sometimes."

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, before reality intrudes again.

"I should go," you sigh. "There's something else I need to do before the race."

Max knows without asking. "Lewis?"

"Yeah," you bite your lip. "I can't let things end like this between us."

"Go," he squeezes your hand. "Just come back to me after?"

"Always."

Finding Lewis proves harder. He's been avoiding you since Silverstone, your relationship reduced to professional nods and carefully maintained distance. But you finally spot him in the Mercedes garage, alone with his thoughts.

"Lewis?" your voice is hesitant.

He tenses but doesn't turn around. "YN."

"I know you probably don't want to talk to me-"

"Then why are you here?"

You take a deep breath. "Because you're my brother, Lewis. Not by blood, but by choice. And I can't stand how things are between us."

He finally turns, and the pain in his eyes matches your own. "You chose him."

"I chose love," you step closer. "That doesn't mean I stopped caring about you."

"You could have told me," his voice cracks slightly. "Before Silverstone, before any of it. I thought we told each other everything."

"I was scared," you admit. "Scared of exactly this - losing you, losing my family, losing everything I've known."

"So instead you just lied? Snuck around?"

"I know it was wrong," tears prick at your eyes. "And I'm so sorry, Lewis. Not for loving him, but for hurting you. For breaking your trust."

He's quiet for a long moment, studying your face. "Does he make you happy? Really happy?"

"Yes," you whisper. "More than I ever thought possible."

Lewis sighs deeply, running a hand over his face. "Come here, little sister."

You practically fall into his arms, tears flowing freely now. He holds you tight, like when you were kids and he would protect you from everything.

"I'm still mad at you," he mumbles into your hair.

"I know."

"And I still think you're crazy."

"Probably."

"But," he pulls back to look at you, "I love you. And I miss you. And if he ever hurts you, I'll end his career so fast-"

You laugh through your tears. "There's my overprotective brother."

"Someone has to look out for you," he wipes your cheeks gently. "Even if you make it incredibly difficult."

"I'm sorry," you say again. "For everything."

"I know," he kisses your forehead. "We'll figure it out. After today."

"About that…" you hesitate. "We're planning to go public. After the race."

Lewis nods slowly. "I figured something like that was coming. The way you look at each other isn't exactly subtle."

"You noticed?"

"YN, everyone with eyes has noticed. They're just too scared of your father to mention it."

You both laugh, and for a moment it feels like before - easy, comfortable, safe.

"Lewis?" you grab his hand. "Whatever happens today… I'm proud of you. Always have been, always will be."

He squeezes your hand. "Right back at you, little Wolff. Even if you have terrible taste in men."

"Hey!"

"I'm just saying, there are other drivers-"

"Goodbye, Lewis," you start walking away, but you're smiling.

"YN?" he calls after you. "For what it's worth… he better know how lucky he is."

An hour later, you're standing in the Mercedes garage, heart in your throat, watching the screens as though your life depends on it. In a way, it does. Six years of loving Max in secret, two years of running away from it all, and now here you are - watching the man you love fight your father's driver for the championship in the most intense finale you've ever witnessed.

When Nicholas Latifi crashes, everything changes. The safety car comes out, and suddenly the garage erupts with activity. Your father's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and authoritative as he argues with race control. You've never seen him like this - the usual composed Toto Wolff replaced by someone desperately fighting against what feels like destiny shifting.

"No, no, no, Michael, that is so not right!" Your father's voice booms through the garage as the lapped cars are allowed through. You flinch at the fury in his tone, at the way he slams his headset down.

The final lap is unbearable. You watch Lewis getting hunted down by Max on fresh tires. Your nails dig into your palms, torn between family loyalty and the love you've kept hidden for so long.

When Max makes the pass, when he crosses the line as World Champion, the Mercedes garage falls silent. The contrast between the Red Bull celebrations on screen and the devastation around you is stark.

Your father looks destroyed, a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. But it's Lewis who breaks your heart - the way he sits in his car, processing what just happened, the dignity with which he eventually emerges to congratulate Max.

You find Lewis in the drivers room a few hours later, away from the cameras. His eyes are red, his shoulders slumped in a way you've never seen before.

"Lew," your voice breaks.

He looks up, and suddenly you're both crying. You wrap your arms around him as he breaks down.

"It wasn't supposed to end like this," he whispers.

"I know," you hold him tighter. "I know."

You stay with him, through the protests, through the appeals, through the obligatory congratulations he has to give. You stay because he's family, because he needs you, because some things are more important than celebration.

Through it all, you catch glimpses of Max - being crowned champion, celebrating with his team, searching the crowd with eyes that keep finding you. But you stay where you're needed most.

Hours pass before you make it to Max's hotel. The celebrations are still going on somewhere, but he's in his room when you arrive, pacing like a caged animal.

"Where were you?" he demands as soon as you enter.

"I was with Lewis."

His face darkens. "Of course you were. Consoling the Mercedes garage while I won my first championship."

"Max, don't."

"Don't what? Don't be upset that my girlfriend wasn't there to celebrate with me? That she was too busy comforting the opposition?"

"That 'opposition' is my family!" Your voice rises to match his. "Lewis is like my brother, my father is devastated-"

"Your father?" He laughs bitterly. "The same father you've been lying to for years? The one we're supposedly telling about us after this race?"

"Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"When else am I supposed to do it? When you're ready? Because I've been waiting for you to be ready since 2015!"

The words hit like physical blows. "That's not fair. You know why I left in 2018, the way you cut me off like I was nothing, it tore me apart."

"Yeah, because it got too hard. Because loving me was too complicated." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And now here we are again. I just won the World Championship, and where were you? With them."

"They're my family!"

"And what am I?" He steps closer, eyes intense. "What are we, YN? Because right now it feels like I'm still your dirty little secret."

"That's not-"

"Then prove it. Let's go tell Toto right now. Let's end this charade."

"Today? After everything that happened? Are you insane?"

"Why not today? When will it be convenient enough for you? When will loving me not conflict with your perfect Mercedes family?"

Tears are falling freely now. "You're being cruel."

"No, I'm being honest. Finally." He sits heavily on the bed. "I love you. I've loved you through everything - through you leaving, through you coming back, through all the hiding and sneaking around. But I can't do this anymore."

Your heart stops. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want all of you. Not just the parts that are convenient, not just the stolen moments between races. I want to celebrate with you when I win, hold you when I crash, build a life with you in the open." He looks at you, and you see the tears in his eyes too. "But I don't think you want that. Not really. Not enough to risk everything else."

"Max…"

"Go home, YN. Go console your father. Go be the perfect Mercedes daughter." His voice breaks slightly. "Just… don't come back unless you're ready to choose me. All of me. The rival, the champion, everything."

You stand there, frozen, both of you crying. Everything you've built, every secret moment, every whispered promise, feels like it's crumbling around you.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I know." He doesn't look at you. "That's never been our problem."

As you stand in the doorway of Max's hotel room, the weight of seven years of love, secrets, and choices bears down on your shoulders. The championship trophy gleams on the table behind him, a symbol of everything he's achieved and everything that's torn you apart.

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

DP x DC

Cackling filled the air, along with the sound of a blade slicing through the air. The whistle it made could drive you just as crazy as listening to the cackling.

Danny wasn’t sure why the man was laughing. Nothing around him was particularly funny. Blood spatters covered the cracked asphalt at Danny’s feet. Blood dripped off of his body, none of it his own.

Danny’s fingers twirled, repositioning the scythe he held, to rest on his shoulder. He surveyed the scene before him, a frown tugging down his lips.

People were standing along the streets, phones up, mouths hanging open. All of them were staring.

I didn’t think people could really see reapers. Danny mused, cackling cutting off as he studied those studying him.

It had been a few hundred years since everyone he knew had died peacefully of old age. Danny, having lived a fulfilled life, entered the Ghost Zone, prepared to be the new King, when Clockwork had merely smirked at him, eyes fond.

“What do you mean I have to serve as a reaper of souls first?”

Clockwork had been very insistent this was the way of things, but Danny was half-convinced he was making it up as he went.

Whatever gets the best timeline, I suppose. Danny looked out at the gathered crowd, then down at the twisted form below him.

“Jack Oswald White, you have been judged of sending those before their time, to the Realms Eternal. You have been found guilty of your crimes. With this slash, I, High King Phantom, Reaper of Souls, sentence you to the Nightmare Realm to be tormented until the end of Time.” Raising the scythe, Danny prepared to send the soul where it belonged.

“Wait!” A man stumbled forward through the crowd. A few people screamed as he broke through the ring, turning and running. The man was built, but what caught Danny’s eye, was the tuft of white hair on his forehead, and the feeling of death that hung around him. The domino mask was also eye-catching, but more background noise.

He stood before Danny and the condemned, drinking in the sight of the bloody man, like someone whom had been lost in the desert.

“Okay, go ahead. I just. I needed to see it.” The man puffed, domino-white eyes wide in anticipation. “Don’t worry, the other bats won’t come and ruin it. I took care of that.”

Danny cocked his head, feeling something humming in the air now that the man had settled in. The humming was bloodlust. Everyone here was eager to see this man die.

It was more than a little startling since Danny had never been seen before as the Reaper. It was more startling since most people who saw him screamed and ran away. What is wrong with these people? Where am I again? Gotham? Well the name seems to fit at least. Danny mused, before he nodded, and brought the scythe down.

*

Jason wanted to scream. Not in the “oh I’ve been hurt” or even “I’m so mad I could fill a bag with heads!” way, but the excitement, the primal feeling welling up within him didn’t want to be contained.

Oracle had reported some kind of public execution near Crime Alley. She hadn’t been able to confirm who it was for, nor who was doing it. All the cameras were bugging out in the area it was happening. Since Jason had been closest, he had managed to get there first.

In the middle of a massive crowd —and wasn’t that odd? Most people ran away from stuff like this— could just be seen an ethereal being floating above their heads. The being looked like someone about Jason’s age, but their skin glowed with an unearthly blue, and their hair, the color of starlight, moved in a way that contradicted the wind whipping everyone’s coats. The being was clad in black robes, the folds of which showed either constellations or a swirling green void that made something in Jason’s chest tighten.

And they held a massive scythe.

As Jason got closer, he heard the manic laughing, and froze.

The Joker.

Pushing through the crowd, heart hammering, Jason knew he had to— he had to do what? Save the Joker?

His earpiece made a high-pitched squeal as he broke through the crowd and saw the Joker’s body on the ground, scythe poised to finish the job.

The shriek that filled the air as the soul was sent to the Nightmare Realm, something inside Jason seemed to crack. The Reaper, High King Phantom as he had called himself, looked at Jason, and the crack felt like it wasn’t there.

I need to talk to him.

[cremeful]

AITA FOR SLEEPING WITH MY STEP SISTER AND LYING TO MY "GIRLFRIEND" ABOUT IT ? 

• r/AmItheAsshole / 16.4M Members

My girlfriend (f25) and i (m26) did causal hookups which turned into what she calls dating and what i call keeping her around for fun. She thinks everything we do is real. the dates every other month, the love you's and whatever else comes with a real relationship.

she constantly brings up wanting to meet my family and i avoid the question more times than many because meeting my family is basically a silent confirmation that our "relationship" is serious.

i know most of you reading this is probably saying to yourselves " why not breakup with her?" and i really don't have an answer to your question.

eventually i do get sick of her asking and give in and say yes, not because i came to my senses but because I'm tired of hearing the same question every other month.

The following week comes around and we are at my place saying introductions to my parents when i notice that my little (f20) sister is nowhere to be seen and before i could ask my father her whereabouts, she is running down the stairs yelling the nickname that stuck throughout our childhood, "RAFEYYYYYY!"

let me clarify a few things before i admit to fucking my sister on the internet, she is my step sister.

the dinner goes well enough for my girlfriend to stop asking about any other family gatherings but eventually she becomes skeptical of the type of relationship me and my sister have.

she constantly brings up how my sister is to attached to me, her touches are intimate for us to just be close and my sister needs to find her own friends and stop hanging around me 24/7.

i guess you could say this is a big strain in our "relationship" due to my sister always being around. We eventually end up having an argument about it, which she questions if i ever slept with my sister.

of course i did but i won't admit it to her, what fucking idiot would admit something like that? so i lied and told her "no, she is just my sister. she acts the way she does because she never had an older brother and she trusts me more than anyone." she believed it.

rafe doesn't even know why he is confiding in random strangers on the internet about him hating his girlfriend and fucking his sister. yet that doesn't stop him from posting his half confession and from reading the comments.

Read Comments.

tophat: dude. there's no way you fucking posted this.. • original poster: you see the fucking post don't you? maybankkk: where's the rest??? • original poster: ur a loser if you think i would ever post about how i fucked my sister. i don't need sick fucks like you to get any ideas about that shit.

rafe remembers every detail about that day. he had you laid out on his bed whining and panting as he left dark red and purplish marks on your collarbones, you weakly push at his shoulders trying to get him to let up on your sensitive body but he just laughs and pins your arms down.

your hips pushed up against his thigh that is slotted in between your legs, he moves away from your collarbone, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to collect his spit and smearing it against your hardening nipples, you let out a gasp, the stimulation between your cunt pressed up against his thigh and him playing with your nipples becomes to much; you've always been so sensitive.

he pushes your hips down, " always so needy." he says it tauntingly, like you're an ungrateful child. he moves from in between your legs as you were about to protest he tells you to relax and that he isn't going anywhere.

Rafe has never been this gentle or intimate with anyone let alone his girlfriend, he should feel bad about that he is cheating on his girlfriend but how can he when he has you so desperate and clinging on for more.

he is at your side now with your legs spread open, he uses his middle and ring finger to rub circles against your clit, you moan. "yeah, you feel good sweetheart?" he says it so softly, you nod as he slots his fingers in between your folds collecting the wetness and pulling away and seeing the line of slick, " oh my god.." his voice is breathless, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks on your arousal without hesitation like its the most normal thing he has done.

it was embarrassing, you were embarrassed by his actions because it was perverted, yet you don't stop him from leaning in and kissing you despite him just tasting you from your most intimate parts, he groans deepening the kiss, pressing his pelvis up against your unclothed cunt. your hands find their way into his hair, fingers become entangled as he begins to rock his hips up and down; dry humping you.

you beg him to take his boxer off so you can "feel him better" and that you "just want to be close to him" and who is he not to give you what you want? as he removes his boxers, he hears you asking if you can be on top of him.

so here you are, on top of your step brother with his cock slotted in between your dripping cunt like it belongs there. you look down to see where you two are connected and smile, "so cute, you like the way we look together huh?" rafe says it so softly as he puts his hand on your hips and guides you back and fourth, you watch as his cock disappears into your cunt and his tip bumps into your clit.

rafe is sure this is how he dies, from dry humping his step sister. the grip he has on your hips tighten as he moves your hips faster. you gasp, the burn in your stomach comes to quick, he just sat you on his cock and you're already about to cum from a few love taps by the tip of his cock. you cry out, the grip on his shoulder becomes tighter, you shake your head trying to convince yourself not to cum but rafe knows you to well " awe, come on baby. its okay, make your big brother proud."

indeed you did make him proud. so no rafe doesn't feel bad for lying to his girlfriend nor does he feel bad for giving you the intimacy and love that he is supposed to be giving his "girlfriend".

[hughes-your-daddy]

lake house

pairing: will smith x hughes!sister

warnings: slightly suggestive

summary: bringing will to the lakehouse with your brothers for the first time

“you sure they don’t mind me coming?” will asks, hand running nervously up and down your thigh as he drives the rental through the neighbourhood.

“it’s as much my home as it is theirs, so they wouldn’t have a choice. saying that, i’ve had luke nagging at me to bring you, think he’s a fan.” you smirk, seeing a slight blush creep up his cheeks.

you point him down the right street before you see the old lakehouse sit in the distance. he carefully parks up next to your brothers cars before getting out to open your door.

“thank you sir.” you giggle, an arm wrapping round your waist.

“your welcome m’lady.” he whispers, pressing a light kiss to your jaw. he moves round to the trunk to grab your bags when you jump at a voice.

“bugsy!!” you hear your older brother shout, spinning round you see luke running out with nothing in his feet, his arms wrapping you in a hug.

“hiya lukey.” you smile, returning the hug before he pulls away with wide eyes.

“is he here?” he whispers and you nod, just as will pops round from the back of the car, wheeling two suitcases.

“hi, i’m will, nice to meet-“ he starts before being cut off by luke dapping him up, nearly taking him out.

“i’ve heard so much about you man, that last goal you shot was incredible.” luke rushes out, pulling him inside the house, passing quinn and jack who side eye their younger brother.

smiling, you grab the forgotten suitcases and make your way over to the front door where quinn meets you, pulling you into a hug.

“hiya bugs.” he smiles into your shoulder before pulling away to let jack hug you.

“i see he agreed to come huh?” quinn says nodding inside the house to where will and luke are deep in conversation, before grabbing the suitcases from you and pulling them inside.

“yeh, i’m all for this,” jack starts, wrapping an arm around you shoulder as you’d walk inside, “but no funny business yeh?” he whispers, seeing your ears turn pink.

“ew jack, what the hell.” you push away from him, not being able to stop the small smile from creeping on your face as you walk over to will, moving to sit next to him, his hand meeting your in your lap.

“so guys, this is will.” you smile, your eyes not leaving him, as quinn and jack both give him a handshake, a greeting a little less crazy than luke.

“pleasure to meet you,” quinn smiles while jack just shakes his hand.

“i’m gonna take him up to my room and unpack, did yous have any plans.” you ask, moving to the suitcases while will follows you.

“just gonna take the boat out then maybe go out for some food.” quinn smiles, before the two of you disappear upstairs to unpack.

“so this is my room.” you smile, as you enter, moving over to the small dresser beneath the window that looks out over the lake, will closing the door behind him.

you begin placing some of your clothes in the small dresser, before jumping at the feeling of arms round your waist.

“i’m really grateful you brought me here.” will whispers, trailing kisses down your neck.

“mmh, of course.” you mumble, tilting your head slightly to give him more access, before pulling away from him.

you turn to see a small pout in his lips before you throw a that at him.

“oh shut up, my brothers are downstairs and their friends will be here soon, we can’t do anything.” you giggle before your being tackled, landing on your bed, with will above you.

“doesn’t mean i can’t kiss my girlfriend though.” he smirks before the two of you get lost in the kiss.

after your moment, the two of you are walking down the dock to the boat where your brothers, trevor and cole are waiting.

“finally, can we go now?” trevor groans, falling back onto his seat.

you give him the middle finger before carefully stepping on the boat, will following, setting your towels down by the others and taking a seat next to you.

he moves his arm so it sits round your shoulders, as quinn begins driving the boat. you look over to will, moving your sunglasses to your head, the small movement causing him to look over.

“oh, do i have something on my face?” he asks, confused going to rub his mouth.

“no,” you giggle, “just looking at how pretty you are.” you smirk, causing him to blush, looking down and squeezing your shoulder slightly.

quinn finds a nice open area on the lake deciding to post up, the others getting up to jump in.

you stand up, will following as he takes hit t-shirt off leaving him in his trunks. you follow suit, taking off your shirt and shorts, looking over to see his mouth hung open slightly.

“take a picture it’ll last longer.” you whisper moving past him, using your finger to close his mouth before jumping in and joining the others.

he’s quick to follow, swimming over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you really are beautiful.” he smiles, your legs unconsciously wrapping around his waist.

“knew you’d like this one.” you smile referencing to the current two piece you’re wearing.

“hey lovebirds, stop with the oogling.” cole calls out, jack splashing water in your direction.

will turns you around so you wouldn’t get any water in your face the two of you laughing.

you spend the majority of the afternoon out on the lake, swimming and wakeboarding, before quinn’s pulling the boat back up to the lakehouse.

“reservations at 7 so make sure you guys are ready.” he says to everyone as they disappear back into the house to their respective rooms.

“what kind of dress code is it?” will asks nervously fidgeting as he sits at the end of your bed. you look over from the entrance of your en-suite towel in hand.

“why are you so nervous?” you ask walking over, standing between his legs as he wraps his arms around your waist. you let your fingers comb through his hair, feeling his breathing start to even out a bit more.

“just feel like i need to make a good impression, it’s like the first time im properly meeting your family.” he sighs, resting his chin on your stomach to look up at you.

“will,” you smile moving to straddle his waist, his hands resting gently on your bum, “they love you. i know my brothers and maybe even trevor and cole can be a little intimidating but trust me they think your incredible, and you’ve met my parents before so please don’t panic.” you say softly, taking his face in your hands, seeing his move into the comfort of your palm.

“ok,” he sighs, “no panicking.” he says looking into your eyes.

“great,” you smile, quickly pecking him on the lips before moving off to go shower, hearing a small giggle come from the boy.

you quickly shower before switching with will, sitting in front of your floor length mirror, to dry and curl your hair, before unzipping your makeup bag. You’re applying your mascara when will comes out, towel wrapped around his waist.

“so dress code?” he asks, going back to his original question.

“mmh, fancy enough for a shirt but not full suit, so maybe like almost game day vibes?” you say with a small smirk knowing your favourite outfit is him on game day.

“mmh sure.” he says sarcastically being able to read your mind, before moving to his case that you’d completely forgot to unpack due to other things… and grabbing a plain white shirt, with black trousers and a black suit jackets a little bit more relaxed than his usual ones, and turning back to the bathroom.

you continue your makeup before moving over to your own case, pulling out a floor length satin slip dress and a pair of kitten heels, perfect timing for will finishing in the bathroom.

you turn seeing him in his suit, a couple buttons of his shirt undone at the top.

“you know how i said we couldn’t do anything whilst we’re here.” you say, moving over to him, gently brushing down his lapel.

“yeh, i do seem to remember.” he smirks, one hand on your waist the other gently on your ass.

“might have to change that rule.” you whisper against his lips before pulling away, causing will to gently slap your ass as you walk into the bathroom giggling.

you pull on the dress, quickly adjusting your hair before trying to reach and do the zip before realising it’s out of your reach.

“will?” you shout through the door.

“yeh baby?” you hear him reply with shuffling footsteps outside the door.

“can you come zip me up please?” you ask before hearing no the door handle click and will come in. he stands behind you, eyes locked int he mirror as he zips you up, hands lingering over your back.

“you look gorgeous.” he whispers, lips close to your neck.

“mmh, no, we need to go to dinner first.” pulling away before hearing starts peppering kisses.

you quickly grab your bag packing your essentials lipgloss and a tampon, just in case, before moving over to the door where will is still trailing with a pout.

“just dinner then we’ll have some fun.” you smile gently patting his cheek before placing a soft kiss on his lips which he returns happily.

“m’kay.” he mumbles against your lips before you’re opening the door and heading downstairs, will guiding you down holding your hand.

“they really are made for each other aren’t they.” jack says, him and quinn watching the two of you approach.

“couldn’t ask for more, he makes her happy.” quinn smiles, “you look great y/n.”

“thanks,” you smile, sitting on the couch and waiting for everyone else to get ready, “are we meeting mom and dad there?” you ask, adjusting your dress.

“yeh, i think they’re already there though.” quinn mumbles checking his phone, “yep there early.” he says showing a message from mom.

it doesn’t take long for the others to get ready and yous finally head out, quinn driving you, will and luke, jack driving cole and trevor.

you arrive at the country club, will quickly getting out to once again open your car door, holding his hand to help you step out.

“oh wait a minute.” will says once your out, blocking your front while he adjusts your dress straps for you.

“thank you.” you blush, a small smirk creeping onto his face as he takes your hand.

walking through to the restaurant you see your parents already at the table, drinks in hand.

yous all greet them before sitting down, deciding on your choices for dinner. yous have a great night, maybe even a little too much to drink, but only to get everyone feeling loose and happy.

soon, it gets to the end of the night as everyone piled out to go home. quinn and jack both had a drink so everyone’s waiting for the ubers, outside after saying goodbye to your mom and dad.

feeling the cold chill of the summer night roll upon you, you try to warm yourself back up, crossing your arms over your chest, bag slung over your shoulder.

“cold baby?” will asks, arm over your shoulders. before you even had a chance to respond he was taking off his suit jacket, draping it over your shoulders and moving to hold your bag for you, “better?” he asks holding you close.

“yeh.” you giggle feeling the effects of the many aperol spritz you drank.

finally the uber rolls up, all of you piling inside, quinn upfront, trevor, cole, jack and luke squeezed into the middle seats with you and will in the back.

you lean into him, head on his shoulder, while his arm creeps around his waist.

“tired?” he asks, moving a small bit of hair behind your ear.

you lean up to his ear, “we might have to leave our fun for tomorrow, i could so use with just sleeping tonight.” you whisper, causing a small chuckle from will, as he brings you hand up to his lips pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“whatever you want baby.” he smiles, resting his head on top of yours.

the uber pulls back up to the lakehouse, everyone quickly heading to their respective rooms. you get back to your own, closing and locking the door behind you.

you don’t even bother moving to the bathroom and just unzip your dress in the middle of the room, leaving you in only your panties before you quickly slip on one of wills t-shirts to sleep in.

“such a tease.” you hear from across the room, turning and seeing will shirtless and taking off his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

“having trouble there?” you ask as he sits back against the headboard, adjusting himself.

“well when your sexy ass girlfriend strips in front of you, it does something to a man.” he mumbles, a blush across his cheeks.

“well,” you start, moving across and climbing not his lap, “i could help you out if you want.” you whisper, a smile on your face and your lips graze his.

“please do.”

the next morning, you wake up, wrapped in wills arms still naked from the night before, to banging on your door.

“y/n hurry up, we’re leaving for breakfast in ten. you gotta tell em what you want.” quinn yells a bit more agitated than normal.

“mmh, ten more minutes.” will mumbles into your neck as he flips to lie on top of you.

“just get me whatever.” you shout back, nails scratching wills back, just how he likes you to, “don’t know why he’s so grumpy today, i haven’t even done anything.” you mumble to will, eyes dropping again.

“can you just come out, preferably dressed.” jack chimes in, making you and will shoot up, you holding the comforter over your top half.

“they heard us didn’t they?” he asks, looking over terrified.

“yeh,” you respond equally scared before the both of you break out into fits of giggles, “im still glad you’re here though.” you smile, letting the comforter drop as you grab his face to kiss him.

“mmh,” he smiles pulling away, “me too.”

[curly-fry-3]

Dean x Daughter!reader can you do this? Reader and Dean get caught in a hunt and it's a vampire or demon who wants revenge on Dean. They hurt the reader and Dean goes into protective dad mode.

𖦹Protection𖦹

summary𖦹 Dean goes crazy after hearing you got taken

pairing𖦹 Dean Winchester x Daughter!Reader

word count𖦹 1275

notes𖦹 I feel like I haven't written in forever omg I hope this is good

Dean was starting to get worried. Usually you'd be home from school by now but you're nowhere in sight. You'd been gone for an extra two hours and Dean was pacing around the tables in the library. Maybe you were just out having fun and forgot to tell him, or you're breaking rules and don't want him to know (either way you'd be in trouble) but Dean has a really bad feeling. His mind is constantly going; what if you're hurt, what if someone took you–or something.

Your location was turned off, he had already checked multiple times. Why was it off? You always kept it on, it's Dean’s number one rule. He didn't even have time to worry about you running around town disobeying him, he should be researching the demon case with Sam.

After a couple more minutes of pacing he decides to check your location again. He's shocked to find out that it's turned back on and you're a couple cities over…in a warehouse–The exact warehouse that Sam had tracked the demons to. Shit. The worst thing that could possibly happen, happened. He promised you that he would keep you safe, but you got taken while on your way home from school. 

Dean is already getting his shoes on, grabbing his gun, and knife when he gets a call from you. He quickly answers as he continues making his way out the bunker, “Y/N?”

Your shaky voice responds “Dad…I'm not hurt but I will be if you don't show up within the next two hours.”

He rushes out to the impala the second he hears your voice. He can tell you've been crying and that the call is being monitored by someone else, “sweetheart, i'm gonna be there. It's all gonna be ok. I won't let them touch you”

He can hear you take anxious deep breaths. “I'm scared, they grabbed me while I was walking–” Dean listened as the phone is taken from you and passed around the room

At this point, he is already speeding down the freeway with his phone tightly gripped up against his ear, waiting for any noise to come from the other line. He was gonna kill them. He was gonna kill them all. God, how could he let you get taken like this. He should be able to protect you, that's his job. You're scared and it's his fault. Everytime he thinks about how terrified your voice sounded, his foot presses harder on the gas.

After a couple minutes of silence, Dean hears a man's voice on the phone “you still there Dean? Oh, I can picture your face now. You look a little constipated when you get angry”

“You touch her and your dead” He seethes 

The demon laughs lightly, “We’ll just have to see about that, won't we? I have a feeling shes a screamer”

He presses harder on the gas and continues driving with a white knuckle grip on the wheel, “You won't be getting to test that theory”

The demon sighs out in annoyance, “Really dean? You wanna be the one giving orders when I have your daughter tied up? I thought you were smarter than that. Just remember, you only have an hour left” 

The line goes dead and Dean throws his phone across the bench seat in anger, breaking it. He just has to focus on getting there and saving you, he can wallow in his guilt when he knows you're ok.

After about another forty minutes of driving, Dean swerves into the dirt lot in front of the warehouse and storms in, stabbing every demon who interrupts his path. He has to find you and get you out, he doesn't need you to see him ripping that asshole demon limb from limb. 

He was in the middle of taking his knife out of the chest of a demon when he heard you whimpering and being told to shut up. He rushes in the direction of your voice and makes his way into a large open room with dirty concrete floors. He immediately notices you tied up with rope in a chair in the center of the room. There was one other demon with you, probably the man on the phone. 

You notice him immediately and yell out “Dad!”

The demon turns toward you and covers your mouth with duct tape. “Do you know how many times ive had to tell her to shut up? You winchesters are so annoying” He asks Dean

He grips his knife tighter “you said you wouldn't hurt her if I came, im here, so back off”

The demon ignores his request and stays firmly planted in his standing position next to the chair, “always so demanding, gets me hot”

Dean grits his teeth “did you kidnap my daughter just to flirt with me? What the hell do you want?”

The man huffs out in fake exhaustion, “Revenge, obviously?”

“I dont want to burst your bubble, but I have no clue who the fuck you are” He states firmly

The demon gasps dramatically “You wound me. Did our long, sexually charged, wrestle match back in boston mean nothing to you”

He rolls his eyes angrily “buddy I don't remember you”

“You will after this” the demon then pulls a knife from behind his back and brings it up to your neck, putting just enough pressure to barely break skin. “Now, i'm gonna gut her infront of you”

Dean watches as the knife presses harder against you while deciding what would be the safest way for you to get out of this. He watches your pained expression as you frantically try to breathe through the duct tape. He pulls his arm back and uses all his strength to throw the knife into the demon's chest. The man falls to the floor with a pained gasp before the light flickers and the demon is officially dead. 

As soon as the man drops to the ground, Dean races over to you. Kneeling on the ground, he carefully pulls the tape away from your mouth. You take a deep breath when your mouth is no longer obstructed. “Dad!”

“Sweetheart, you're ok, I'm here, they're all dead. You're safe” He comforts as he unties the rope around your wrists and ankles.

The second you’re free from the rope, you throw your arms around Dean and melt into his arms. He can feel you crying against his shoulder, wetting his shirt sleeve. He kisses your forehead, pulling you further into his embrace while rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I'm here, princess. We can go home now. You're not gonna leave my sight, ok?”

You take quick, shaky breaths, trying to calm your crying, and nod against his shoulder. “Yeah, I wanna go home”He tugs you closer to his chest, with his arm supporting under your knees, and picks you up bridal style. You clutch onto the lapels of his jacket as he walks you out to the car and puts you in the passenger seat. About halfway into the drive back, you're asleep against him with his arm wrapped around you, playing with your hair to help calm you down. For the next couple of weeks you wouldn't leave Dean's side; following him around the bunker, sitting in the passenger seat every time he drove, and sleeping with him every night. That night was probably the scariest moment of both your lives, and Dean knows he can never let it happen again. For the time being, he’ll homeschool you to make sure you're safe, but he hopes eventually he can give you the normal life you deserve.

sorry if there are any typos

@areswasneverhere @mfstargirlsworld @childofjove

[voidcat]

kaiser puts his tattooed hand anywhere on you (your neck especially) and takes pics of it to make it his lockscreen so that everyone can see (<- his own way of paying u back for the marks you left on his neck)

um excuseme??? why are u on my ass??? coming to MY HOUSE and ATTACKING me!??!!!?! do i need to get a restraining order against you two huh is that it....... big sigh uhhh whatever notes: michael kaiser x gn! reader. suggestive content, mdni. what rye has said ig.. i elaborated a little

Michael Kaiser is a man who knows best to get under someone's skin. From countless interactions you've observed over the time be it during matches or behind the scenes- that, you're certain.

And from experience too, much to your chagrin.

A pain in the ass and a walking migraine inducing component as he may be, there is something to him that you always find yourself in the same room, drawn to your demise- not like a moth, no, you'd like to hold hope that whatever runs between the two of you isn't somthing as blinding and vulnerable as that- but you cannot deny there is still an attraction none the less.

Analytical and always knowing where to hit where it hurts most, everything he does is with a purpose. Be it the way he he behaves, speaks with people, which name he uses, whether he gives in to their desperation for a physical connection or remain a cold composure. This, of course, ends with an extremely touchy Kaiser on your side that you've learnt to make peace and live with.

It's almost depressing to think about it, really. How your resolve couldnt hold out any longer and you admited defeat on this front. But what's to follow is somewhat nice, you try to comfort himself. Always a hand around your waist, on your thigh, fingers intervining with yours-- a constant reminder that he is right besides you and he'll never leave you.

Other behaviours though, begin to present after a while- a recent development, you write them off as. Now his hands find your shoulders, kneading into your skin like you're dough for him to shape, placed on your abdomen and rubbing gentle circles, a finger at the nape of your neck, playing with the sensitive skin there; the last one he seems to favor more than the rest. You don't really alert to the action until you catch sight of his phone one day.

For someone who likes to show off, it hadn't even fazed you one bit when you saw a photo album dedicated to the two of you that's not quite safe for public eye. This is Kaiser after all, every oddity he seems to display soon become the new default in your mind- ruining your experience of the world.

So when your thumb scrolls down the numerous photos you don't even recall being taken- mostly without either of your faces but his hand and parts of your body as clear as day- you cannot even find it in you to react.

Your finger comes to a stop as you open a photo in particular. His hand wrapped around your neck, thumb pressing right below your carotis artery, from his rough hold parts of your skin already flushed and his index seeming to be lightly trailing your collarbones with his middle finger to keep company. As you stare at the photograph, you can feel his hand on you again, his digits dancing on your neck, moving up and down slowly, making sure to idle and stroke the areas where you strongly react. Chuckling at the sounds and twitches you make whenever he pinches and presses against a sensitive spot. You'd think maybe this is his payback, or just a preliminary to it.

You've got to admit, from an artist viewpoint, the photos do look.. pleasing to the eye. An aesthetic sense to them, the colorful dark lightning only adding to the atmosphere.

With a sudden shake of your hand, you close the app and put down his phone in a rush but his laughter reaches you before. "What were you staring at so intensely, hm? Found something you like?"

[justmeinadaze]

November Rain (Part 6)(Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: 😈

Warnings: Older (Late 30s) Daddy Eddie/ Young (early 20s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, ALL the dirty talk, Breeding Kink (yes you read that correctly), Y/N in lingerie, aftercare always. FLUFF, lots of fluff in this one to cushion some of the angst. These two love each other very much <3.

ANGST! *Shoots an angsty basketball into an angsty net on an angsty court*

Y/N's parents show up and have some words for them both (give an ultimatum, Eddie struggles to get his daughter to talk to him after the events of the last chapter, reader gets spicy with Ava :), mentions of the readers weight by an asshole (Eddie defends her honor), Eddie talks more about his past with his dad (brief mentions of abuse) and his marriage to his ex. CLIFFHANGER ENDING!

Word Count: 7481

Series here

Loud pounding on Eddie’s apartment door startled you both as you bolted up right in bed. 

“Stay here.”, the boxer commanded as he hastily pulled on his sweatpants and handed you one of his shirts from the floor. 

It had been about a week since your secret was exposed and neither of you had been able to get ahold of Paige. You had called, text, emailed, and even wrote physical letters to no avail. Her father every other day went to knock on the apartment door but no one answered. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson, but she doesn’t want to speak to you…either of you.”, her boyfriend sighed. “I can let her know again that you called though.”

“Please, Eli, I just…is she ok at least?”

As Eddie’s sad eyes glare into the void of the carpet, you rub your palm along his back and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“She’s…surviving…Honestly, sir, it’s not my place to get in the middle. All I know is she’s hurting and I need to protect her. If she doesn’t want to talk to you or Ms. Davis right now then it is what is.”

“Yeah…yeah…thanks. You’re, um, you’re a good kid. I know with you she’s safe.”

“Always, sir.”

Ava constantly blew up his phone asking on any updates about Paige to the point where you felt like you had to get involved. 

“Ms. Davis. Eddie isn’t here right now. How can I help you?!”, you practically shout as you answer his phone before he can. 

“YOU can’t help me, Y/N. You’ve done enough. I need to talk to my husband.”

“EX-husband remember? You have no reason to be bothering him anymore.”

“Listen, bitch. Edward may be fucking you but that doesn’t give you license to sit at the grownups table. You’re a little girl playing house. Now…put him on the phone or else—”

“Or else what, AVA? After everything I’ve been through you think I’m afraid of you—No, Eddie. I got this—You think you can raise your voice or call me names and think that will intimidate me in some way? No…and let’s not forget…I’m not the only whore at the ‘grownups table’. Stop. Calling. Eddie will reach out to you when he gets any news.”

Without waiting for an answer, you hung up the phone.

“Jesus Christ. Sometimes I forget how much of a badass you are.”, the boxer swoons as he wraps his arms around you. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m sorry she said—”

Your lips on his quickly silence him. 

“You don’t have to apologize for her, baby. Not anymore.”

The pounding echoed through the apartment once more except this time it was followed by a loud voice shouting, “I know my daughter is there! Open this fucking door or I swear to God I will break it down!”

“Dad?”

Eddie’s eyes meet your confused ones before running around the bed and cutting off your walk towards the living room. 

“Wait! Hang on, honey. He seems riled up. Let me answer the door but I want you to stay behind me, ok?”

“Ok. Eddie?”, you call, grabbing his hand as he turned around and pulling him towards you to give him a soft kiss. “I love you…no matter what…”

With a tender smile, he pushes your hair behind one of your ears.

“I love you to, Y/N.”

Exhaling, you watched as his expression hardened and he slowly maneuvered to the front door, turning the knob to greet the chaos on the other side. 

“Can I help you?”

“Where is she?”, your dad growled, pushing on the wood and past the metalhead to let himself inside with someone your boyfriend assumed was your mom. “Y/N! Get your things! We’re leaving right now!”

“What? Why? How did you two know where I was?”

“We called your roommate because you haven’t been answering your phone. She enlightened us on some of your extracurricular activities.”, your mother sneered as she sized Eddie up with distain. “We thought you were making things work with Bradley?”

“What would make you think that?”, you answer sassily as they glare your way. “Ah, I see. You’re talking to everyone but me.”

“You don’t answer your phone!”

“I’ve got a lot going on right now, mom!”

“Hey! Don’t speak to her that way!”, your father yells causing your boyfriend to place himself directly in front of you. “As for you, you stay the fuck away from her. You should be ashamed! You’re older—"

“What does my age have to do with me loving her or her loving me?”

“This is not love. This is a rebound. You just got out of a relationship and YOU just got divorced.”

At your mother’s words, Eddie chuckled under his breath as he shook his head. 

“I see my daughter had a lot to say. I apologize for that as that wasn’t her place. Add in the fact that she is extremely angry right now—”

“She has every right. She was your child’s best friend.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, Paige is in her twenties so she isn’t a child and neither is your daughter. When we met we had no idea that either of us knew her. I just knew I fell for a beautiful woman on a bad date at my boxing match.”

“That’s another thing. Do you think he can support you as a boxer?”

“I don’t NEED him to support me, dad, but we do support each other. He’s amazing at what he does and I’m proud of him.”

“God, when did you become so stupid?!”

“Don’t talk to her like that.”, Eddie hissed. “I may not be a rich man but I have a steady income and a huge match coming up in Vegas that will lead to more financial opportunities down the line.”

“Great and when you die after being knocked out at your age what then?! Hm?! Who will be there for her?”

“I’m not a geriatric, sir. I’m still in my 30s for God’s sake. I still have many years of boxing ahead of me.”

This isn’t a joke, son.”, your father sighs. “Have you thought about all this, Y/N? What if he got hurt? What if he had permanent damage where you had to take care of him for the rest of his life? What if he died… you would have nothing. You would have wasted your time opening your legs for a man who gave you nothing except the title of slut!”

The growl that left Eddie’s chest was deep and guttural as he took a confident step towards your dad. 

“Sir, with all due respect, that will be last time you say anything like that towards Y/N. If you do it again I’m going to ask you to leave.”

Both men stare at each other, neither wanting to back down. 

“We haven’t talked about it but…I do worry about him…every time he enters the ring. Every hit he takes kills me as someone who loves him very much but, dad, I see how hard he trains and all the precautions he takes to make sure that’s he’s safe. God forbid…he ever got seriously injured though…I would be there…no questions asked.”

“Y/N, honey, there are so many factors working against you.”, your mom began in a gentle yet slightly condescending tone. “However crass, your father brought up some good points. This man has already lived a whole life and had a whole other family. Your life is just beginning… how long do you see this relationship lasting?”

“Longer than yours.”, you sass causing your father to straighten as Eddie did the same. “His new, happier life is just beginning to and I want to be a part of that…as his wife…”

The long-haired boy’s head swiveled to face you at your words as a small smile flickered across his lips. 

“Do you mean it?” When you aggressively nod, Eddie yanks you to his chest and you circle your arms around his waist. “I’m going to get you a ring, sweetheart, I promise and I’ll start saving immediately so you can have the fanciest wedding you deserve.”

“Baby, I don’t need all that. It could be in a courthouse with overalls and I’d be happy.”, you giggle through tears that began to fall. “As long as I’m with you.”

“I forbid it.”, your dad spat in anger.

“Noted.”, you growl in equal measure. “That’s not going to stop me from being with the man I love.”

“If you go through with this, Y/N, you will NOT have our support.”, your mom added. “You would never hear from us again and will be cut off completely.”

“Ma’am.”, Eddie cuts in before you can speak. “Please don’t do that. My mother died when I was young and I haven’t spoken to my father in over twenty years. It’s been over a week since I’ve heard from my daughter and…and it kills me. In all those cases, I had zero control but you do. If you cut her off just because she loves me…it will haunt you.”

Your parents exchange a glance as the silence hangs in the air for moment and your dad finally speaks. 

“What’s it going to be, Y/N? Are you coming with us or staying here with him?”

Even as your heart breaks, your features remain stoic as you take Eddie’s hand and wrap your arm around his. 

“I love him, dad, and I’m staying.”

“So be it.”, he sighs, collecting your mother’s hand and stomping out the front door. 

As soon as it shuts, your head hangs and the boxer immediately collects you in his arms to carry you to the couch. 

“Everything is going to be ok, honey. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. They’ll come around I’m sure.”, he coos gently as he pets your head, playing with your hair.

“I’m sorry they said all that stuff about you.”, you cry as you lean back to look at his face. “I meant what I said though, Eddie. If anything ever happened to you…you know I’d take care of you.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know. I, um, we probably should talk about, um…I mean you’ve never mentioned starting a family with me. Even though your mom was right, I guess, I have had…I don’t fucking know…what I’m trying to say is…I would love having that life again. I would love…having a family…a kid with you..”

“You know, you’re cute when you get all nervous.”, you tease as he rolls his eyes and lightly spanks your behind. “I would love to have your kid.”

“Yeah?”, he asks, quirking his eyebrow in amusement. “Give us a chance to play around with a breeding kink.” Eddie laughs out loud at his own joke but you see it almost immediately, how quick his face clouds over worry as if he crossed a line. More damage control from how his ex made him feel like he couldn’t be himself. “I’m just kidding.”

Softly smiling, you grabbed his chin with your fingers and tilted his head till his eyes met yours. 

“Were you? Or does the idea of coming inside of me till you breed me genuinely turn you on?”

“Fuck me, you are perfect.”

###################

You watch from your spot on the floor by the wall of mirrors as Eddie continues to train for his fight. For the past couple of days since you arrived in Vegas, you had been doing work for your own job in the hotel while they went over their strategy and moves within the gym a few floors down. 

Today, however, he insisted you come which you definitely didn’t mind. 

His gorgeous chocolate eyes would zero in as he punched the pads in his coach’s hands or the bag in front of him and the muscles in his arms would tense as his fist flew. Sweat would cling to the small of his back and all you wanted to do was wrap your limbs around him while pressing your face into his spine. 

“GOOD! Good, Eddie!”, the man in front him praised as he patted his boxer’s bicep. “Alright, tonight you’re doing the press conference. Just answer a few of the questions and all that fun stuff—”

“Pfft fun for you. I don’t like all the attention. Not like that anyway.”

“Said the former rock star.”, you teased and he stuck out his tongue your way.

“It’s very simple and then after you guys can explore the city. I want you to get a good night’s sleep and then tomorrow I want you at the stadium by 4pm. Ya hear?”

“Yes, sir. I will be there.”

After his coach leaves, Eddie helps you to your feet before tenderly kissing your lips. 

“As much as I enjoy watching a geriatric old man practice…”, you joke as he rolls his eyes. “…why did you want me here for this?”

Smirking deviously, he reaches behind a few of the weight racks to produce a big white box with a purple bow. 

“I got you something to wear to the press thing.”, he beams, watching your face as you carefully open the contents. 

Within was a dress that matched the box it was housed in, completely white with a purple belt that wrapped around your beautiful, curvy waist. After clearing his throat, you glance Eddie’s way to see him holding up a pair of gorgeous purple heels that had you sighing in pleasure. 

“Baby…”

“I know, I know…but I saw it in the store and I thought you would absolutely rock this ensemble. I mean, you look beautiful in everything but—”

Your lips on his cut him off as he chuckled and cupped your face in his palms. 

“Go get ready. I’ll meet you in the lobby in about an hour.”

***

“You got this, honey.”, you whisper as you rub his shoulders while he glares out at the audience he was currently waiting to be introduced to. 

When you came out of the elevator to meet him, you half expected him to just be in a polo and jeans since the conference wasn’t formal by any means but when he turned to meet the sound of your shoes clacking along the floor, you couldn’t help but lightly whine at the man in the suit before you. 

“Eddie…you look so good.”

“Me?”, he breathily laughed as he tilted down to give you a soft kiss. “Look at you, pretty girl. I feel like a kid whose uncle got him ready for the neighbor’s party.”

“No!”, you giggle as your palm runs down his chest along his suit jacket. “You look perfect.”

“SPEAKING of uncle…”

When he gestures to the side, Wayne grins as he comes up to greet you, grunting slightly when you surprise him with a big hug. 

“Hey, sweetheart. That dress looks stunning on you. I helped him pick it out by the way.”

“Liar.”, Eddie teases as his uncle tosses him an equally playful but stern glare.

“Thank you so much. You’re one to talk. I can see where Eddie gets his good looks.”

“Oh, Ed, I like her.”, Wayne smiles, extending his elbow for you to loop your arm through.

“There’s way more people than I thought there would be.”

“I know but don’t focus on them, sweetie. Just focus on me and Wayne. Don’t talk to all those strangers…talk to us.”

A heavy exhale leaves him as he fully closes the curtain you two were hiding behind to give you his full attention. 

“Before I go out there, there’s something I wanted to give you. My uncle brought this from Hawkins and said it belonged to my mother. I wanted to get you a ring that was special because, baby, you’re so special to me and not like any girl I’ve ever met.”

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

Digging into his coat pocket, he produced a gold band with a modest sized blue diamond in the middle.

“I didn’t do this part properly but you deserve it. I love you so much, Y/N, and you mean so much to me.” Taking your hand in his, he descends to one knee. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes of course, you dork.”, you cry as your wrap your arms around his neck and he stands lifting you off your feet. 

As soon as he slides the ring on your finger, you cup his face in your hands and kiss his lips. 

“Aw, isn’t that cute.”, a man coos as he strolls casually into the area with an entourage behind him. “Who is this, Mr. Munson? Your fiancée, I imagine.”

“Uh, yeah, this is my…my fiancée Y/N.”, Eddie glows at the word. “Y/N, this is the man I’ll be fighting, Shaun Downey.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

When he goes to shake your hand, something passes through you intuition that has you thinly smiling before letting him go to place yourself beside the man you love. 

“Alright, well, lovely to see you both and don’t worry, it’s really easy. Just answer some questions and exchange some playful banter. Smile and pose for a picture and then boom you’re done.”

“Eddie, be careful with him.”, you whisper as soon as Shaun is out of ear shot. “Something feels off about it… he reminds me of…Brad when I first met him.”

“Oh, baby, don’t tell me that or I may accidently kill him.”

Smirking at his joke, you give him one final kiss and go to find your seat beside Wayne. 

When the press conference began it genuinely was pretty casual with photographers flashing pictures while the announcer spoke about each boxer’s stats. His opponent seemed to be about where Eddie was in terms of strength and number of wins but what gave you pause were the questions that followed. 

“Mr. Downey, how does it feel to finally be back in the ring after your suspension a few months ago?”

“It feels amazing, if I’m being honest, and to be fighting someone with the…ha…advanced caliber of Mr. Munson here…is going to be a delight.”

“Mr. Munson, any response?”

While Eddie calmly answers with his trademark brand of snark, you google on your phone why the other boxer was suspended, flashing the phone to Wayne who’s eyebrows furrow with worry. 

“Ah ha! Wonderful, wonderful. How has training been, Mr. Downey?”

“Being suspended did allow me time to fully zero in and get my act together. We went full Rocky, you know; running upstairs and hills, drinking eggs, and hitting meat.”, Shaun laughs. 

“What about you, Mr. Munson?”

“Oh, you’ve definitely been doing some weightlifting, haven’t you?”

Eddie’s whole demeanor shifts as he sits up straighter and leans into the microphone. 

“I definitely have…at the gym, around my apartment, and anywhere else I can get my reps in. A real man can do that.”

“Well, you have to be careful, Munson. At your age, too much weight can really flatten you out.”

“You know what.”, the metalhead replies firmly. “Everyone keeps bringing up my age which in this sport I realize makes me seem old and unfit but I’ve had just as many wins as these younger guys and also managed to nab a knockout of a woman. Now, bring up weights again, and I’ll knock your ass out here and now.”

Cameras started flashing while both men glared at each other before Shaun chuckled under his breath and both men rose to pose for photos. 

***

“Hey, are you alright?”, you ask after quickly running backstage to comfort him. When he didn’t answer, you could tell he was still extremely angry and you circled your arms around him as you press your face into his chest. “It’s ok, Daddy. Everything’s ok.”

“Well done, Munson!”, Shaun shouted excitedly as he ran towards the other man. As soon as his hand touched his shoulder, however, Eddie swiftly turns around, moving you backwards, and shoving the boxer roughly away. “The fuck?!”

Everyone promptly kicked into gear with both men’s coaches placing themselves between them while Shaun’s friends held him back and Eddie’s uncle gripped his shoulder. 

“If you ever talk about my girl again, I don’t care how many people are in the room or how many reporters are watching, I’ll kick your fucking ass then and there!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! That was just banter, Munson! I was trying to get a rise out of you!”

“You got your fucking wish, asshole!”

“Edward!”

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!”, he shouts at Wayne causing you to jump at the outburst.

The room because silent and Shaun yanks his arms out of his friend’s holds, assuring them his fine as he steps closer. 

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Fuck you.”, you spit. “Apology not accepted.”

Laughing, he shakes his head and disappears with his crew.

“I’m sorry, Wayne, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know, son, I know.”, his uncle comforts as he pulls his nephew into his embrace. 

“Did you know Shaun Downey was suspended for un-sportsman like conduct?”, you growled at his coach. “He punched another boxer after the bell and put him in the hospital.”

“Yes…I was made aware of that.”

“Did you tell Eddie?”

“Y/N, it’s going to be just like any of his other fights—”

“Except he’ll be fighting this narcissistic psychopath!”

“With all due respect, honey, he’s a boxer and you aren’t. You’re a bit out of your depth here.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.”, Eddie hissed he stepped towards you both. “She has every right to have an opinion about this. And no, baby, I didn’t know.”

“So what, Ed, you’re not going to go through with this?!”

“I didn’t say that but after everything I just experienced, I may need to consider a new coach and manager.”

With that, he intertwined his fingers with yours and walked with you towards the car.

#################

You can’t help but smile as Eddie continues playing with your hair while you press up further into his side and you both stare out into the Vegas skyline. He had just treated you to a fancy dinner and expensive champagne that had you radiating with a happiness you had never known before. 

After you two finished your meal, he escorted you to the balcony where you sat on the bench so he could smoke while you two held each other, watching the sun set. 

“This place is actually beautiful from up here.”, he hums before blowing smoke towards the sky. “Every time I’ve ever been here was with my father and it was never fun.”

“Eddie—”

“I’m sorry if I scared you today.” 

“Baby, what are you—?”

Removing his arm from around you, the boxer leans his elbows on his knees as his eyes stare into the void of the concrete below him. 

“That’s not normal for me…yelling at Wayne the way I did. That fuckin’ asshole…he reminded me of my dad. He used to say underhanded shit like that all the time and then brush it off like it was nothing. Then, my uncle said my name the way Allen used to and I just…”

“Eddie, it’s ok—”

“It’s not ok!”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me?!” At your outburst, the man exhaled smoke before tossing the cigarette over the balcony rail. “What Shaun Downey did wasn’t ok. What your father did to you and your mom wasn’t ok. You getting defensive and trying to protect me? That’s ok.”

When his eyes meet yours, you lean forward and gently kiss his shoulder as you rub his back. 

“I didn’t see it that way…”

“What?”

“Me protecting you. When Ava and I were married we fought a lot…verbally…I would never…”

“I know, Eddie.”, you murmur. 

“One night I tried to find our spark again and took her to the bar we used to go to when we were kids. Some fucker passed by our pool table and grabbed her ass.”, he growled. “I punched him and tried to get him to apologize but Ava left to wait by the car. She screamed at me the entire way back home…said I should have left it alone and that I was a loose cannon…”

“Like your father?” You sigh when he nods. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I know I wasn’t there but if some asshole grabbed my ass I wouldn’t mind if you knocked him out. I mean, I probably would have already but…” When he laughs, you smile as you reach up to caress his face. “You’re not like him, Eddie, and again I know I wasn’t there for your marriage but the man I’ve gotten to know and love is a good, caring, protective person.”

Softly smiling, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and playfully yanks you to his side to kiss your forehead.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Come on, freak.”, the metalhead chuckles, taking your hand, and pulling you to your feet. “I have a surprise for you and then we can go back to the hotel.”

***

“Alright, keep them closed!”

“Eddie!”, you giggle. “Even if my eyes were open your hands would be blocking everything!”

Keeping a firm grip with your palms over the ones he has making sure you don’t peak; he guides you into a room that makes you smile when you smell the hint of flowers.

“It smells good in here.”

“Oh good. I was worried my smoke smell would overpower everything.”, he teases before placing you somewhere and letting you go to back away a few steps. “Ok, sweetheart…open your eyes.”

Slowly, you do what he commands, your smile faltering a bit when you look around to see a room full of pews to your right and an archway decorated in white flowers to your left where a man with a book was waiting with a small grin. Behind Eddie stood Wayne, who gave you a subtle nod and smile of his own as he carefully watched your reaction. 

“What…what is this?”

“You said you didn’t care if we got married in overalls at a courthouse but, Y/N, you deserve so much more than that. I know I’m…we’re…moving a bit fast here but I love you so much and I want the world to see that to.” As he spoke, your head hung as you lightly began to cry, worrying him as he stepped forward to lift your chin with his fingers. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, baby. I meant what I said about saving if you wanted something bigger.”

“Your…your daughter should be at her father’s wedding…”, you whisper, breaking his heart in half as he tilts forward to rest his forehead on yours and takes your hands in his to bring them to his lips. 

“I tried to call her, Y/N; her and your parents. I wanted you to have someone here behind you or beside you. Your parents just reiterated what they said before. Honestly…Wayne is the only person that answered my calls and said he’d come.”

His Uncle pats his shoulder and hands him a white veil that Eddie carefully places on your head, trying desperately not to mess up your hair. 

“I wanted her here to, honey, and I tried everything but I told you…I’m not sorry for falling in love you. I will never apologize for that. I’m hoping and praying one day she’ll understand… that your parents will understand… until then though, baby, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Glancing towards the man you now realize is the officiant, you lightly laugh as you wipe your eyes. 

“Those aren’t bad vows…”

Eddie’s face promptly relaxes in relief as he laughs along with you and you reach behind him to take the bouquet Wayne had been hanging on to until you were ready. 

“You told my parents you fell for me the moment you saw me from the ring. I think…I think I did to. I say I think because I saw you looking at me but I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but when I did at that bar…I was so elated. From the moment I met you, Eddie, I felt safe with you. I know everything going on is a bit chaotic but I promise how I feel about you will never change. I’ll never hurt you like she did and… I guess what I’m trying to say is…you’re safe with me to.”

Nodding, a tear leaves his eye as he cups your cheek to bring your lips to his. 

“Do you have the rings?”, the man asks making you two laugh when Wayne makes a little op noise and searches his pockets before producing a box that he hands to Eddie. 

After exchanging your “I do’s” and placing the bands on each other’s fingers, you are pronounced husband and wife while the people in the room clap. 

Taking you in his arms, your now husband playfully dips you as he passionately kisses your lips. 

################

“Wait now, sweetheart.”, Eddie lightly scolds while grabbing your bicep. 

As soon as the hotel room door clicks open, the boxer lifts you in his strong arms and carries you across the threshold to the bed where he gently tosses you before crawling up the length of your body. 

“Oh! With all this, I forgot I brought a gift for you.”

“Baby, how about you give it to me later.”

Pushing at his chest with your palm stops his needy kisses along your skin making you softly laugh at his earnest energy. 

“Trust me, Daddy. You want this gift now. Go ahead and get undressed. I’ll be right back.”

You smirk his way as he bites his bottom lip and his eyes follow you on your short walk to the bathroom. You can’t help but giggle and shake your head when you hear him sloppily tear off his suit before tossing it to the side. 

Even after you put the present you got for him on, you wait a couple more minutes to build on the tension as you watch his leg bounce through the clouded glass along the bathroom door. 

When you finally emerged and his eyes landed on you, you knew you selected the right thing. Since this was a big fight for him and coming to Vegas was technically your first vacation together, you wanted to get some lingerie you thought he (and you) would enjoy. 

Eddie’s beautifully expressive chocolate eyes raked along your curvy form, starting from the black corset that had floral lace print and a bow positioned perfectly between your breasts down to the straps holding up your see-through stockings. Leaning against the doorframe, you showed off how the garment barely covered your behind as the little hooks connected to your stockings struggled to pull the fabric as far down as it could go. 

“Holy shit.”, he breathed as you slowly began to step towards him. “No, no, baby. Stay—fuck—stay right there.”

After his command, the metalhead slid to his knees and maneuvered his body till he was directly in front of you. Your palm reached out to touch his face and in return he heavily sighed as he kissed your skin. 

“Do you like what I got you, Daddy?”

“I do, beautiful. Jesus… I’m such a lucky man to have you as my wife.”

“That’s right, baby. I’m yours. I belong to you.”

While you were speaking, his hands roamed your voluptuous form and at your last sentence, his head fell against your belly as he pressed his lips against the fabric. 

“Say it again.”

Taking a hold of his chin, you lifted his face so his glassy eyes could meet yours.

“I belong to you, Eddie Munson.”

A giggle escapes you as he aggressive tugs your hand and guides you to the edge of the mattress before pushing himself up to kiss your lips. With a firm grip on your knees, the man opened your legs wide and almost too tenderly trailed feathery light kisses along your thigh. 

“Please, Daddy.”, you beg and without hesitation he obliges.

Almost like a man possessed, his tongue and mouth move with an intensity you had never experienced with him. The organ between his teeth flicked along your clit, up and down before closing his lips around it till coming off with an obscene pop to repeat the process. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing his head as close to you as possible and he hummed at the feeling causing your eyes to roll. 

It doesn’t take you long to fall over the ledge and you scream his title as you cum hard. Without missing a beat, Eddie lifts you further up the mattress, shoving his fingers into your mouth that you eagerly accept. Keeping your legs open with his knees, he utilizes the digits you generously coated with your saliva and guides them into your heat. 

“You look so fucking sexy, baby, I can’t look away. I’m forcing myself to take my time because I want to fucking pound you into the bed till your dripping my cum and you can’t walk straight. You’d fucking wince with every step into that arena tomorrow and everybody will know who made you feel good.”

“Daddy.”, you whine against his lips at his words as his fingers curl inside of you and your eyes flutter shut. Your body fully collapses and he follows you down with his forehead pressed firmly against yours.

“Fuck, my dirty girl. You’d like that wouldn’t you? People would ask if you’re ok and you would tell them your husband took care of you.”

“My…husband…”

“Tell me your name, sweetheart.”

“Y/N…fuck…”

“You can do it, pretty girl. Tell Daddy your name.”, he encouraged and as his pace quickened the squelching noise of your slick filled the room. “Y/N what?”

“Y/N… Munson…fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Say it again, baby.”

“Y/N Munson! Please!” At your pleas, your hand clung to his wrist as the coil snapped. “Y/N Munson… I’m…I’m your wife…Y/N…Munson.”

Eddie smiles softly as you pant out your words, carefully removing his fingers and holding you tightly to him as he gently kissed you while allowing you to come back down. 

“Yeah, you are. Y/N Munson… my beautiful wife… I love you, honey.”

“I love you to.”

“Are you ready for Daddy, baby girl?”, he whispers, chuckling when you nod. “Come here.”

Pulling you on top of him, his large palms cup your cheeks as you straddle his waist. 

“Fuck, baby.”, the boy beneath you whimpers as your rub your pussy lips along his shaft, smearing your arousal. “Maybe w-we can do that experiment I mentioned.”

It took you a moment but when it finally hit you, your breathy laugh warmed his face as he smiled up at you. 

“You wanna breed me, Daddy?”

At your words, you felt his length lightly twitch. 

“I do, but first Daddy wants to feel you cum. Go ahead, sweetheart, and ride my cock.”

Reaching between your bodies, you held him steady as you gradually sunk down onto him, biting your bottom lip while enjoying the feeling him stretching you open. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your form as you moved, his hands digging into your hips as he guided your movements. Occasionally his palm would spank your behind making you moan loudly as you bounced down harder against him. 

“Just like that, Y/N, fuck. Can you feel me in your stomach, baby? R-Right here?” You nod and in your blissed out state he decides to test some of the waters, placing his hand directly on your lower belly. “Imagine me filling you up so completely, we put a baby in there. You’d look so fucking beautiful, honey.”

Your whole body trembles at the notion as you fall against him and he promptly takes over wrapping his arms around you as he thrusts his hips roughly. 

“Cum for me, Mrs. Munson. Come all over my cock.” The coil snaps and you muffle your screams into his chest as he fucks you through it. “Good girl. Such a good girl, baby.”

Flipping you both over, he tenderly pets your head as he kisses your lips, lazily pumping his hips till you were ready. 

“I want you to cum, Daddy.”, you whisper as the tip of your nose grazes his. “Pretend I’m not on my pills anymore…and we’re trying… fuck me hard till you cum so deep inside of me there’s no way it wouldn’t take.”

A shaky, pleasure filled breath left his chest as his head fell beside your own and you clung to his shoulders as his rhythm began to hasten. Your legs locked around his waist and you both grunted as he slammed his hips hard against you.

“T-THAT’S it…Daddy—FUCK—so deep…”, you whine between each punch of skin against skin. “You feel so good…feel me up, Daddy, please.”

The bed underneath you both shakes at his intensity and after a few more aggressive thrusts, you feel his release coat your walls as a cute but still sexy high pitch whine emits from his lips to your ear. 

“You know…it doesn’t…help the self-esteem…when your wife…laughs after…sex…”, Eddie pants causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles that has him smiling above you as he pushes up onto his elbows. 

“I can’t help it. That little whimper you just made was kind of adorable.”

“Jesus Christ.”, he blushes, trying to hide his face in your shoulder.

“Noooooo! No, Eddie. I loved it. I love YOU…deviant.”

“Oh…ok now.”, he teases as you laugh harder and he carefully pulls out before lifting you to bring you to the shower. 

A permanent smirk remained painted on your lips as he gently cleaned your skin, running the rag as gently as he could while leave small kisses along the way. 

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“I’m worried about your fight.”

The boxer exhales as he rises to his feet and places the cloth down so he can hold your cheeks in his palms. 

“I can understand why, sweetheart, but like you told your parents; I train and prepare for things like this.”

“For someone to fight dirty?”

“Life prepared me for that.”

“Baby, I’m being serious.”

Your husband smiles as his thumbs caress you before bringing you to his chest. 

“I know… How about this? How about if Shaun acts up…the first time will be the only time. I’ll call it and refuse to continue.” Sighing yourself, you let him go and turn off the facet behind you as he watches you grab a towel to dry your body. “Honey, I can’t cancel this fight.”

“It’s not right that they didn’t give you all the information. That has to count for something.”

“But we know now. I’m not going into that ring blind.”, he defends as he grabs a towel as well and wraps hit around his waist. 

“That doesn’t ease my worries, Eddie.”

“Y/N, this is the biggest fight of my career. It could lead to so many better opportunities and I refuse to let some asshole ruin that for me because he thinks he’s hot shit. I think you forget, babe, I’ve fought unfair fights my ENTIRE life especially when I was a kid. When the jocks weren’t kicking my ass, I had a drunk at home to defend myself against.”

“Look, no matter what I say you’re going to do what you want but I’m allowed to be worried.”, you huffed, stomping into the bedroom and pulling on one of his shirts as you sat down at the edge of the bed. 

After sliding on his boxers, Eddie knelt down in front of you and took your hands in his. 

“You are allowed to be worried and what you say does matter to me. Y/N, if you genuinely feel like I shouldn’t do this then I won’t but you have to understand how hard that’s going to hit me in the future…less jobs, less fights, less money—”

“Eddie, I don’t care about the money. It’s something YOU care about and I understand but all that matters to me is you and your safety.”

“God that’s so fucking weird.”, he whispers, smiling when you give him a confused look. “I have a wife who supports ME. To be fair, sweetheart, you said Shaun Downey reminded you of Brad and I did knock that fucker out so…”

His grin grows as you laugh, climbing in beside you and tugging you into his embrace. 

“I hope you know I’m not saying…like I don’t think you can win…”

“I know, baby. I promise, Y/N, if anything feels even remotely off, I’ll stop the fight. Doesn’t matter what the coaches say or anything. If you or I think something’s not right, the fight is over.”

“Me?”, you giggle breathily. “I don’t know how you’ll know that from up in the ring.”

“Because you’ll be in my corner.” You blink in shock as you tilt away and search his face for signs of jest. “I already cleared it with everyone I needed to and they gave me a shirt you’ll have to wear but yeah. This is the biggest fight of my life at the moment and I want your face to be the one I see after every round.”

“Oh my God, Eddie!”, you cry as you circle your arms around him in excitement.

#################

Paige’s boyfriend sighs as he brings her something to drink while she glares out into the night sky from his balcony. 

“Honey, at some point you’ll have to talk to them.”

“No, I don’t. Both my parents are liars and—”

“Human?” Flashing him a glare, she pushes Eli out of the way as she huffs back into his apartment. “Look, I know I’m just an outsider here but it seems like your dad was trying to keep the peace the best way he knew how.”

“By fucking my friend and roommate!?”

“You make it sound like he did this TO you when, with all due respect, their relationship isn’t about you, babe. They’re two consenting adults who—”

“I don’t care! A line was crossed! I can’t believe you’re on their side!”

“Paige, I’m always behind you. I just think you need to reconsider and at least hear them out… Y/N and Mr. Munson. Your mom kind of threw them under the bus for herself so I’m kind of more for one than the other.”

Eli’s phone rings and he sighs heavily when he sees the name on the caller ID, still taking the time to answer. 

“Hey, Y/N. Now’s not really… What?...O-Okay, I’ll, um, let her know and we’ll be right there. Should I call Ms. Davis?...I don’t know. Habit on my side I guess…Okay, Okay. Y/N, it’s ok. Everything will be ok.”

As soon as he hangs up his device, he powerwalks to the bedroom and pulls down a suitcase as Paige watches with wide, bewildered eyes. 

“Where are you going?”

“WE’RE going to Vegas.”, he grumbles as he starts throwing clothes inside. 

“I’m not fucking going to Las Vegas! Are you kidding me!?”

“Paige, your dad is in the hospital.” 

Her mouth falls open in surprise before she runs to her phone, swiping past all the missed calls from you and a number she doesn’t recognize to type her father’s name into a search engine. 

 “Shaun Downey in custody after an assault to newcomer Edward Munson put him in the ICU. Both boxers went multiple rounds with Munson seeming to be titled the winner but as a bell rung and both men were meant to go to their corners, Downey ran after him and knocked him to the ground, delivering multiple blows to the boxer’s face before referees and coaches were able to remove him. No word from his team on Eddie Munson’s current status.”

Pressing play on a video from the fight, Paige watched in horror as the other man pushed her father and wrestled him to the ground. He blocked most of the impact but the force of this other boxer’s fist still left him bruised and bleeding. The video stopped right as you fell to his side and pulled his head to your lap. 

“Coach and new bride Y/N Munson with doctor at Munson’s side.”, the caption read and a new feeling of shock flowed through with her worry. 

Her dad got married? To Y/N? There was no way…

“I have my stuff packed.”, Eli announced as his eyes met hers from the hallway. “Like I said, I’m on your side, honey, but it’s not right to leave Y/N alone in city she doesn’t live in while her boyfriend is in the hospital.”

“Husband”, Paige corrected. “Apparently…” 

“Shit… so much for ‘just a rebound’, huh?”, her boyfriend exhaled with his hands on hips. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

###############

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart @chelebelletx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paleidiot @alphabetically-deranged @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @yesimabratandwhataboutot @idkwhattoputhere08 @gryffindorqueensworld @mewchiili @veemoon @heavenlyhorrors @twirls827 @jamiecb66 @chelebelletx @longpondlibrary @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @hellv1ra @utterlyinsanity @eddiesclub @wiinterwiidow @stylesxmunson @daveythorntonslocker @eddiesguitarskills @twirls827

[httpsdana]

Have you planned to do some boyfriend headcanon for Pedri, Kenan and Jamal aswell? I would love to read then > ^ <

Boyfriend Headcanon~Pedri González

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: this has got to be my fav headcanon I've written. i hope you enjoy <3

❖ bf! Pedri is the type to always have a hand on you. Whether it’s holding your hand, resting his palm on your thigh. He's always absentmindedly playing with your fingers, tracing over your knuckles, or squeezing your hand in random rhythms. Sometimes, he intertwines your fingers and murmurs, “Your hands are so tiny.”

❖ bf! Pedri is lowkey obsessed with your scent. He buries his face in your neck just to breathe you in, and if you ever leave a hoodie at his place, he refuses to wash it for a while.

❖ bf! Pedri gets jealous when you call someone else ‘love’. You could be talking to a waiter, a friend, or even your mom, but the moment you say “Thanks, love” to someone who isn’t him, Pedri side-eyes you. “I thought I was your only love,” he grumbles, pulling you closer.

❖ bf! Pedri randomly texts you “I miss you” even when he just saw you. If he’s in training or sitting at home, you’ll get messages like “I miss you.” Sometimes, they’re followed by pictures of him looking dramatic or a voice note with a sad sigh. If you respond teasingly, he’ll double down with “It’s serious, cariño. I think I need to see you right now.”

❖ bf! Pedri secretly loves when you steal his hoodies, but he pretends to complain. Every time you take one of his hoodies, he sighs dramatically. “Amor, I’m running out of clothes.” But in reality, he loves seeing you in them. Sometimes, he ‘forgets’ to take his hoodie back, just so you’ll wear it again.

❖ bf! Pedri knows the sidewalk rule. Without fail, every time you walk together, Pedri subtly moves you to the inside of the sidewalk. If you try to switch back, he gently tugs you closer, shaking his head. “Just stay here, princesa,” he mutters, like it’s non-negotiable.

❖ bf! Pedri kisses you randomly, especially in the middle of conversations. You could be in the middle of explaining something, and suddenly, he leans in to kiss you mid-sentence. When you blink at him, he just shrugs. “What? You looked too cute not to kiss.”

❖ bf! Pedri always pulls you onto his lap when you sit next to him. It doesn’t matter if you’re at home, at a friend’s house, or in a casual setting. If there’s space, Pedri pulls you onto his lap. “Sit here,” he says, already guiding you over. If you try to protest, he gives you a look like “You belong here, end of discussion.”

❖ bf! Pedri gets grumpy when you take too long to reply but won’t admit it. If you take longer than usual to text back, Pedri starts overthinking. He won’t say anything, but the moment you text him, he replies within seconds. If you ask if he was waiting, he scoffs. “Pfft, no. I was just already on my phone.” He was absolutely waiting.

❖ bf! Pedri insists on choosing your nail color and paying for them. Every time you book a nail appointment, Pedri gets excited like it's a national event. He’ll scroll through Pinterest, sending you options like “This one would look so good on you” and “What about red? You know I love red.” No matter what color you end up choosing, he always pays, leaving a generous tip for the nail tech.

❖ bf! Pedri sends you videos of dogs and says “this is us”. Out of nowhere, Pedri will send you a random video of two golden retrievers cuddling and caption it “Us”.

❖ bf! Pedri gets pouty when you wear socks to bed. He loves feeling your bare legs tangled with his under the sheets, so when you crawl into bed wearing socks, he immediately frowns. “Amor, take them off, por favor,” he whines, already pulling at the fabric. If you refuse, he’ll start a whole argument about “How can I warm you up if you’re wearing these?”

❖ bf! Pedri gets jealous but in a quiet way. He won’t make a scene, but you’ll notice his arm tightening around your waist or the way he stares down the guy talking to you. Later, he’ll casually ask, “So… who was that?”

❖ bf! Pedri insists on carrying your bag, no matter how small it is. Even if it’s the tiniest purse imaginable, Pedri insists on carrying it. “It’s fine, give it to me.” He’ll throw it over his shoulder like it’s the most normal thing, completely unfazed when his teammates tease him about it.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[wordsarelife]

—tell me why

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

summary: you break up with mattheo after relentlessly trying to make your relationship work.

warnings: angst with a capital a guys

notes: this just sprawled out of me and onto the tumblr page. very spontanious post, hope you guys enjoy!!

the night you break up with mattheo riddle is a warm one in the middle of september.

his hair looks messy, ripped apart and rearranged from him running his hands through it while you spoke. the school uniform is hanging loosely on his body and he seems so much smaller under your gaze, so much more vulnerable.

you ask yourself if he always looked this broken and you were just too blind to see it, or if mattheo riddle changed completely in the span of minutes.

you have never seen him cry. ever. now he is breaking down and begging like his tears are the only thing that can water your relationship back to life.

but your relationship isn’t a dying flower. you aren’t naïve or poetic enough to ever think of it like that. maybe it makes it easier for mattheo if he does.

his hands are soft as they wander over your body. your skin burns under his touch. it feels familiar and foreign at the same time. as if his hands were made for touching, but just not for touching you.

as his hands wander up to cradle your cheeks you wonder if he even sees you the same way you see him. if he ever saw you like you were and not like he wanted you to be.

mattheo is everything but stupid, even if he doesn't always act like it. he's smart without being blindsided by his intelligence. he's cruel without thinking about consequences. and he's a coward who can't help but hurt you, even though he can't help but love you at the same time.

both things can be true, you think as your eyes flutter close and you let him kiss you. just for now. just for a last time.

you're not sure who you're owing this kiss. if it's him. if it's you. if it even matters who it's for.

his lips feel warm against yours. like a memory that slipped into the back of your mind without you noticing. maybe, because you can't remember the last time he kissed you just to kiss you. without gaining anything from it. not to end a fight or interrupt you speaking.

being with mattheo hadn’t always felt this way. there was a time when loving him was as natural as breathing—so effortless, so consuming, that you forgot how to do it on your own and waited for him to teach you.

now it feels like he's the water you are drowning in.

because nights filled with love had turned to evenings of fighting, his temper getting the better of him and his voice rising until it was the only sound you could hear.

you had never felt as small then when he was screaming at you.

you had always known that mattheo didn’t grow up the way you had. the house he had lived in was never more than a house, always less than a home. and his parents? merlin, you couldn't even imagine.

he had longed for your love so deeply, so desperately. like a child that had never tasted ice cream, but knew that it had to be good.

you had given him the love willingly, without any conditions, without withdrawing or holding back the one feeling he had waited to receive for so long.

but the difference between wanting to receive something and actually receiving it was like standing in the rain, arms outstretched, yet never feeling the drops sink in.

and it was neither yours nor his fault that it was like that. it just was.

you couldn't blame him, but you wouldn't just accept it either.

you had done that for such a long time that you had started doubting the feeling yourself. it felt like you needed a proof that it was still there. but love that needed proof wasn't actually love, right?

mattheo steps away from you, his warmth and the hint of a kiss still lingering on your lips.

"i know that i ruined it." he says and the words break through your skull and crawl into your head like a parasite taking over your body. "you probably hate me now." his voice is soft and there's a hint of a smile hidden in his words. you know him well enough to detect that he isn't actually joking, but testing the waters. he really wants to know if you do. if your love did not only slip beyond his reach, but turned to anger behind his back.

"i don't hate you." you tilt your head to the side unintentionally and look at him like you always used to. like he was a riddle you were trying to solve. ironic, really.

mattheo's hands dart over his face quickly, getting rid of the remains of tears. as if he doesn't want you to see them. "that actually makes it worse."

"mattheo" you try to reach for his arm, but he steps back. it shatters your heart to see the expression on his face. he looks like he understands you, like he would do the same thing if he was in your place.

you wonder if mattheo riddle loves you enough to let you go.

"you were the only good thing i ever had." he says suddenly. he waits for a second, pondering, before he opens his mouth again and continues. "and i ruined it. i ruin everything, don't i?" his voice breaks off and he hides his face behind his arm.

he almost looks eleven again.

you don't want to be cruel, not like he was cruel to you so many times before, but you don't want to lie to him either.

you speak after a beat of silence, your voice almost close to a whisper. "not everything." you admit. "not me, not you, just us."

"do you really think that's gonna comfort me?"

"no," you say honestly "because it's not supposed to comfort you, matty." he flinches at the nickname, but you ignore his reaction before you continue. "and i don't care about the things that are not perfect about you. i don't care about any of it. the only thing i do care about is that you always told me you wanted this, you wanted me—"

"because i did—" he interrupts, his voice rising to match yours. "because i do."

your gaze flickers and for a short unwilling second you look at him in a way you never wanted.

his face falls and he shrinks under your gaze. it's an instant trigger. he knows the look on your face, like he knows every single birthmark on his body. he counted them when he was seven. every single hint his mother had left on his body. everything that belonged to her and had marked itself on his skin the day he was born.

just like the look on your face it was something he'll always connect with bellatrix.

"i'm sorry." you quickly say, catching yourself.

mattheo's face hardens. "tell me the truth." he urges. "i can take it."

he must've stood before his mother just like this when she would come to punish him with her wand. he must've told her the exact same words back then too.

you keep quiet.

"do you hate me?" mattheo repeats his question from earlier. you were sure that he had believed you. seemingly not.

"the problem isn't what i'm feeling"

mattheo lets a dry laugh escape his lips, like he can't believe what he's hearing. "then what is it about?" he huffs, almost as if he isn't at all interested in hearing your answer. but his eyes are telling a different story.

you hesitate for a second, before you sigh, your voice as soft as his hands on your body as you start speaking: "i don't hate you mattheo." you state. "but you do."

mattheo gulps. you just hit a sore spot and he's too surprised about what you just said to hide it.

"you wanted to be loved by me, you wanted to love me," you explain softly. "but that's not how it works. wanting something to be real doesn't automatically make it real." you whisper softly. "you wanted it all so badly, but you hated yourself too much to ever allow it, to ever let the feeling linger, to ever truly understand it."

"i just—" he doesn't know what to say. he's so overwhelmed. he tries to bite back the tears. "i didn't think i deserve it, deserve you."

"love isn't something you deserve or don't deserve."

mattheo frowns.

"it's not so simple." you shrug, "it's not so complicated."

both things can be true.

"then what is it?" mattheo urges. "tell me and i will fix it. i will make it better. i can learn how to."

the plea in his voice breaks your heart. you have never seen him this emotional about anything before. not even when he would recount the horrors of his childhood back to you.

"i'm sorry, matty." you turn to leave the room, but your hand lingers on the door. "you know it matters to me, right?"

he looks up at you with surprise, like he had expected you to be far gone the next time his gaze would rise from the ground. he simply shrugs as an answer to your question. your face softens.

"that's the beautiful thing about love." you say. this time you do want to comfort him. mattheo perks up, ready to receive anything you still want to give. "it's stupid, it's illogical, it's haunting and it hurts, oh god, how much it hurts."

you pause for just a second and then: "but it's there even if you don't want it to be. it comes without precautions and stays without conditions. it's real even if it's one sided." you voice drops softly and mattheo gulps at the obvious hint in your words. "but it's warm and golden and besides all it's eternal."

mattheo's gaze lingers as you open the door.

"you will always have someone in me who loves you, matty." you say, almost like you're promising him. "even if you won't let me. it doesn't make a difference, because it doesn't make it any less real, any less warm or eternal."

"y/n" your name escapes his lips like a last plea, but the sound of his voice reveals that he knows it's over, just as much as you do.

"you can leave it and ignore it for the rest of your life." you say finally. "or you can take it and accept it. either way it's gonna be there and it's gonna wait as long as it has to. it's not going anywhere."

the night you break up with mattheo riddle is a warm one in the middle of september. the night you stop loving him never arrives.

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

Wouldn’t it be interesting if the yandere TEC boys met up with the reader as grown ups in the epilogue of the comic after the reader moved away from them to you know, get away from their stalking and in the worst turn of events, met them at the con again?

But I Know Will Meet Again Some Sunny Day

Summary: Yandere! Epilogue! TEC x reader

TW/CW: Yandere tendencies, obsessive tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, online harassment, trolling, implied exploitation, nasty all around

A/N: You’re insane if you decide to go to any nerdy space ever again/POS

Anyways, this was so awesome to do! Need more epilogue TEC as yanderes!

Reblogs are appreciated!

* Bill had the hardest time letting you go

* Even after moving to Wisconsin with his family, he still thought about you every second of the day

* Closing his eyes, he’s be reminded of your face, and he hated it. Spent long nights staring at the ceiling, wondering about what went wrong and how he can fix it

* Was he too clingy? Too pushy? Too distant? Did he not show his emotions enough?!

* Eventually, he concludes to the simple answer: It was not his fault, it was yours. You simply didn’t reciprocate anything he gave you, and he was the perfect partner for you

* However, he pushed them away in order to start his comic book shop business, and was grinding the hours for you. He never stop thinking about you once the day was over

* He spots you first at comic con. You were looking over the limited edition comic books put up for auction and god! He could tell it was you based on the way you laugh with the person running the booth

* Pushing people aside, Bill then just stood silently behind you, watching your every move, not caring people were giving him weird stares for basically standing in the middle of the con

* When you saw him, you could feel your entire body froze. It was like you were a teenager again, but this time, you were now dealing with an older version of your stalker

* Definitely ran in the opposite direction, and Bill was right on your tail. He won’t loose you like last time

* By some miracle (tragedy in your case) he got you into a corner

* He’s so pathetic. Sweating, close to crying, stumbling over his words…he’s just a mess seeing you

* Moving slightly away from his eye sight results in him gripping his shoulders and keeping you in place while he gives the creepiest monologue in your entire life (he’s been practicing it for a decade)

* If you let him, he’ll followed you for the rest of the con, like a pathetic puppy. Doesn’t matter if you have the money or not, he’ll get you whatever you want

* It’s creepy honestly, but at least you get some free stuff out of it

* (What you don’t hear is his grumbling. He’s complaining about “Fantards ruin everything” and “You only need me. I’m the man of this relationship, I can take care of you.” Can hear a couple of words, but it’s almost vague)

* Please distract him. Point him to an auction panel and pay for the next plane ticket and get the FUCK out of there

* Sure, he’ll destroy his hotel room. You bled him dry, and now he has to call his bitch of a mom to buy him a ticket!

* No worry. He able to find your name in Facebook! Least he can online stalk you before his next big move

* Josh was honestly writing smutty fanfics about you while in college. Let’s be honest

* He was so devastated that you moved away, and what’s worse is that these fanfics were sometimes handed in, so now the professor and the whole class knew about is infatuation with you!

* Worst of all? His parents forbade him from talking to you! That meant he couldn’t even contact you online! Ain’t that disappointing

* That doesn’t mean he was completely hopeless. At college, he’d use the WiFi to see if you were in Facebook and would stare at your photos for hours and hours at a time. If he’s on break, he may or may not have…relived himself looking at pictures of you.

* Even as a comic book editor, he gets caught up writing about you. You invade even in his dreams, dammit!

* His therapist tells him he’s too obsessed, but DAMMIT! He knew what you two was special

* So when he sees you having lunch during Comic-Con, he knows this is perfect timing!

* You noticed him tapping your shoulder and are immediately spooked

* He looks exactly the same, except his hair line’s receding. He’s breathing so heavily, you have to snap your fingers to get him back into reality.

* Once you do, it’s a vomit of words. He’s so excited to see you, how have you been, you look amazing!

* You nod quietly while searching for the nearest exit

* He’s pouring his heart out to you (talking about every single detail about you. It’s very graphic and some of these things you thought only belonged to you)

* You sneakily told Josh that you were going to go get him some lunch before booking to the exit

* Josh doesn’t seem to notice. He’s so entranced in his sonnet that he’s going to get a few stares because he’s now talking to himself

* He’s so disappointed when he realizes you left. However, thanks to his “”connections”” (barely any), he can see if your name will be blacklisted from the whole comic book industry (it won’t. People barely know his name)

* In the meantime, he’s creating fake accounts and using them to send long messages about “us”. It ranges from kind of sweet to horrifying.

* You had to get a new phone number from how bad the stalking has become…at least until he finds THAT one as well

* He’s persistent, I give him that.

* You would not step into Comic con whatsoever

* Pete’s rage of you moving away is all he can think about some nights. Couldn’t you see how perfect you two were made for each other?!

* Uses a punching bag, with a picture of you on it, and absolutely goes HAM on it. He’s not stopping until he’s exhausted (or the punching bag is knocked down)

* (Definitely takes the picture and uses it for…other things)

* Even working at Sick Mofo, he actively will look for women that look like you. In some weird revenge way.

* Looks at the scar he gave himself in your initials. It’s his only motivation some days honestly

* You probably were dragged by your friends to go to this event. It was pretty okay, actually! Especially taking pictures of cosplayers

* Then…you locked eyes with Pete.

* You don’t know what happened next. All you know was that you and Pete are in the parking lot, nowhere else to go

* He’s berating you. Talking about how “All you normies as the same” and “You don’t know how good you had it!”

* …Definitely kidnaps you. Drags you to the Sick Mofo van and drives you to his hotel room

* Once there, he knows what he must do. What? You thought he came empty handed? Nope.

* Somehow, this decade long dry spell has had resulted in Pete coming up with a basic “tool kit”

* Just imagining DIY brainwashing, and that’s Pete. He wants you to “remember all of the good times” you two had. Plays his favorite horror movies, yells at you, keeps you sleep deprived. The whole shebang honestly

* Wants to break you to the very last bone.

* If it works, then awesome! If not….well, he has room in his house for his (literal) cemetery girl. You’ll never leave his sight ever again <3

* Jerry got therapy. He realized how bad his obsession for you got, and needed help.

* And he did! Does yoga, focuses on himself, and even got a girlfriend who he loves! He never thought a life without you was possible, but this is living proof of that!

* Like I said, all of the stalking was online, so you probably aren’t aware on Jerry’s true nature

* You met him at con, and it was super nice to meet him and Mandi!

* With the promise of buying con food, you three sat down and actually had a nice chat. You and Mandi got along so well, especially with your interest in the car they drove in.

* Jerry was so happy two of his favorite people were getting along…except, that aching feeling….

* Why did he feel an ache in his chest when Mandi brushed her hand on your shoulder? Why did it feel so wrong calling you an “old friend” and not his partner? He knows you’re not his property, but still…

* Said your goodbyes and exchanged numbers. Least you two can be is Facebook Friends, right?

* Looking you up, you seem to be doing good in life. Good for you! (Though he wishes he was in your college graduation photo)

* He can’t focus on anything else for the rest of the week. Staying up all night, thinking about how you moved on so fast from him. Is that fair, when he was the one who let you lay your head on his shoulder while you cry about the trolls? What about when he introduced you to Magic: The Gathering?! Did you forget about those times??? Has it been that long since you remembered him?!

* May have opened up a new trolling account and may be using it to stalk you….

* Sending you nasty messages that he’s been holding for so long; they’re so venom filled and it would make Patrick Bateman tell Jerry to tone it down

* He’s loosing sleep over this. He’s not showing up to the tournaments, has been ignoring Mandi (she left him without him realizing) and has become a shut in

* At this point, he’s surrounded by Monster Energy drinks, stale fast food, and the computer light on his face

* Made 5 new accounts to constantly harass you with, while using his public Facebook to compliment you and your accomplishments

* …it’s all your fault. You caused him to spiral like this, and he’ll make sure you pay for turning him like this

* Unless you want him, of course! Then all is forgiving, darling

[harrystyleshotwife]

Through the Night (h.s.)

Word Count: 1.9k

tw: sickness (no vomit!), use of y/n, medicine dosage (to a child), gross sick things idk, cheesy fluff because why not

I’ve never had to write warnings before so lmk if there’s something to add

⸻

Harry had performed in front of thousands, won multiple Grammys, and traveled the world. But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared him for the challenge of a sick baby and a sick wife at the same time.

It started one night with a sniffle from his daughter, Rosie, just shy of eleven months old. Then, by the next morning, she was burning up with a fever, her tiny body radiating heat against Harry’s chest as he cradled her.

“Poor baby,” he murmured, rocking her gently as she whimpered. He pressed a kiss to her damp curls, frowning. “Mumma’s gonna be so cross that she can’t hold you.”

Speaking of, his wife, (Y/N), was curled up on their bed, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. Her voice had been scratchy the night before, and now, she was also down for the count. When Harry had woken up, she was shivering, nose red, and throat too sore to even argue when he told her to rest.

Now, with Rosie clinging to him like a little koala, her fevered cheek resting against his shoulder, Harry was on full-time duty.

Rosie whined, rubbing her face against his chest, snot leaving a wet patch on his t-shirt. Harry didn’t even flinch. He’d long since accepted that fatherhood meant getting covered in all sorts of things.

He carefully measured out the pink liquid and sat her on the counter, keeping a firm hand on her waist. “Okay, love, just a little sip.”

Rosie made a face before she even tasted it.

It took three tries, two fake-out attempts, and a promise of a cuddle, but finally, Rosie swallowed the medicine, shuddering dramatically.

“Good girl,” Harry praised, kissing her forehead. He couldn’t help the smile of triumph that was creeping onto his face.

Harry peeked into the bedroom to check on (Y/N). She was exactly where he’d left her—wrapped in blankets, a tissue tucked under her pillow, eyes closed.

He felt a pang of sympathy. She rarely got sick, but when she did, it hit her hard.

“Baby?” he whispered, nudging the door open with his foot, Rosie still in his arms.

(Y/N) cracked one eye open, albeit only slightly.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks her gently.

She groaned. “Like I got run over by a bus.”

Harry chuckled softly, shifting Rosie to his other arm. “Sounds about right. Want some tea?”

She nodded weakly. “With honey.” She reminds him, although he never forgets.

“Got it.” He hesitated. “You want me to leave her in here?” He nodded at Rosie, who was now chewing on the collar of his shirt.

(Y/N) pouted. “I want to cuddle her, but I don’t want to make her sicker.”

“She’s already got the same sickness as you, sweetheart,” Harry reminded her gently. “Think it’s a bit late for that.”

She sighed. “Alright. Bring her here.”

Harry settled Rosie beside her, and immediately, the little girl snuggled into her mum’s side.

“Hi, baby,” (Y/N) croaked, kissing the top of Rosie’s head.

Harry watched them for a moment, heart full despite the chaos.

Then Rosie sneezed—right into (Y/N)’s face.

Harry winced. “Well. Guess we’re really all in this together now.”

Rosie had finally dozed off on Harry’s chest, and (Y/N) was lightly snoring in bed. Harry had one arm wrapped around their daughter while using his free hand to scroll on his phone.

He was exhausted, but he wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Well, maybe for a little sleep.

But mostly, he was just grateful.

Grateful for his wife, for their baby, for the quiet moments like this, even in the middle of sickness.

⸻

Okay this was a hard read/write idk but I feel like I could’ve ended it better but I just can’t be bothered so yay!!

I got the divider thing online with no credits attached so please tell me if it’s yours and I’ll give creds!!

[flymetothexmoon]

Hair Dye + Rings

Warning: Swearing. Smoking. Flirty Thanos x Reader. Sexual Innuendos.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Señorita, I need you. Call me."

A long time ago, you remember reading an old quote that said that whenever someone fools you once, it is on them; but when they fool you twice, the actions after the fact are then solely on you.

You rolled over to your side, still holding your phone, as you replayed the message, his voice deep and desperate; you could tell he was tired. Tired from what you did not know or ask. It was not very often that Thanos asked you for favors, let alone would let it slip that he needed someone, but something in you was nagging at you to return the call.

To be honest if you had actually gotten the call in time you were not sure if you would have answered or not, but now that he took the time to leave you a voicemail, to let you know he neeeded you, the tables have turned.

Slowly, you managed to press the "Return Call" button and brought the phone's speaker to your ear. You expected the phone to ring more than once, or even go to his voicemail, but it only rang once before his voice was soon in your ears once again.

His voice was louder than it was on the voicemail, more urgent. Maybe he really did need you after all.

"My house. Now. And stop by the store. My goddamn vape ran out. Blueberry Crush." You could feel yourself nodding, even though he was not able to see you.

The inside of your cheek was met with your teeth as you tugged on the sensitive skin, desperately trying to think as to why he would need you, but still feeling the surge of electricity run through as to what and why you needed to be there so urgently.

Thanos did not live very far from you, but the line at the local convenience store in your shared neighborhood was busier than usual. You could feel your feet rocking and back and fourth as you nervously rubbed your thumb along the front of the box the vape came in. Finally, it was your turn, and you smiled warmly at the cashier, knowning that was something they did not get very often.

"This all?" Your eyes scanned the area in front of you, feeling like it was your first time here. You eventually found a little display that had mood rings on display. A simple piece plastic that was suppose to wrap around your finger and tell you what you were feeling, but in reality probably adjusted and changed due to body temperature.

Quickly, you grabbed one out of the secured slot and placed it next to the vape, thinking it would not hurt to humor your inner child. You wished the cashier a good day, and slid the mood ring on your right middle finger as you walked out of the store, making your way to where Thanos was.

It had not even been two minutes that you left the store before you could feel your phone buzzing in your hand, the vibration making you jump slightly.

"Hello?"

"Señorita, where the hell are you? I fucking need you." You smiled softly to yourself, reminding him you needed to make a stop and you would be there soon. The reflection of your mood ring caught your attention as you hung up the phone.

Pink: Nuturing, Loving, Grateful.

Before long, you were standing in front of Thanos' door, your free hand that was not holding the box with his vape, was about to knock on his door before the door had quickly opened, nearly knocking you to your feet as you could feel someone's hands on your wrist as they quickly brought you inside, the door closing behind you.

"Thank God you are here,"

Your chest rose a few times as you tried to reduce the minor anxiety attack that took over.

Gray: Unsettled, Confused, Stresssed.

The colors were indeed changing with your mood, and you finally felt yourself relax as Thanos stood before you. His purple hair was a mess... literally, and you could see tiny little specs of purple on his face and even on the oversized shirt he was wearing.

Suddenly, it dawned on you why he needed you.

"Thanos... What have you done?"

His hands were on your wrist again, you could feel one of his fingers gliding against yours, one of his rings that he wore gently scraping against the cheap plastic on the mood ring you just bought. A low gasp escaped your lips, making them part slightly, as you felt him grab the boxed vape from your grasp, the sound of the box being ripped open and thrown on the floor following after, and the sound of the crackle from the vape mechanics and the smell of blueberry filling your lungs as you watched him take a hit, his pupils dialating almost instantly from the relief it gave him.

"I don't know what the fuck you are talking about..." Another hit.

Slowly, you felt your own eyes get a little hazy as you stepped closer to him, his height towering above you as you poked him on the chest, obviously pointing at the purple stains all over his top of choice.

"Your shirt says otherwise. Were you trying to do dye your own hair?"

Thanos fell quiet, and as a reflex, he ran his hand through his hair, getting even more of the purple dye all over his hand, all over the rings he wore.

"Fuck. Did I make that much of a mess?"

You smiled. He definitely did, and you could already see the spots on his head where he missed.

Lilac: Calming, Soothing, Pleasant.

"Just a little here and there. Let me take care of you..." you did not mean for the last part to come out like an invitation, but if definitely sounded like one, causing Thanos' eyes to light up momentarily, his lips curving into a tight smirk when your hand grabbed his hand and guided him up the stairs.

"Fiesty. So goddamn to eager to get me all alone. You must have other plans."

In that moment you were so glad you were moving fast so he did not see the blush that heated your cheeks.

Thanos had plopped down in a chair he brought, his eyes watching you as you mixed together the remaining of his signature purple dye, the gloves you wearing made slight crinkle when you finished stirring together the dye and bleach combo. Your nostrils were filled with the smell of blueberry again as you could tell Thanos was taking another hit of his vape, pleased with the purchase you made for him.

"You look so fucking sexy with those gloves on... Like you are going to dominate me or sum" You could feel your cheeks burning again as you stepped closer to him, your fingers gently massaging into his scalp and the feeling of his fingers hands gripping into your waist to steady you– clearly getting purple dye on your pants, but in the moment you did not care.

Sky Blue: Soothing, Relaxing, Focused.

Thanos was watching you, and you both knew it. He was not only watching you to learn how to do his own hair better, but he was also watching you because he liked watching you; the way your fingers worked his scalp and how your hips were constantly moving, despite the grip he had on them to try and keep you in one place, and more importantly how every time you had to get the top pieces of his hair, you had to stand on your tippy toes and real close to him, your tits practically begging his eyes to look at them.

Finally, your body relaxed and you admired your finished product, Thanos' hair was perfect.

You had stepped back to admire him, his hands that were gripping your hips were released and you involuntarily shivered at the lack of contact, but you remained proud of your work. You stepped aside to let him admire himself in the mirror, his hands running through his hair again, the smirk creeping across his lips once again, indicating how happy he was.

"Señorita I look so good. You did so fucking good for me. My own personal stylist." A low giggle escaped your vocal cords as you smiled wide, admiring him yourself, bringing your own hand to his hair, the plastic of the mood ring glittering against the lights in his bathroom.

Red: Passion, Power, Energy.

"It does look really good. You look really good," Thanos' hands snaked around your waist, moving your body so you were now sitting on the cold countertop in his bathroom, your eyes fluttering at the sudden contact as you watched his hands; the grip he recently had around your hips was once again present as you felt the metal on his hand dig into you, piercing your skin like a tattoo.

"S'all thanks to you, baby"

His words came out so damn smooth that for a moment, you believed that you were actually his baby. The piercing in your hip came to a hault as one hand kept you steady and the other was lifting your hand up, a small crinkle of Thanos' nose made you giggle again as he admired your hand, looking at the mood ring on your finger.

"What's this, baby? A silly little mood ring?"

Your mouth opened slightly, trying to think of a smart answer to reply with when you felt Thanos' body shift so he was even closer to you, his heartbeat practically thumping against yours as you swallowed hard, looking down at your hand and then back up to him, your lips just barely touching his...

"It's orange. Orange could suggest that I am craving excitement, and I am feeling confident and affectionate. Want to play a game and figure out what I am?"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Authors Note: this was a fun one to write. I had been feeling a little uninspired after part three of "Text Messages + Photos" but I finally wrote up at least 10 different titles that I want to eventually write up for Thanos and Seunghyun. Enjoy !!

[alohajix]

Just Like That

Description: when Emma meets Harry—a charming, British bartender—on a night out in New York City, their instant connection lingers long after the music fades. A few days later, one simple text turns into a date neither of them can forget. What starts with soft conversation and lingering looks quickly builds into something deeper, more electric… and maybe even real.

Warnings: this one-shot includes mature themes and sexual content. Readers +18.

Words: 4K.

*****

My phone buzzed from somewhere under the blanket draped across my legs. I was half-asleep on the couch, still in scrubs, feet sore from a twelve-hour shift and brain running on fumes. I almost didn’t check it. But then I saw his name.

Harry: Hey, you. Still thinking about that smile. Want to get a drink sometime?

I blinked at the screen. Once. Twice. Then I sat up.

My heart did this weird flutter thing I hadn’t felt in a while. Three, maybe four days since I met him at the club, and he’d been in the back of my mind ever since—British accent, wide grin, messy curls, and that way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. And now here he was. Texting me.

I reread the message. Then I read it again. My thumb hovered over the screen, heart still racing like it hadn’t gotten the memo that this was just a text and not a marriage proposal.

Still, I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to say yes. I did. God, I did. But it had been a while since someone made me feel that kind of nervous. The good kind. The kind that caught me off guard, like a breath you didn’t know you were holding until it rushed back in.

Finally, I typed: Hey you. I was kind of hoping you’d say that.

I hit send before I could overthink it. Then set the phone down on the coffee table like it might combust in my hand if I stared at it too long.

I leaned back into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around me, suddenly very aware of the silence in the room. The hum of the fridge. The faint sound of a car horn outside. The quick, anxious rhythm of my pulse in my ears. What if he changed his mind? What if I read too much into that night? What if—

My phone lit up again.

Harry: Tomorrow night? I get off at 8. There’s a little place I love—quiet, cozy. Thought of you when I passed it today.

And just like that, the nerves were gone. Replaced with something warmer, steadier. Excitement. That quiet kind that builds in your chest like a secret you’re not ready to say out loud yet.

I stared at his message, the edges of a smile tugging at my lips. He thought of me. Today. In the middle of his life, his day—he saw a place and pictured me there. With him. I let myself sit in that for a second. Let it settle. Let it feel real.

Then I typed: That sounds perfect. Send me the details?

I didn’t even try to hide the smile this time.

The next evening crept up faster than I expected. By six, I was out of the shower, towel wrapped around my head, standing in front of my closet like I’d never dressed myself before. It wasn’t just about picking an outfit—it was about feeling like myself. Comfortable, confident, like the version of me he met that night at the club… but maybe a little softer, a little more deliberate. I tried on two dresses. Then jeans and a blouse. Then the first dress again.

My bathroom counter was a mess—lip glosses, hairbrush, mascara wand balanced between product bottles. I kept checking my phone for no reason, like I was expecting him to cancel. He didn’t. Instead, at 6:42, his name lit up the screen.

Harry: I’ll meet you outside. Can’t wait to see you.

I stared at the message, heart giving that little skip again, and finally settled on a simple black dress and boots. Casual, but just enough effort. By the time I slipped my jacket on, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—and paused. Not bad. Not overdone. Just me. And for the first time all day, I let myself feel it: I was excited.

Really, genuinely excited.

The air outside was crisp, just cool enough to flush my cheeks as I stepped onto the sidewalk. Streetlights flickered to life as the sun dipped behind the buildings, the city shifting into its evening rhythm. Then I saw his car—a black, older model with character. Parked just a few feet down the block. And there he was, leaning casually against the driver’s side door, hands in his jacket pockets, curls just messy enough to be charming.

His head lifted as I approached, and that slow, familiar smile tugged at his lips.

“Hey, you,” he said, voice low and warm, that accent hitting me harder than I expected.

“Hey,” I breathed back, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“You look…” He paused, eyes moving over me in a way that made my skin warm. “Incredible.”

I laughed, soft and breathy. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He pulled the door open for me with a slight bow. “After you, m’lady.”

I rolled my eyes but climbed in, heart racing just a little. The inside of the car smelled like clean leather and something vaguely like cedarwood. Safe. Comfortable. As he slid into the driver’s seat beside me, I caught him stealing a glance.

“What?” I asked, grinning.

“Nothing,” he said, putting the car into drive. “Just… glad you said yes.”

The ride was easy—quiet music playing low, city lights flickering past the windows like little glimmers of magic. Neither of us said much, but it wasn’t awkward. Just that kind of comfortable silence that felt earned, like we didn’t need to fill it to make it meaningful. Ten minutes later, he pulled into a small side street I’d never noticed before. Brick buildings lined the block, cozy and close, with warm lighting spilling from the windows of a little place nestled on the corner. No flashy sign, just a simple wooden door and a soft glow behind frosted glass.

Harry parked and looked over at me, like he was checking to see if I approved.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I love it already.”

He smiled, clearly pleased, and got out to open my door before I could even reach for the handle.

Inside, the restaurant felt like a hidden pocket of calm—dim lights, flickering candles on the tables, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware. There was music playing somewhere in the background—something jazzy and slow, almost like it was dancing just at the edge of hearing.

The hostess greeted us with a knowing smile and led us to a small booth near the back. Harry let me slide in first, then settled across from me, his knee brushing mine under the table as he got comfortable.

“This place is one of my favorites,” he said, resting his arms on the table. “Feels like the kind of spot you can actually talk in, you know?”

I nodded, glancing around. “It’s perfect.” And just like that, the night officially began.

The server came and went—water glasses filled, orders taken, menus gone—and then it was just us again. Soft music played in the background, the candle on our table flickering gently between us.

Harry leaned forward a little, resting his arms on the table. “So… neonatal nurse. That’s impressive. I don’t think I could hold a baby without panicking.”

I smiled. “Most people can’t at first. It’s all about being calm and steady.”

He looked at me for a second, then said, “You seem like someone who’s good at that.”

“I try,” I said, still smiling. “What about you? Do you bartend full-time?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m finishing a business degree. Been taking my time with it, but I like it. I’ve always wanted to start something of my own, you know? Build something real.”

I nodded, surprised but impressed. “That actually fits you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“You think before you speak,” I said. “You don’t talk just to talk.”

That made him laugh quietly. “Is that a compliment?”

“It is.”

There was a pause—just long enough for something to shift between us. Softer. More aware.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said, voice lower now.

“Oh?” I asked, leaning slightly closer. “And what did you expect?”

He gave me a look. “Someone quieter. Maybe shy. But you’ve got this calm strength about you. Like you slow things down just by being in the room.”

My chest tightened in the best way. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. I just looked at him, and he looked back.

“You’re good at this,” I said after a second.

“At what?”

“Making someone feel like they’re the only one here.”

He smiled. “Maybe you are.”

Dinner went by in a blur of warm food, quiet laughter, and the kind of conversation that made time feel like it was moving just a little too fast. I didn’t want the night to end, but eventually, the plates were cleared and the server brought the check. Before I could even reach for my bag, Harry had already slipped his card into the folder.

“Wait—what are you doing?” I asked, sitting up straighter.

“Paying,” he said simply, sliding it back toward the edge of the table with that annoying little smirk.

“I can split it with you.”

“You could,” he said, eyes meeting mine, “but I won’t let you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, even though my cheeks were already warm. “That’s not fair.”

He leaned in a little. “It’s a date, Emma. Let me take you out.”

The way he said it—soft but sure—left no room for argument. So I sat back and let him win, even if I rolled my eyes doing it.

Outside, the night had settled into something quiet and cool. The street was mostly empty, and the city had that rare hum where everything felt a little slower, a little softer.

“Want to walk for a bit?” he asked, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding.

We walked side by side, close but not touching, the rhythm of our steps falling into sync without trying. He told me a story about a nightmare shift at the bar, I told him about a baby that surprised us all and pulled through. We laughed. We paused. We kept walking. At one point, our hands brushed—and for a second, neither of us moved. But then he gently took mine, like it had been there waiting for his.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t loud. Just… easy.

By the time we made it back to his car, my heart was lighter, but the tension between us had thickened—comfortable, electric, and very much alive. The drive back was quieter than the ride there, but not in a bad way. The kind of quiet where everything meant more—every glance, every small shift in the air between us.

I watched the city blur past my window, lights streaking against the glass, but I could feel him glance over at me every so often. Like he was checking to make sure I was still smiling. Or maybe just stealing a look because he couldn’t help it.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gearshift.

I turned my head toward him. “So are you.”

His mouth curved. “Yeah, but you’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

He flicked his eyes toward me, then back to the road. “Like you’re thinking something dangerous.”

I laughed under my breath. “You first.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m trying to behave.”

I shifted slightly in my seat, the space between us feeling tighter somehow, even though neither of us moved any closer.

“Are you always this good at… not behaving?” I asked, voice a little quieter now.

His grip on the wheel tightened, just barely. “Depends on the person.”

There was heat in his tone now. Subtle, but unmistakable. It filled the small space between us like static. My skin buzzed with it.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said after a beat. “That night at the club. You caught me off guard.”

“Good,” he said, glancing over again—longer this time. “You caught me too.”

The light turned red, and we came to a slow stop. He looked at me, really looked, his eyes falling to my lips before finding my gaze again. Everything felt still. Held in place by a thread so thin it could snap with the slightest touch. When I bit down on my bottom lip, something changed. I didn’t mean to do it for him, but the way his jaw tightened and his eyes darkened told me exactly what it did. He reached over without a word, his hand settling on my thigh—confident, slow, like he was testing how far I’d let him go. His fingers stayed still at first, then brushed lightly against the inside of my leg, just enough to make me breathe a little deeper.

I looked at him, and he was already watching me. My chest rose and fell in quiet rhythm, heart pounding. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t have to.

The city kept moving around us, but we stayed like that—his hand on me, my pulse racing, everything stretched tight between us—until we pulled up in front of my place. He let the engine idle for a second longer before turning the key, and the silence in the car changed again. Still charged. Still full of what now.

He turned toward me, his hand slipping away from my leg so slowly it almost hurt.

“Thanks for tonight,” I said quietly, not sure what else to say.

His eyes flicked down to my mouth again before coming back to mine. “You’re welcome.”

The question hovered between us like fog—thick, unspoken, undeniable.

“Do you want to…” I started, then stopped, heat rising in my chest. He didn’t make me finish.

“Come up?” he said. I nodded. Just once. And we both got out of the car.

The click of my keys in the lock felt too loud in the quiet hallway. My fingers trembled just slightly as I turned the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside with Harry close behind me. The soft glow from the streetlights outside spilled into the apartment, painting faint gold shapes across the floor. I dropped my keys into the bowl by the door, my back still turned to him, trying to calm the flutter in my chest.

I barely had a chance to turn around before I felt him step in close—his presence warm, steady, intentional. And then his hand was on my waist, and his mouth was on mine.

It took my breath for half a second—not because I didn’t want it, but because I hadn’t expected it to happen so suddenly. The kiss was firm but unhurried, like he’d been waiting all night and couldn’t hold back another second. His lips moved slowly over mine, not rushing, not demanding—just asking. His other hand came up, cupping the side of my face gently, his thumb brushing just below my cheekbone as he pulled back, just barely.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, barely more than a breath between us.

I nodded, already leaning back in. “Yeah.”

His mouth curved into a soft smile against mine before he kissed me again—this time deeper, more sure, his hands sliding along my waist as I melted into him, every thought slipping out of reach except him. Everything about it felt right—slow, warm, and only just beginning.

My back pressed gently against the closed door as his hands settled on my waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of my dress with a quiet kind of urgency. There was nothing rushed in the way he touched me—just intent. Like he wanted to feel everything. Like he needed to.

I curled my fingers into the front of his jacket, tugging him just a little closer until our bodies aligned perfectly, chest to chest, his warmth sinking into me in a way that made my knees feel unsteady. When we finally broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against mine, breathing a little heavier now.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the second I saw you,” he whispered.

I didn’t answer—not with words. I slid my hands beneath the lapels of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders slowly, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. He let me, his eyes locked on mine the whole time, like he was watching to see if I meant it. And I did.

He kissed me again, deeper now, his hands moving from my waist to the small of my back, then lower. I gasped softly into his mouth when his fingers gripped just a little tighter, pulling me flush against him.

“Emma,” he murmured, my name catching in his throat like a secret. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don’t,” I whispered. “I want you.” That was all he needed.

My back met the couch cushions, and his body followed, settling against me, his hand sliding up the side of my thigh, beneath my dress. Every touch sent heat straight through me, and when he kissed down my neck, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

His fingers found the zipper at my side, tugging slowly, giving me time to stop him—but I didn’t. I only arched into him, wanting more. His lips brushed the top of my chest, and I felt the clasp of my bra shift under his hand. But before he undid it, he paused—just enough to meet my eyes.

I pulled him in for another kiss, but between kisses, I whispered, “Bedroom.”

He stilled, just for a beat, then nodded and stood, holding his hand out to me. I took it without hesitation. He followed me down the short hallway, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back, steady and warm. The anticipation between us built with every step, the silence heavy with everything we were about to give in to.

Inside my bedroom, the light was soft—just the amber glow of the bedside lamp—and the room felt suddenly smaller, more intimate, now that we were both here.

He kissed me again as I turned to face him, hands returning to my back, and this time he unhooked my bra with ease. The straps slipped from my shoulders, and the look in his eyes changed—darker, deeper, filled with heat and reverence.

“You’re stunning,” he said, barely above a whisper. His fingers trailed up my thigh, warm and sure, until he reached the heat between my legs.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured against my skin, voice thick. “I barely touched you.”

“I’ve wanted this since the second you texted me,” I whispered, my voice shaky as his fingers slid over me again.

“Yeah?” He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “You think about me?”

“All the time,” I breathed, hips arching into his touch.

He groaned, kissing me again, slower this time, more deliberate. “You have no idea what that does to me.” He paused and looked at me like I’d just knocked the air out of him. “Jesus, Emma,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

“Come here,” I said, pulling him back to me.

He kissed down my chest, his mouth hot and open as he wrapped his lips around my nipple, sucking gently until I moaned, squirming beneath him.

“I want to hear more of that,” he said into my skin, voice low and hungry. “I want to hear everything.”

When his mouth moved between my thighs, I gasped his name, hand threading into his hair. His tongue moved with skill—slow circles, teasing flicks—and when he slipped two fingers inside me, I cried out, hips rocking uncontrollably.

“God—Harry—don’t stop,” I moaned. He didn’t.

He watched me fall apart beneath him, eyes dark with focus. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

When the orgasm hit, it took everything from me—my breath, my words, my grip on anything but him. He kept moving until I trembled, then kissed his way back up to my mouth, swallowing my shaky breaths.

“You still okay?” he asked, brushing hair from my face.

“More than okay,” I said, tugging at his jeans. “I want you. Now.”

He smiled, breathless and sweet, and leaned over to grab a condom. “Say it again.”

“I want you,” I whispered, watching him roll it on. “I need you.”

He groaned as he positioned himself between my thighs. “Fuck, I’ve needed you since the second you walked into that club.”

And then he pushed into me—slow and deep. We gasped together, his name slipping from my lips as he filled me completely.

“You feel—shit—Emma, you feel so good,” he murmured, his hand gripping my thigh as he found a steady rhythm. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Then don’t,” I whispered, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Just give me everything.”

He kissed me hard, hips thrusting deeper now, and when I moaned into his mouth, he pulled back just enough to speak.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You,” I breathed. “Harder.”

His eyes flashed, and he flipped me gently, pulling me on top of him, guiding my hips down until I was fully seated again.

“Ride me, baby,” he said, gripping my waist. “I want to watch you come.”

I moved slowly at first, grinding against him, teasing us both. His eyes never left mine. Every sound I made, every shift of my body, seemed to push him closer to the edge.

“You feel so good,” I gasped, nails dragging down his chest. “So deep.”

His hands slid up my thighs, over my hips. “Faster, Emma. Just like that.”

The pressure built again, faster this time. My body trembled above him as he thrust up into me, chasing it.

“Harry—fuck—I’m so close.”

“Come for me,” he groaned. “Let go. I’ve got you.” And I did.

My orgasm ripped through me, loud and consuming. My walls clenched tight around him and seconds later, he followed, hips stuttering beneath me, breath caught in his throat as he moaned my name like a promise. I collapsed onto his chest, both of us slick with sweat, hearts racing and skin humming with aftershocks.

His arms wrapped around me without hesitation, lips brushing my temple as we lay there tangled and quiet.

“Still thinking about that smile,” he whispered, his voice warm and spent.

I laughed against his skin. “Still thinking about you.”

[narrycherries]

ivy: for moments that we stole

She was trying to figure out how to understand her own body, and he was attempting to help as much as he could..

(part 9)

masterlist // ivy series

word count: 29.7k

warnings/tags: harry x oc, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, alcohol use, jealousy, (slight hints at smut but no smut yet)

[a/n:: hi sorry it took so, so long for this to come out, hope it’s worth the wait <3!! I’m never writing a part that’s this long ever again lol!]

It hadn’t been quite a week since Harry came over in the middle of the night. Ivy was walking through the door of Niall’s store Thursday afternoon solely to see Harry. Due to her work schedule and him picking up shifts at the store after his regular job, they haven’t been able to physically see each other. Harry was devastated that he couldn’t see her, but he understood that she was tired after work. Every night, though, they talk on the phone and catch each other up on their days. 

Niall gave her a wave as she walked past the register. She quickly returned the gesture but didn’t waste time stopping to talk to him. Her destination was the back room where Harry told her he’d be at. He didn’t have a shift today, but he had a few lessons scheduled. Niall conducted the sessions at the store. Ivy strolled to the back, excitement firing up her body. She was ready to see him. Looking at his face on a screen during a video call or hearing his voice over the phone wasn’t enough to hold her over anymore. When she reached the back, she slowed down in the doorway and peaked into the room. Harry was sitting with his back to her on a stool, his hands holding a guitar. There was a young boy, most likely in his early teen years, sitting on the small couch across from him. Harry was talking to him about their progress, saying how he was doing a good job. 

“I think in a few more sessions you’ll be playing confidently.” Harry said, resting the guitar he was using on a stand before standing up. 

The boy smiled and jumped up, grabbing the soft case he carried his instrument in with. 

“I hope so. See you next week.” 

Harry chuckled. “You will. Remember, practice those sheets.”

Once the boy zipped his case up and walked towards the door, Ivy stepped out of the way and waited for them to be alone. 

Harry told her he had about fifteen minutes in between his lessons today, so she was eager to get to him as quickly as possible. When she walked into the room, he turned around and met her with a bright smile. He didn’t expect to see her so soon. 

“Hi.” She said happily while practically running over to him. 

Harry grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her into a tight hug. “Hey, sweet girl.”

“I’ve missed you.” She grinned against his chest, her arms snaked around him. 

“I missed you more, love.”

Ivy grunted as he squeezed her extra tight. “You smell good.”

Harry let out a laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. She pulled back, reaching up to grab his face with both hands. He gave her control, allowing her to pull him down for a kiss. They were both mindful of the fact they were in public, so their tongues stayed behind their lips. Harry hummed against her mouth, savoring the feeling of her thick lips mushed into his. When she pulled away, he furrowed his brows and let out a disapproving sigh. Ivy pinched his dimple and dropped her hands to his chest. 

“I don’t like being away from you for this long.” 

Harry smirked, licking his lips to soak up the flavor of her lip gloss that’s now mostly on his mouth and not hers. “It’s definitely not fun.”

“We can spend the weekend together.. if you want.” She offered, batting her long eyelashes at him.

He was easily enticed by the idea. “We can do that.”

Ivy was about to reach up for another kiss when Harry’s hands both moved to her waist, squeezing her on either side. He was staring deep into her eyes, a longing silence growing between them. She could tell he was thinking about something. 

Harry cleared his throat and dipped his head down, pressing a kiss to her ear. “Can I take you out on a date tomorrow?”

She let out a soft giggle, blush coating her face. “A date? Yeah, I guess so.”

“If you want to.”

“Of course, yeah.” Ivy turned her head so she could meet his lips. 

Harry laid a few kisses on her mouth before leaning back up. “We can get ice cream or something after, whatever you want. Maybe go back to my place for a movie.” 

She lifted an eyebrow. “Back to your place, hm?” 

“Yeah, take a turn in my bed.” He smirked back.

Her eyes rolled as her arms snaked around his torso. “Maybe.” 

“You can stay the night.. if you want to.” Harry kept his eyes on her despite her hiding her face. “My bed isn’t as comfortable as yours.. but m’sure you being in it would make it better.” 

Ivy shook her head, burying her face into his chest again. He didn’t have to look to know she was flushed and uncontrollably smiling. Even before they started doing all of this, Harry was well aware of the effect he had on her. His words, his glances, his touches - every little thing he did drove her mad. 

“I’d like to have a sleepover.” She finally mumbled back, a smile weaved into her words. 

“Then it’s a deal.” 

Harry could see through the doorway that there were a few customers walking around. As much as he wanted to hold on to her forever, until they morphed into one being and the world stopped spinning, he knew he couldn’t do that here. With a huff, he withdrew his arms and inched backwards, while keeping his hands on her waist. She frowned, trying to step closer, but Harry shook his head to stop her. 

“I have to get ready for my next lesson, love.” 

Ivy groaned, throwing her head back. “No, not yet.” 

“I don’t want to, believe me. I’d much rather be with you.” 

She understood that he had priorities and commitments that he couldn’t just abandon because she wanted to spend time with him. It was a struggle, especially with it being the first week they’ve been together, but she had to deal with it. Harry gave her waist a squeeze, trying his best to give her affection that was more appropriate for their setting. 

“Do you have any preferences for where you want to eat tomorrow?” 

She shook her head. “Whatever you want to do.” 

“I’ll text you later and let you know what time I’ll pick you up.” 

Ivy gave him a cute smile. “Call me.” 

“Alright, I’ll call you.” 

“I’m glad I got to see you for a little bit.” Her lips rolled to a pout, making his heart sink. 

“M’gonna spend every waking moment with you this weekend.” Harry wanted to wrap her in his arms and squeeze her tight, but he opted not to. 

“Guess I have to go now, hm?” She frowned, wishing he’d say no but aware that he wouldn’t. 

“Not before I kiss you goodbye.” His wink made her laugh, which eased his worry. 

It took so long for him to admit his feelings to her, and he hated having to be away from her now. But he had a job to do and she needed to get home and handle some chores. They couldn’t spend every day together.. Since he knew it would be an entire day until he saw her again, he wanted his goodbye hug to leave a good impression. Ivy laughed as he pulled her back into his body, squeezing her tight and placing several kisses on her temple. Her arms were squished between them, her hands pressed on his body as she giggled and squirmed, trying to get free. Ivy snuck her hand up to his face and grabbed his chin, angling his head down so she could kiss him. This time, she let her tongue slip out and he gladly lapped it up with his own. It was a long thirty seconds, a magical moment frozen in time. 

“Lovebirds, break it up.” Niall’s voice broke the trance and forced them apart. 

Harry groaned, his hands falling from her body, “What do you want?”

“I just got off the phone. They want us to do a show Saturday night. Their other booking fell through.” He explained, looking at his phone as he typed a message to send to the band’s group chat. 

“We just did a show.” Harry huffed out, not excited about the idea. 

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to do another.” Niall was obviously fine with the idea, and he thought the money would be worth it. Usually they did shows once a month, so extra income would be nice for everyone. 

“I just made plans for the weekend.” Harry glanced at Ivy, feeling her stare on him. 

“You can do the show. I can come watch.” She clasped her hands around his right hand, squeezing tight and pulled herself against him. 

“Ivy, I.. I wanted to be with you.” 

“You will be, technically. I love watching you sing.” The way she smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling as she gazed up at him, made him melt. He couldn’t tell her no. He couldn’t deny her of this, or anything if she used that adorable expression. 

Harry sighed and licked his lips. “Are you sure it’s not a big deal? 

“No, it’s fine. I promise.” She grinned back, visibly excited about the idea. 

He looked back to Niall, who was waiting for an answer. “I guess we can.”

“Good. Everyone else is on board.” Niall smirked, knowing that Harry would be the only difficult one to convince, especially now that he has someone else to occupy his time. 

“Have you told everyone about us?” Ivy asked curiously, her fingers crawling up his forearm.

Niall chuckled. “He hasn’t.”

“Niall.” Harry wasn’t pleased by that. “Can you go away?”

“Are you embarrassed of me?” Ivy had the biggest smile on her face. 

Harry shook his head, turning to face her. “M’not embarrassed. I haven’t seen any of them.”

“I know, I’m just picking.” Her smile dropped slightly. It was easy to notice the difference in his tone. 

Niall already walked off, leaving them alone. Harry avoided her gaze, choosing to stare off behind her. Ivy felt a familiar feeling creeping in. Whenever she used to talk to Harry, she would be afraid that something would happen and he’d get angry. Right now, that thought was threatening to take over. 

Harry didn’t say anything. He brought her into another hug, silence growing between them. She wasn’t sure if he was irritated or if he was just being quiet. She made sure to squeeze him tight. A minute passed before he finally let her go. He kissed her for just a moment, mumbling how he’d miss her. She returned the sweet words, trying to push away the worrying thought. Harry had a lesson and Ivy had to leave.. 

That night, just as she was getting under the covers to get comfortable, Harry called her. They talked for a while about random things, he told her about the lessons and she rambled about the grocery shopping she did after she left the music store. Harry listened to every word, enjoying the sound of her voice. He apologized for how he acted earlier in the day, but she assured him it was fine and she wasn’t upset in any way. 

After that, before they said their goodbyes, he told her he’d be there to get her at seven o’clock for their dinner date. He wouldn’t share the details of where they were going, just told her to trust him. Ivy was nervous about the date but she was excited, too. Harry could tell she was tired, so he eventually let her go with the promise to see her soon. 

—•—

Ivy had never breathed so hard before. Her eyes burned holes through the mirror as she looked her body up and down. She could feel her heart fluttering from anxiety as she contemplated how she felt about her appearance. Did she like this dress? Was it too much for a first date? If Harry was taking her somewhere that was casual, this would be considered over-dressed. Just as she was about to rip it off to try another one on, Emma walked into her bedroom. 

“Hi, getting ready for your date?” She grinned as she walked up behind Ivy in the mirror. 

She huffed back. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ivy shrugged, rotating to see how she looked from the side. “Can’t decide what I wanna wear.”

“This dress is gorgeous. Dark blue always looks good on you.” Emma adjusted a piece of her curled hair, putting it in place. “And your hair is gorgeous.”

Ivy chewed on her cheek for a few seconds as she stared at herself. She was confident with her emotions and feelings, yet she was confused about her outer appearance. Did she like this dress? Was it too nice? Was the color decent? Would Harry like this color? She shook her head. 

“What if Harry doesn’t like it?”

Emma met her eyes in the mirror. “If you wore a potato sack Harry would love it.”

“But.. what if he doesn��t?” Ivy’s lips fell to a frown. 

“He will, Ivy. He’s obsessed with you. He’ll love it.” Emma playfully grabbed her waist, keeping a smile on so Ivy would feel better. 

She shrugged, looking down at her heels. Maybe they were too tall for this kind of thing? They were very comfortable, the thick heel made them easy to balance in. Would Harry think it’s too much? 

“You look perfect, I promise.” Emma whispered out, trying her best to pump some positivity into Ivy. 

Although she didn’t believe it, she thanked Emma and said a quick goodbye. Niall was there to pick her up. They were going on a date themselves and planned to spend the night together here since Ivy will be going with Harry if all things go well. 

Ivy sprayed on her favorite perfume and adjusted the necklace around her neck, setting the pendant flush to her skin. She applied her favorite lipgloss, opting for a shade a bit of a deeper pink than her usual. The curls in her hair weren’t tight. They flowed down her back and over her shoulders, perfectly spiraled. Maybe he would like the dress and the shoes and the perfume and her hair and her.. Maybe he would really, really like her tonight. 

“Hello?” She answered as she put the phone to her ear. 

“Hey, sweet girl. I’ll be there in two minutes.” Harry’s deep voice made her stomach turn cartwheels. 

“Okay. Should I wait outside?”

“I’ll come to the door and get you.” His smile was laced perfectly through his words. “Have to be traditional.”

She laughed softly. “Okay, I’m excited to see you, but don’t call why you’re driving. Be safe.”

“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Bye, Ivy.”

“Bye, Harry.” 

Speaking to him didn’t ease her worry at all. The thoughts of not looking pretty enough and not dressing appropriately and not being what he wanted - everything was spiraling in her mind. Ivy sat down on the couch and glued her eyes to the door, waiting to hear a knock or two hit against the wood. She nearly held her breath the entire time. It was supposed to be easier now that they got along, that they admitted to caring about one another. It was supposed to be easy..

It had been a long time since she went out on any official dates with anyone. All those had failed her in the past, she was hopeful that this one would be different. There was that lingering fear that Harry would suddenly not want to be with her and that he’d disappear, but she was fighting hard to keep that out of her mind. Worrying about her appearance was enough to keep her mind occupied, unfortunately. Everything vanished and her heart froze as a sudden knock on the door echoed through the room. There was no turning back. She gulped down her fears and walked to the door. It was comforting to know that Harry was on the other side and soon they’d be reunited. 

Ivy opened the door and smiled brightly as she finally saw him. He looked incredibly handsome tonight. He was wearing a nice shirt, all but the top button were fastened, and a pair of trousers. It was unusual seeing him in something other than jeans, but she thought he looked wonderful. He smiled back, nervousness already seeping through his veins. In his hand was a bouquet of pretty pink tulips. 

“Hi.” 

Ivy’s cheeks flushed as he extended the flowers out to her. “Hi.” 

“I got you these.” He said, referring to the tulips. “I hope you like them.” 

She took the flowers from him and lifted the bouquet to her nose. The smell was beautiful and fresh, something she was relieved to experience. Ivy held the flowers in one hand as her other arm went around him, grunting as he embraced her tighter. 

“Thank you, I love them.” She grinned as her head fell back, her pretty eyes met his instantly. 

“You’re welcome. A little bird might’ve told me these are your favorite.” He winked, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. He hoped he didn’t disturb her hair or makeup. 

“A little bird who splits the rent with me, I assume.” 

He shrugged. “That’s a secret.” 

Ivy teasingly rolled her eyes and looked down at the flowers. “Is it okay if I put them in a vase real quick? I don’t want them to die.” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Harry nodded, following her inside as she turned on her heel and headed to the kitchen. 

He chose to stay by the door as he waited for her. All he could think about was how perfect she looked tonight. He thought the shade of blue was stunning on her and the dress was fitted perfectly. Her hair looked so soft and pretty, and the whiff he got when he hugged her was wondrous. She smelled, looked, sounded, and felt like heaven. He watched with an amused smile as she scrambled to find a vase in the lower cabinet and fill it with water. She was rushing so he wouldn’t have to wait too long, but little did she know he’d wait forever if she needed him to. Once she got the tulips in a vase and placed on the counter near the window, she rejoined him and took hold of both of his hands. 

“Thank you for being sweet.” She said in a soft voice, puckering her lips for him. 

He chuckled, placing a few soft pecks on her mouth. “Have to treat you like a princess.” 

“Well, this princess is hungry.” 

“C’mon, let’s get going.” He kept hold of one of her hands and walked her out to the car. 

“Oh, my bag.” She quickly walked to the couch to grab the small duffle bag she packed for the night. 

Ivy was surprised when Harry opened the car door for her, gesturing for her to get in. He waited until she was situated and her seatbelt was on before he shut the door. She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she watched him walk around the front of the car. He looked so good, so put together and happy. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Harry smiled at her as he backed onto the street. 

“Thanks.” She rested her hands on top of each other on her lap, looking down at the fabric of her dress. “Not too dressed up, am I?”

“No, love. You’re perfectly dressed.” 

Ivy let her eyes trail over to his side of the car. She looked over his thigh and up his side, still surprised to see he had a long sleeve shirt on without pushing the sleeves up. He looked so nice. 

“So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll see when we get there.” 

“What about after?”

“Ivy, you have to be patient, sweetheart.” Harry glanced at her, already aware she was staring at him. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you.” 

Harry gripped the steering wheel with one hand and reached over with his other one. She didn’t hesitate to rest her palm on his, sliding their fingers together. She stayed quiet for the rest of the drive. Although he was worried that something was bothering her, he didn’t want to pry. If she wanted to tell him anything then she would. 

Ivy spaced out quickly, her eyes were fixed on their joined hands but her mind was lost. All she could think about was if Harry liked her dress or not. Did he like her hair like this, was her makeup too light, were her shoes ugly? She swallowed harshly, forcing down all the worry. She didn’t want the night to be ruined by her spiraling thoughts. 

She squeezed Harry’s hand as they pulled into a familiar place. When she looked at him, he chuckled and gave her a quick glance. 

“The first time we ate here together I was an asshole. I figured the second time should be better.” 

Ivy let out a shy laugh. “I.. I didn’t expect this.” 

“Good.” Harry grinned back. “That means I’m good at surprising you.” 

There was a rush of excitement flooding through her. For weeks on end, she replayed that night with him in her mind wondering what went wrong, what she could’ve done differently. It was one of those memories that haunted her. But now he’s giving her brain the chance to replace it with a much better experience, if all goes well. Once he parked and turned off the car, Ivy grabbed the door handle, but he stopped her. 

“Wait, stay there.” 

She hesitated at first, but lowered her hand to her lap. He practically flew out of the car, racing to her side. She giggled to herself as she watched him adjust his collar before opening the door for her. 

“Harry, you didn’t have to do that.” She sighed out as he offered his hand to her, she gladly took it. 

“But I should do it, and I’m going to.” Harry squeezed her hand as he waited for her to stand up. 

He looked down at her shoes, just now getting a good view of them. They reminded him of the other heels he’s seen her wear. He really liked the way she looked in them. He shut the door as she fixed her dress and swept her hair over her shoulders. He wanted to give her a kiss, but he was trying to wait until after dinner. 

They walked hand in hand to the door, Ivy was telling him about the muffin she ate for breakfast. He was amused by her excitement, finding it rather precious that she enjoyed such trivial things. It was good to know small things made her happy. She savored the details of life, and he admired that so much. 

They were guided to a table quickly, Harry had worried that they would have to wait. Blush coated her face as Harry pulled out the chair for her. She felt like she was being treated like a queen, like someone important. She was important to him.. 

“You’re being rather sweet tonight.” Ivy smiled when he sat down across from her. 

“Trying to make up for all the times I was a dick to you.” Harry only half smiled back. 

She licked her lips and looked down at the menu, scanning her eyes over the words. “You’re doing good, I promise. I’d tell you if you weren’t.” 

“I hope you’d give me absolute hell if I did that to you again.” 

Ivy glanced up at him. “Oh, I definitely would.”

For some reason, she felt like she didn’t want to bore him with random, meaningless conversation. She let herself get side tracked on a muffin just minutes ago. Surely that’s not something he wants to hear all the time. She absentmindedly started to pick at her nail polish. It would annoy her tomorrow when she sees the chipped paint. 

“What are you going to get?” Harry asked as he lifted the menu to read over it. 

Nervousness crept through her, threatening to ruin the entire night. “Um, I don’t know yet.” 

Harry peeked at her over the top of the menu, obviously hearing the uncertainty in her voice. He could tell something was on her mind. Maybe she was really just trying to decide what she wanted, and that worried look on her face that she wasn’t good at hiding meant nothing. Or maybe it meant something.. 

“Are you feeling okay, love?”

She lifted her head, expecting to catch his stare. “Yeah, just trying to pick something.”

“Take your time. It looks like we won’t get any service tonight.” 

Harry’s huff made her gulp. He sort of seemed irritated and she hoped he didn’t lose his control. Ivy decided to attempt to ease the tension he was clearly experiencing.

“We just got seated. I’m sure someone is coming soon.” 

He chose not to reply. Her heart began to beat faster than it had been, worry was spilling into her stomach. Keeping him calm would be the best thing, so she opted to try. 

“So, have you picked a movie for us to watch later?” 

He sighed. “No, I was going to let you pick.” 

“Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want to.. then I’ll just choose something.” His tone wasn’t what she wanted to hear. 

For a handful of minutes, they were both quiet. Ivy wasn’t quite sure how to approach him. If he was irritable, she didn’t want to set him off. It would be a dream for his mood to magically change. She worried his lack of control over his emotions would make this hard for them - and not just during dinner.. 

“Is.. is that a new ring?” Her voice broke out suddenly, grabbing his attention. 

Ivy was staring at his hand, her eyes fixated on the decorations littering his fingers. He looked down, the lion shaped ring was one he hadn’t worn in a while. He assumed that was the one she was referring to. It caught the light from above them. 

“Um, no. I just don’t wear it a lot.” Harry relaxed his brows and let his lips shape to a soft smile. “You notice my rings?”

Ivy grinned back, reaching across the table to touch him. He didn’t shy away, he let her take hold of his hand so she could examine the ring. 

“Yeah, of course. I notice everything about you. I spent a long time.. staring at you.” She said with a soft laugh, slightly embarrassed by her admission. 

“You’re so.. perfect.” He squinted his eyes as he stared at her. “Just everything about you is perfect.”

She shook her head. “To me, it sounds like I’m a creep.”

“You know I stared just as much.” He saw a waiter approaching them, his eyes shifting to stare the person down. “About fucking time.” 

Ivy sighed and quickly mumbled back to him. “Be patient, okay? Don’t.. don’t get so irritated over this.”

“Ivy.” He said through a breath. 

“Harry. Please.” 

He flicked his gaze back to her. “Alright. I’ll try.” 

“Try hard, for me, okay?” She got the words out just as the waiter got to the table. 

“Okay. For you.” 

Ivy paid close attention to Harry as he told the waiter what he wanted to drink. She watched the way his eyes held a cold glare and his lips were straight. He was annoyed and it was obvious to her, so it must be obvious to this other person, too. She squeezed his hand, glad he was still letting her hold it. He returned the squeeze, but didn’t let up on his expression. She asked for water, keeping a smile on her face to be polite. 

Once they were alone again, Ivy took a deep breath and started talking. As he heard her voice, he shifted his eyes to her and let his features soften. 

“I’m excited to stay the weekend.��� 

“Yeah? I’m excited, too.” 

She felt a lump forming in her throat. He didn’t seem to be all that happy or joyful anymore. She dropped her eyes to their hands. Her skin appeared more pale than usual when compared to his sun kissed complexion. The cold metal of his rings stung her fingers, but she enjoyed the feeling. When she lifted her eyes, he gave her a slight frown. 

“M’sorry, I.. I’m acting like we’re strangers.” Harry’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper. 

Ivy licked her lips and gave him a sweet smile - maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn’t. “You’re fine. It’s our first.. date, so it's okay to be nervous.” 

He nodded slowly, but his stare fell down to the table. “I’ve never done this before.” 

“What? A date?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

She was surprised by his words, it was almost unbelievable. Harry was so attractive and confident. She’s witnessed him flirt with women and show off his charisma. From what she’s heard, he’s well versed in sexual relationships, was that the extent of it? 

“You’ve never been on a date?”

He shook his head, his stare still fixed elsewhere. She wanted him to look at her, wanted to hold eye contact as they spoke. But she knew that was probably not going to happen. 

“That’s kind of.. shocking. You seem like.. you could get a date easily.”

Harry laughed for a moment. “It’s not that I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.”

When Ivy adjusted in her chair, a piece of her hair fell forward. She sighed softly, wrapping her finger around the strand to twist it. Harry wondered if she was bothered by what he said. Was it too forward? Honesty was supposed to be the best thing. Maybe he was too rough. 

“Why not?” She slightly lifted her brows. “Never.. never found anyone worth the trouble?” 

He smirked, but it wasn’t malicious. “The whole.. being someone’s boyfriend thing never really.. intrigued me. Kinda felt stupid and pointless.” 

She moved her eyes to stare at the piece of hair she was handling. “I hope, um, your perspective has changed.”

Harry rubbed his thumb over her skin, her small hand encased by his hold. “I promise, you’re the only one who can change that for me. You’re worth everything. Every risk, every fear, everything.”

Her stare moved back to him and she let go of the curl. It fell back to the place it was before she messed with it. Harry wanted to reach over and fix it, put it with the rest of the curls and make everything perfect, but he didn’t. 

“M’trying my best to.. to do this right with you. To be a boyfriend and be.. be good to you.” He was afraid that her silence meant he was scaring her off. 

Ivy let out a soft laugh and lifted her lips to a smile. “Boyfriend, hm? You never asked me if you could be my boyfriend.” 

“Well, can I be your boyfriend?” He smiled back, lifting his brows in question. 

“I suppose so.” She lifted her shoulders nonchalantly, trying to play as a tease. 

He watched her closely, picking up on her cheeky grin and gentle giggle. “You’re so funny and.. and cute. Just makes me want to try even harder.” 

She parted her lips to speak, but they were interrupted by the same waiter that came by earlier. Ivy let go of his hand and carefully placed both of hers in her lap. She didn’t want to knock the glass over and make a mess on the table. Harry breathed out heavily, nervousness crawling into his body. Did he mess up? No, it was just going so well. Maybe she was tired of holding his hand? Maybe her arm was sore from the position? He wasn’t sure, and not knowing why was bothering him. 

“Thank you.” Ivy said with a kind tone, thanking the waiter. 

Harry bit down on his cheek as he witnessed it. It shouldn’t be such an annoying thing for him, but something about the way the man looked at her was irritating. There was a high possibility he was just being dramatic and jealous. He tried to shake the thoughts out of his mind as she gave her food order. 

Once they were alone, Ivy thought it would be a good idea to continue their conversation. She wanted to know more about him, more about his past and why he didn’t do certain things. Were relationships really such a bad idea in his mind? Or was he just being stubborn and not willing to give himself to someone in that way? She hoped he’d tell her everything without her having to ask. 

“So, I’m your first real date.” 

He let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, you are.” 

“And your first real girlfriend.” 

“My first and only, hopefully.” 

Ivy cocked a brow at him, but didn’t say anything. She hadn’t noticed he didn’t move his hand off the table until just now, when she glanced down and saw it still laying in the same spot. As much as she wanted to give him that affection, she knew she needed to focus and have a serious conversation with him. 

“I hope you.. take this really seriously with me. I.. I don’t want us to.. to be like we were before.” 

His smile dropped to a frown and his brows furrowed. “I promise, we don’t have to be that way ever again.”

“I don't want to be.” 

“Ivy, I swear.. I’ll never treat you that way again. You mean so much to me.. and I have so much to make up to you.” Harry turned his hand over, his palm to the ceiling. 

She looked at it for a long moment, considering everything in her mind before making a decision. It was obvious to her that he struggled talking about his feelings, but whenever he was with her he seemed to do it better. He liked to touch her, liked to squeeze her, liked to feel her body cruve against his hands, liked to push his lips into hers and all over her face.. he loved touching her. She would be cruel and evil to deny him of that physical touch that he craved and needed so much. 

“As long as you remember to be patient and calm and.. and nice.” 

“I’ll never treat you wrong again.” 

She smiled a little, finally moving her hand into his. This time, their fingers didn’t lock up. She rested her palm in his and let her fingers carefully drape over his wrist. When their eyes met, Harry felt his stomach churn. Was she not believing him? Was he not saying the right things? He’s trying so hard. 

“I mean.. with everyone, not just me. I want you to be nice.. and funny.. and sweet.. to everyone.” Ivy licked her lips, glancing away from him for just a split second. “Well, maybe save the sweetness for me.” 

His frown turned up. “Only for you. But, yeah, I will. I’m.. trying not to be such an.. ass.” 

“I can help you if you need me to. I want to do what I can.” 

He shook his head lightly. “You don’t have to fix me, Ivy. It’s not your job. I.. I did this on my own.” 

“But I’m not going to leave you alone. I want you to get better. If you have a better outlook on everything around you then you’ll be so much happier and positive.” She explained, hoping her words held meaning to him. 

“I know. I.. I feel better with you. You sorta.. do fix it, I guess.” 

She smiled a bit bigger. “I know, Harry. I can see how much better you are with me.” 

He swallowed gently. “You’re saving me, love.” 

Ivy smiled back, sinking her nails into her skin. “You’re letting me.” 

While waiting for their food to arrive, they kept up small talk about random little things. Ivy was the one doing most of the talking, while Harry listened and smiled at her expressive words. He thought the way she described things and told stories was incredible. Of course, he couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she was and how her eyes sparkled when she laughed. Everything about her was captivating, he was lost in her existence. 

She spoke so much because she was nervous. This was really only the second time they were actually alone together while not being mortal enemies. She felt as though it could be messed up at any second. She feared that he would get tired of her or find her boring and he’d leave, or never come back after the date was over. Maybe she should’ve stayed away from him after he avoided her - no, that was insane. That would’ve driven her mad, made her lose her mind. 

Harry was so fixated on her details and words that he didn’t realize she was rambling because she was nervous. He just thought she wanted to tell him these things to fill their silence. He didn’t mind it, he quite enjoyed it. She was paying attention to him, making a point to conversate and interact. There had been many times when they were in the same room that she ignored him, that she hated him. It was because of his own behavior, of course. He cherished every second with her now, appreciated every ounce of attention she gave. 

They ate their food while mumbling about the next night’s show. Harry told her he wasn’t really thrilled about doing it, but she convinced him it would be fine. She was excited to attend a show as his girlfriend instead of a person he couldn’t stand to be around. Although he said he didn’t have an issue with anyone knowing about them, he told her, after she asked, that he wasn’t sure who knew about their new found relationship. As far as he was aware, Niall and Emma were the only two people who knew. Whether they told everyone else or not wasn’t something he knew. Ivy wanted to ask why he didn’t tell his friends, but she refrained. Perhaps it was just a private thing that he didn’t want to spread around like a teenage boy. 

After they ate and Harry insisted he’d cover the bill, he walked her to the car and opened the door for her. She felt special, yet undeserving. He drove them back to his place, glad that Niall wouldn’t be home tonight. When they arrived, he rushed to her door and opened it yet again before grabbing her bag to carry it in for her. She brought a change of clothes for the night, but told him that she’d need to go home to change tomorrow before the show. 

“We’ve got the place to ourselves tonight, Dad is out.” He chuckled as he shut the door behind her, turning the locks. 

Ivy laughed, imagining how intense Niall might be at times. She looked around the space, somewhat remembering what it looked like. She only came by once, the night that Harry came out of the bathroom and ran into her. Unfortunately, every place they go together seems to hold bad memories for her. She pushed it aside and turned to face him. 

“Is it okay if I change?” 

“Yeah. Um, you can go up to my room or the bathroom.” 

“Okay.” She took the bag from his hand and excused herself up the stairs. 

Harry went to the kitchen to gather a few items. He wasn’t sure what she would want as a sweet snack. They decided not to get ice cream, she was full after their meal and wanted to get out of her dress. He knew Niall had a candy stash in the back of the pantry, so he stole some of that. He grabbed her a bottle of water and sat a bag of popcorn on the counter, intending to ask her when she returned if she wanted any. 

Upstairs, Ivy hesitated at first on which room to go into. She didn’t want to feel like an intruder, so she chose the bathroom. She would eventually end up in his bedroom tonight anyway, so she’ll just wait to see what hides behind the door. Changing into a pair of yoga pants, although she didn’t do yoga at all, and a t-shirt was a relief. Her feet weren’t really tired from her shoes since she didn’t have to walk or stand a lot, but it was nice to get them off and slip on a pair of socks. She was glad she packed some makeup wipes. Once her skin was cleaned and her teeth were brushed, she packed her items into the bag and zipped it up. 

When she walked out, her eyes moved over to the door she knew led to Harry’s bedroom. She thought about dropping her bag in there, but she still had that intruder feeling burning in her gut. So, she left it in the hall outside of his room, intending to pick it up later. As she came down the stairs, she saw him adjusting the hem of a t-shirt he changed into. He snuck down the hallway to the laundry room to change while she was gone. Sweatpants covered his lower half. 

“Hope I don’t scare you.” Ivy said with a laugh as he looked over and saw her. 

“Scare me?” He held his hands out, waiting for her to join him. 

She crossed the room to where he stood in front of the couch. She saw the arrangement of candies and the water he laid out, it made her heart swell. Ivy wrapped her arms around his torso and giggled as he embraced her, squeezing her tight. 

“My makeup is gone.” 

He huffed. “You’re gorgeous.” 

She didn’t say anything back, just bolted her eyes shut as she savored the feeling of being against him. He could tell she was tired, but he hoped she at least wanted to start a movie with him. As he pulled back, she grunted and yanked him back against her. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head as he gently rocked them from side to side. Ivy had dreamed of this moment, of just being close to him and holding on tight. She never wanted it to end. 

“Thank you for going with me tonight.” Harry sighed out, being patient with her. 

“Thank you for asking me to.” She mumbled into his chest, not caring how long she was holding their hug. 

One of his hands fell down her back, he missed being this close to her. “Maybe we can go out once a week. Do different things.” 

“I’d like that.” 

He hummed, kissing her head again. “Or more than once. I just want to see you as much as possible.” 

“Sorry, this week was just busy.. I’ll have more time soon.”

“Don’t apologize.” He grunted, sliding his hand to her hip. 

“I want to say sorry for apologizing.”

The laugh Ivy let out made him smile. He thought she was the funniest, cutest person on the planet. Harry pulled back, touching his palm to her jaw. She naturally leaned into his touch, moving her eyes up to look at him. The sight was marvelous, he loved to see her smiling at him. 

“You’re something else, y’know.”

Ivy grinned back, then puckered her lips for a kiss. He would be a fool to pass up the opportunity. It was gentle and sweet at first, just a series of pecks and soft laughs. But like the previous times, it quickly turned into something more. The gentleness went away as the hunger and desire to have each other took over. Harry shoved his tongue into her mouth, being greedy with the taste of her.  

Her hands went wild, running up his front to his neck, holding onto him on either side. He could feel her nails digging into his skin, leaving indents in what belonged to her. The feeling of her skin against his just made his hunger grow. He gripped her waist as tight as he could, shaping his hand perfectly to her body. He wanted to melt onto her, wanted to soak her up inch by inch. She didn’t once hesitate as he started to move. Harry backed up until he reached the couch. She grunted as he broke the kiss, but he didn’t let her slip away. He sat down on the couch and pulled her onto his lap. Instinctively, her legs fell on either side of his and she grabbed his neck, holding onto him as they reconnected their mouths. 

Her small hands held onto his jaws now, tilting his head back as she shoved her tongue into his mouth. She wanted the control, and he so easily gave it to her. Harry’s mind was long gone down a path it probably shouldn’t have ventured on, and his judgement was clouded by his own desires. While Ivy was just as lost in the bliss, she was becoming more aware of what he was doing with his hands. She grunted as he let one fall further down than it ever had. At first, she thought she was being dramatic, it wasn’t so bad. But his touch turned into kneading and she was becoming anxious about what he was going to do next. It felt nice, so she didn’t stop him. 

Harry’s kissing quickly became sloppier, spit pooling in the corners of their mouths, dripping down onto their skin. He was swiping up as much as her taste as he could, wanting to savor the flavor forever. 

Ivy was fine with everything. She was enjoying the kissing and how dirty it turned, she liked how he gripped her ass cheek and her waist at the same time, his heavy hands putting pressure against her body. She loved the way his face fit into her palms, how her hair fell over her shoulders onto him as she held him back. But it all started to fade when she realized something was happening. 

Harry was lifting his hips into her crotch, groaning as he pressed his growing bulge against her. She had never kissed someone so intensely before, especially in this position. She had never sat on anyone’s lap and let her body move against theirs before. It was new and it frightened her more than it probably should. She reached down to grab his wrist, pulling his hand off her ass. He furrowed his brows, not sure what she was doing. 

“Baby.” He grumbled out as she suddenly turned her head, ripping their lips apart. 

“No, Harry.” Ivy’s heavy breathing fanned over his skin. 

She shifted her head back, but her mouth stayed away from his. Her forehead pressed on his, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath. So much had happened in such a short time, she wasn't even sure how they ended up on the couch. Harry was good at giving her that affection she never knew she needed, so good at making her stomach drop and her heart flutter. He made her feel things nobody else had. He made her toes curl and wet spots form on her panties. She was afraid his sexual advances were too strong for her. What if she couldn’t keep up with him? What if he wanted something now and she refused, would he leave her? It must be tiring having to wait, and must be irritating getting denied. 

“Not here.” She whispered out, not quite sure how to turn him down. 

“Do you wanna go to my bedroom?” He reached for her lips, but she didn’t allow it. 

“No.. I.. No, I don’t want to do anything.” Her words came out in a sigh, her eyes squeezing shut as she mentally screamed at herself. 

She wanted this with him more than anything, more than with anyone before. Why was she being so hesitant, so afraid? Her mind began swirling, her heart still racing. There was no way he would put up with his for much longer. He was going to grow sick of her games, of her leading him on and going along with his actions just to deny him. Of course, it had only happened twice.. surely it wasn’t that irritating. Her mind was too busy to consider any other possibility. 

He felt a pinch in his heart, only because he was embarrassed he took it so far again. “Oh, m’sorry.” 

Her lip was quivering, tears threatened to build up in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I.. I can’t right now.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” He calmly spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head and leaned back, giving him a bit of space. 

At first, he wasn’t going to move his hands from her body, but when she looked over at the cushion next to him and started to move, he let her go. She fell on her butt next to him, her hand sweeping her hair over her shoulder. A heavy sigh fell from her lips, he could see how sad she was. 

“Baby, it’s alright. I promise.” He carefully touched her thigh, hoping not to frighten her. 

“I didn’t mean to.. to lead you on again.” Her voice was frail, almost like she was going to cry. 

“Ivy, it’s fine. We got a bit heated again, that’s all. No worries, okay?” Harry didn’t know how else to say it. He didn’t want to get her riled up over nothing. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

He splayed his fingers on her leg. “It’s perfectly okay.”

“You’re gonna get tired of waiting.” She whined softly, her head turning towards him. 

Instantly, his heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. A single tear slipped down her cheek, her skin was flushed as her emotions raged inside of her. He shook his head and leaned against her, wanting to put his arm around her but he didn’t want to scare her off. 

“No, I won’t. I’d wait forever for you, Ivy.” Harry pressed a kiss to her temple. 

Her eyes fell down to his hand, she wanted to hold it so bad. She’s come to realize recently that holding his hand might be her favorite thing. He does so much with his hands. He plays the guitar, holds a microphone, runs them through his hair, grips the handles of his motorcycle.. She’s seen his fists clench in anger, felt how comforting his warm palm is on her skin, watched how he taps them on his leg absentmindedly. She loved his hands.. and she wanted them all over her body, but not tonight. 

“Do you want to.. keep kissing?” He was still leaning into her, his voice soft as he spoke next to her ear. “We don’t have to.. to do anything else.” 

The idea was intriguing, but she was unsure about it. What if it happened again? They were quick to go off the deep end. It wasn’t possible to just softly kiss and carefully touch each other.

She shrugged. “I.. I dunno.”

Harry stared at the side of her face for a moment, thinking of what he could do to fix her mood. Maybe she was just anxious and needed to calm down. She didnt appear to be tired, but maybe she’d rather go lay down than risk anything else happening on the couch. He took a deep breath and bit on his cheek as he thought about what to say. Ivy picked at her fingernail, not wanting to rip it but fighting the instinct to. 

After a few seconds, he finally spoke. “Do you want to watch a movie or.. or go to bed? Either is fine with me.” 

She already knew the answer she was going to pick. Carefully, she placed her hand on top of his, copying the positioning of his fingers. He let a smile come to his lips, seeing her do that was more magical than he could ever explain. There was a time when he never imagined this could be real, yet here they are now. 

“Can we go to bed? I’m tired.” She looked over at him, a resting pout on her lips. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

She swallowed. “Sorry, I keep changing the.. the plans you made.” 

“What do you mean?” His brows furrowed slightly. 

“First, no ice cream now this.. no movie.” 

Harry let out a light laugh, shaking his head at her. “Oh, love, that’s fine. It’s not a problem, I promise.” 

She gave him a sad look, not believing what he was telling her. He closed the space between them and placed a kiss on her lips. It was nothing too crazy, just a gentle peck. She wanted to beg him for more, but she didn’t open her mouth as he leaned back. 

“Any time I get to spend with you is special.. no matter what we do.” 

Even though she felt bad for her decision, she was ready to be next to him under his covers. Harry took a minute to clean up the stuff he got out for them, with Ivy apologizing several times for making him do all this work. He told her it wasn’t a worry and they could easily make up their movie date some other time. She wasn’t convinced he was actually okay with her decision, but she tried to ignore it. He didn’t appear irritated on the outside, so maybe he wasn’t. 

Harry guided her upstairs, letting her go in front of him. She grabbed her bag that she left outside of his door. He gestured her to go in first, so she did. It was dark when they walked in, but Harry flicked on the light before shutting the door behind himself. Ivy looked around the room, curiosity consuming her. Harry leaned against the door as he watched her. His room was interesting to her. The walls were an off white shade, she wondered if he was allowed to paint with his rental agreement or not. Of course he had the usual pieces of furniture like a dresser, a desk, and a short bookcase, but her attention went straight to the details. There was a band poster in a frame on one wall, but the rest of the walls were nearly bare. He had a collection of vinyl records resting in the bottom slots of the bookcase. The rest of the shelves were filled with CDs. A turntable sat on top of the case. She thought the collection was impressive, and she was wondering what all it entailed. His desk caught her eye. It was plain as far as the build went, but what sat on top of it was interesting. He had a metal cup full of pens and other writing utensils, plus a pair of scissors. There was a short stack of books sitting there neatly, and beneath the desk on its shelf sat a bigger assortment of books. She could tell they weren’t regular books, but rather journals or notebooks. It was hard not to think about what was inside those books. Did he keep a diary similar to how she did, or was it more of a creative outlet? 

She wondered if this was how he felt in her room, curiosity bubbling and her mind taking in every single detail. It was like she was getting to know him even more by just looking at his belongings. Of course, in the corner he had a guitar resting on a stand and another one hanging on the wall near it. There was a loose piece of paper resting on the desk, a pen next to it. She wasn’t even aware of her movements until her fingers gently pressed on the paper and slid it on the desk. She turned it so she could read the jotted down note. 

pick up Ivy’s flowers at 5 shop closes at 5:30

A sweet smile covered her lips as she read over the words he wrote. She thought it was adorable that he put down a reminder for himself. Harry pushed himself off the door and crossed the room. He took the bag out of her hand and sat it on his desk chair. 

“My curious little cat, hm?” 

Blush appeared on her face and she let out a gentle laugh. “You have a lot of journals. Do you write?” 

He lifted a shoulder, trying not to be too serious about it. “Just.. stuff. Like.. notes, poems, lyrics.”

“Poems and lyrics?” She lifted a brow, that curiosity was just eating her alive. 

Harry chuckled, a smile shaping to his lips. “Yeah.” 

“You write songs?”

“I mean, sorta, I guess. Nothing serious.. M’not pursuing it. Just do it for fun and to get stuff off my mind.” He explained. 

She slowly nodded as she looked around the rest of the room. For the most part, he was neat and tidy. She noted the stark difference between his bed and hers. His was a size smaller and covered only by the usual blankets and pillows, while hers was littered with plush animals. She definitely didn’t expect him to have those sort of things, though, it was just notable. 

“What do you write about?” 

Her question made his chest tighten. Although he wanted to be completely honest with her, he’d be lying if he thought it wasn’t nerve wracking. What if she thought his answer was strange, what if it made her mad? He licked his lips and pushed down a gulp. 

“Lots of stuff.. including you.” 

Her head turned towards him, her sparkling eyes went wide. “Me?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sometimes about you.” 

Without saying anything, she turned her attention back to what she had been gazing at. But there was a smile stuck to her lips and a warmth in her heart that pulsed hard. He wrote about her? He didn’t specify if he wrote poems or songs or notes about her, but something in her mind told her it was all three. Of course, it was all three. 

“Not too weird, am I?” He said with a laugh. 

Ivy turned to face him, a smile on her face. “I think I’m the weird one between the two of us.”

He took a few steps closer, reaching out to touch her waist. “You’re adorable, not weird.”

One thing he loved doing was watching her as she trailed her eyes over his body. She was a curious girl after all, it was in her nature to explore. Her eyes fell to his arm as she wrapped her hand over his elbow. His tattoos caught her attention so easily. It was like it was the first time she'd seen them. 

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

“Mhm.. just looking.” Her fingers started tracing down his arm, slowly and steadily. 

Harry had an idea lurking in his mind. It was something he wanted to do the last time her eyes scanned over his tattoos, but he was too nervous to bring it up. Now, things were different. He felt more confident with her. 

“I can show you all of them.. if you want.” 

Her eyes flicked up to his. “Really?”

“Yeah. There’s some you haven’t seen.”

“I’d love to look.”

He took a breath and clenched his jaw as he waited to ask her a question. His eyes poured into hers, his focus so sharp and intense. She felt her cheeks blushing red hot, her eyes stuck to his despite wanting to look away in shyness. 

“Is it alright if I take my shirt off and change into some shorts?” He gently lifted his brows. 

She nodded, not saying anything, just putting on a cute smile for him. He squeezed her waist once before letting her go. She watched as he went to his dresser and pulled out a drawer. Did he want her to leave the room while he changed? She didn’t know what to do. Her stomach started to churn as she contemplated how to react. Maybe he didn’t care. Just as she started walking to the door, he turned around. 

“Running off already?”

She froze, looking back at him. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

Harry smirked. “You can stay, love. I’ll turn away from you.” 

She felt embarrassed. He could see she wasn’t completely comfortable with her own behavior, so he made it simple for her. He turned back around and dropped the sweatpants to the floor. A pair of gym shorts replaced them. He normally slept in just his underwear, but he knew it was too much for her right now. He wanted her to be comfortable and relaxed, not stressed or tense over his clothes or lack thereof. She didn’t watch him, despite not twisting around to avoid getting a glimpse. When he let out a sigh and his footsteps filled the room, she thought he was done. She looked up in time to witness him pull his shirt over his head. Their eyes met as he tossed it on the desk, intending to put it away later. She had never seen him with his shirt completely off, and it was an incredible sight. 

Her throat began to close in as her mind drifted. He was so toned, his muscles built and his physique was perfect. He was stunning, she felt as though her physical appearance would never compliment his. He held out his hand and nodded his head towards the bed. She took it with ease and followed behind him. 

Harry sat down on the foot of his bed, parting his knees to drag her between them. She held her breath as he carefully moved her closer, his eyes locked on her face to make sure she was comfortable. He wanted to catch every expression, whether major or subtle. Ivy ran her eyes over his collarbones. She’s seen those birds peak out from beneath his shirt before, but she hadn’t seen them in full. With more confidence than she had all night, she lifted her hand and pressed her fingertips to the bird inked on the right side of his chest. 

“Yours are.. a lot more detailed than mine.” She mumbled softly, her gaze shifting to the other bird. 

“Hiding yours, hm?” He smirked as her eyes shot to his. 

Ivy chose to ignore him, and instead just return to her exploration. Even though she had seen most of them, she was still intrigued to get a better look. She ran her hand over the butterfly on his stomach, that was still her favorite one, then carefully down to the laurels resting dangerously low on his abdomen. He chuckled slightly as her delicate touch tickled his skin. She grinned back, amused by his innocent reactions. It was hard to believe at times that such a hardened soul like his could express such simple reactions. She knew it was possible, though, she just had to work hard to get it out of him. 

“You got this the first time we met.. well, sort of met.” She said with a sigh as she traced her fingers over his right arm, the snake curling around his bones and muscles was something she could never forget. 

“I remember. We should’ve met for real, but I was a dick.” He frowned when her eyes moved back to his. 

“Maybe so.” 

He dropped his gaze down to his leg. He knew she was more familiar with his arms, especially the usual exposed areas, so he wanted to make sure she saw the other things he had. Harry gently took hold of her wrist and moved her hand to his thigh, letting her touch the tiger sunk into his skin. She felt as though this was the most intimate spot she had touched him. Something about it was intense, bone rattling even. She gulped softly, wondering what this one meant to him. She didn’t want to intrude, perhaps it meant nothing or maybe it meant more than he was willing to tell her. That went for each of them. She just admired them, she didn’t ask. 

The gulp she pushed down was audible, her voice was as light as a feather. “Do you want to see? Mine aren’t as impressive.” 

“If you want me to see them.” Harry smiled sweetly as she sucked on her cheek and let her face go red.

For a split second, she screamed internally begging herself to stop before it even started. But it was quickly silenced as she grabbed his index and middle fingers, bringing his hand up to her hip. She smiled gently as she placed his fingers on her body. He rubbed his thumb over the waistband of her pants, his eyes locked on her. She pushed his hand down, forcing his fingers to move the fabric. He took over, but didn’t dare go too far. He slid the side of her pants down until he exposed the fabric of her powder blue colored cotton underwear. She bit down on her cheek as he carefully pulled the fabric down until he saw the little tattoo, a four leaf clover. It was a simple design, thin lines and no shading. 

“A lot of people don’t get to experience a full life. I’m lucky to be where I am.. even if it’s not forever.” She explained without him asking her to, but she figured he wouldn’t mind. 

He didn’t, of course. He thought the meaning was nice, it meant something special to her. She’s lost two very important people in her life, so reminding herself of the luxury of being alive was extremely meaningful. He pressed his thumb over the clover, the surrounding skin turning pale as he pushed into her. He let up the pressure and gently tapped it. He hoped he’d get to rediscover it soon, get to press his lips to it and make sure she knew how lucky he was to have her. 

“Some of that luck must’ve rubbed off on me. How else do I explain how I won you over?” His cheeky smile made her playfully roll her eyes. 

She pinched his cheek, going straight for his dimple. “Well, you do touch me there more than I think you realize.” 

Harry stared at her hip as he adjusted her pants back, covering the tattoo and her skin. He wished he could’ve seen more of her, but he was well aware that wasn't what she wanted right now. 

She sucked in a deep breath as she debated whether or not to show him her other one. He was literally in the room with her when she got the flowers on the back of her arm, and the one in the bend of her elbow, the small star, was clearly visible - but there was one more he didn’t know about. Ivy pushed away her fears and anxiety as she lifted her shirt. The second the cool air hit her skin, she felt her stomach churn. The waistband of her pants was thick and it came up high. She was thankful the part of her body she was the most insecure about was mostly covered by the fabric. Harry smiled gently as she grabbed his hand and brought it up to her torso, placing it beneath the edge of her bra. Her boobs were covered by her shirt, she didn’t want him to see anything beyond the tattoo. He moved his eyes to the spot and shifted his thumb, revealing the small tattoo. The style of the butterfly matched the clover, and the flowers on her arm - fine line, delicate, thin. 

“That’s all.” She mumbled quietly, biting her cheek as she watched him stare at her skin. 

He wondered what was beneath her shirt, tucked into her bra.. but he had to force that thought out of his brain. It would be insensitive and disrespectful for him to sit there and think those sort of things when she plainly told him she wasn’t interested in any of that right now. Instead, his arms slid around her, locking her in place. She grabbed his face with both hands, placing a kiss on his puckered lips. 

“Are you ready to cuddle, little bug?” 

“Mhm.” Ivy was blushing, per usual. She tried to slip out of his grip but he wouldn’t let her go. She sunk her nails into his shoulder, almost forgetting he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Harry.”

“Fine.” He let out a huff as he loosened his arms and pulled back. 

“Which side is mine?” She asked with a soft laugh as she crawled on the bed. 

“Whichever side you want.” He stood up in time to see her plop down on the bed. 

Unlike hers, his bed wasn’t in the corner of the room so both sides were open. She claimed the spot he normally favored at night, which made his heart skip a beat. Seeing her in his spot, her hair spread out over his pillow, was like a dream. 

He didn’t want to leave her waiting long, so he turned out the light and joined her. There was a street light that offered them a glow, peeping in through the space between the curtains. She watched him slide under the covers and roll over towards her, his greedy hands reaching out for her. 

“C’mere.” He muttered, dragging her closer. 

She sighed in content as she relaxed into his body, her face nestled in the crook of his neck. She liked the feeling of his warm bare skin, it gave her comfort she couldn’t describe, 

“Did you enjoy tonight?” He asked through a heavy exhale. “I know we didn’t do everything we planned.”

“It was lovely. I had a good time.” 

Harry pressed a kiss to her head. “Even though I was a bit of an ass at the restaurant.”

Ivy pulled her hand up, tucking it between their bodies. “You just have to be more patient, but yes, everything was great.” 

He could tell she was comfortable by the steady, slow breathing she was doing. It wouldn’t be much longer before she fell asleep. With one arm around her back and the other hand resting on her waist, he kept her close. His thumb rubbed slowly back and forth, soothing her so easily. 

“We can watch a movie in the morning before Niall gets back.. have the living room to ourselves.” He kept his voice low. 

She hummed. “That sounds good, yeah. Get more cuddles.”

He kissed her again, just to give her as much affection and attention as he could. She must’ve been more worn out than he thought, because she grew silent quickly. He wasn’t necessarily tired, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. And he sure wasn’t about to leave her in the bed alone. He’d lie awake next to her for the rest of his life if he meant he could hold her while she slept. 

There was a lurking thought in his mind, though, that was attributing to him staying awake. He thought he did something wrong during their date, that maybe he didn’t make it perfect. If he did make a mistake, he believed that she would tell him. She’s good at letting him know when he’s acting a certain way or when he’s in the wrong. But she seemed to enjoy everything, even the change of plans. Maybe he was just overthinking it. Disappointing her in any way was something he feared. 

“Harry..” Her soft voice broke the silence. 

“Yeah?” 

She shifted slightly, returning her hand to his waist. His stomach twisted as she gently rubbed her fingertips over his skin. 

“If I ask you something, will you be honest?” 

He licked his lips. “Of course.”

Her lips brushed his skin as she spoke, creating goosebumps and sending chills through him. “Are you mad that I.. stopped us earlier?”

“No, Ivy. I told you it’s fine.” He tightened his hold on her waist. 

“I don’t want you to leave me if I.. take too long to try.” 

He grunted, bringing his hand up to her head. He gently grabbed her jaw and tilted her head back so he could see her. She had a frown on her lips and a sadness in her eyes that made his heart drop.

“Baby, I wouldn’t do that.”

Hearing that pet name made her feel a little better, but that worry was still so intense. She pouted her lips out, her eyes closing to avoid his stare. His thumb rubbed slow circles into her cheek in an attempt to calm her. 

“I want to.. just not right now.”

Being open with people was something he struggled with, but he’s trying hard to be different with her. He wanted to ask her questions and get to the bottom of the issue or of her worry, not just assure her everything is fine. He had to open himself to be there for her. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Ivy shifted her head back into his neck, wanting to be comfortable. “Yeah.” 

He waited a long moment before saying anything. The topic shouldn’t be one they avoid or are ashamed to talk about. It should be a normal, respectful thing. It was in both of their best interests if they knew certain things about each other. 

“Are you.. are you a virgin?” He asked with a light voice, not wanting to make too big of a fuss over it. 

Ivy let out a shaky breath that hit his skin. It was an inevitable topic that she couldn’t escape. If Harry wanted to know something about her, then she wanted to tell him. Clearly, it’s on his mind - for a reason she’s yet to know. 

“Um, no. Technically, no.” She replied with a gentle sigh. 

“Technically?” 

She dropped her hand to the small of his back, curling her fingers into her palm. “Just did it once.. and it was a while ago.” 

Harry thought maybe he went far enough. What if she thought he was being inappropriate? Despite having doubts, he kept on. 

“Was it.. was it bad?” 

She swallowed, pushing her face further into his neck. “Yeah, kinda.” 

“M’not trying to be.. invasive, just want to understand your mind. Why you might be unsure about it.” Harry was quick to explain. 

She nodded, relaxing her fingers against his back now. “I’m not unsure.. I just know I’m not ready. I want to, trust me, but it’s only been a week.”

“I know, and I don’t want you to feel rushed at all. It’s fine with me.” Harry gave her waist another squeeze. “And I definitely don’t want you to think I’m just trying to get in your pants.”

She let out a soft laugh that eased his nerves. “I know.” 

He tightened his arm around her back as she yawned, sleep threatening to fall over her. She hid her face in his neck, trying her best to bury herself in him. It wasn’t long before she yawned again, causing a smile to shape to his lips. She was even more adorable when she was tired. He wanted to snuggle her closer, but they were as close as humanly possibly already. When Ivy yawned for the third time, he knew she was tired and needed to rest. He didn’t want her to stay up late and worry with him. They could talk in the morning. 

“Go to sleep, baby.” He smiled as he kissed her forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Her words came out in a gentle murmur. 

Another kiss was placed on her skin before he closed his eyes, soon joining her in a slumber. 

—•—

Ivy wasn’t sure what was going on as she started to wake up. Her eyes slowly opened, the sun was shining bright through the window. She grunted and turned her face back down where it had been resting, right against Harry’s shoulder. He heard her little noises and felt her stirring. He dropped his phone and reached over to grab onto her. Sometime during the night they ended up like this - him laying on his back with her body draped over his. Her arm was tucked under him and the other around his torso. 

“Finally waking up, love?” He said in a groggy voice as she 

“Hmm.. what time is it?” She mumbled back, lifting her head to get a better look at him. 

He chuckled as he saw her messy hair, her bangs all over the place. “Little past eleven.”

She groaned, letting her face fall back on him. “Why did I sleep so long? We weren’t even up late.”

Harry smiled as her hand moved from his side to the butterfly inked onto his skin. He wasn’t sure if she purposely did that or if her hand just so happened to land there. 

“You slept like an angel, only moved a few times.” 

Her breaths were still slow and heavy. “You’re just comfortable and good at cuddles.”

“Who would’ve known?” He playfully pinched her hip, making her hum. 

“M’glad I just know.. nobody else.” 

There was a certain feeling of pride and triumph that lived in her when it came to knowing she was Harry’s first real relationship, the first person he’s held intimately. It made her feel like a queen, like she had some weird kind of power. Nobody could know him in that way - maybe with other things, but not in this way.

“Jealous, huh?” He teased. 

“Maybe.” She picked her head up again, her pretty eyes finding his. “How long have you been up?”

He shrugged. “Since nine, I think.”

“You could’ve woke me up.. didn’t have to stay here with me.” 

He scoffed, putting on a dramatic expression. “Are you kidding? I wasn’t gonna pass up the opportunity to be next to you, baby.” 

Ivy rolled her eyes and pushed her lips on to his. They shared a few sweet pecks, both laughing as she started to plant a trail down his jaw. His fingers dug into her hip as he tried to drag her closer, but she was already molded onto him. When she caught his gaze again, she gave him a cheeky smile. 

“What movie are we going to watch?” She curiously asked. 

“Whatever you want.”

She sighed, but kept her smile. “Always that answer, hm?”

“You get whatever you want, princess.” He winked, spending her cheeks into a blazing fire. The simplest things drove her wild. 

It wasn’t long before he guided her down the stairs to the kitchen. He offered to make her a quick late breakfast and since she was starving, she didn’t pass on it. It was a nice meal consisting of fried eggs and a few pancakes he mixed from a box. It filled her up so good that she was yawning when Harry joined her on the couch. 

It took a few minutes for her to decide on a movie, but once she did, she got comfortable against him. Her legs were pulled up on the couch, her arm tucked around him. He held onto her shoulders like she was going to slip away if he didn’t. He was less focused with the movie and more concerned with Ivy. There wasn’t anything specific that he could pick up on, but he just had a worry in his gut. Maybe this was normal for people who are in relationships, maybe it was something that just happened. Worry, concern, care, caution - he wasn’t quite sure what to call it.

When he draped his arm over her shoulder, she didn’t hesitate to reach for his hand. He smiled as she started playing with his fingers. Her eyes were glued to the television screen, but her mind was going fuzzy. She wasn’t tired, but rather she was content. It was hard to think of a time when she’d been this relaxed before - there wasn’t a time to reminisce about. He made her calm, happy, and comfortable. He was just sitting next to her with his hand around her, yet it felt like her world was exploding with euphoria and butterflies and rainbows and everything happy. Was it love? She couldn’t determine that just yet. 

Harry didn’t realize he had dozed off until the sound of keys rattling in the door woke him. He grunted, trying to move his hand but Ivy’s grip was too strong. He stopped attempting and let her keep hold of him. She was awake, despite feeling so peaceful she never fell asleep. The movie wasn’t long from its end. 

“You alright?” He mumbled just as Niall opened the door. 

“Mhm.” She squeezed his fingers. 

Niall appeared next to them, an amused look on his face as he saw Harry’s expression. “Look like you just woke up.”

“I’ve been up.” Harry sighed back. 

“He was just snoring.” Ivy chimed in with a laugh, tugging on his hand. 

Harry smiled, amused by her comeback. He didn’t defend himself, only because he knew it was true. Niall didn’t bother them anymore, he waved them off as he mentioned going to his room. Before he exited, though, he reminded Harry that he needed to practice one of the songs they would be playing later on that night. 

“Are you hungry?” Harry asked her, a deep exhale following his question. 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“Guess I need to go mess around on the guitar.” He didn’t seem excited. 

Ivy sat up, letting go of his fingers so he could stretch his arms out. “Do you need me to go home?”

He furrowed his brows and reached up to grab her waist. “What? No.”

“Don’t you need to be alone?”

“Who said I needed to be alone?” He said with a chuckle, sitting up to join her on the edge of the couch. “You can stay, babe.”

Every time he used one of those sweet names her heart would swell and butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She smiled as she felt her cheeks warm up. 

“I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be.” He closed the space they shared and gently pushed his lips on her. “I promise.”

Ivy let him kiss her for a few moments, humming as he grabbed her jaw to hold her still. As much as he wanted to swallow her whole, he knew he had to get upstairs. He let her go and took her hand to lead her upstairs. 

She was quite curious about his ability to play the guitar, something about it was so interesting and intriguing. She wasn’t opposed to watching him, in fact she was excited to. The possibility of him wanting her to leave almost felt like a fear. She didn’t want to miss out on the experience of watching him. 

When they got to his room, he told her she could do whatever she wanted while he got the guitar off of the stand. He pulled out an amp and set everything up. Ivy chose to stand in the middle of his room on his rug, her hands folded behind her back as she observed his every move. As he turned around, he didn't expect to see her standing still. She grinned at him, pulling a chuckle out of his mouth. He thought she was just the most adorable thing ever. 

“Can I sit here?” She asked. 

Harry sat down in his desk chair after he turned it to face the amp. He gave her a nod and a smile, not sure why she was so giddy about this. Maybe she thought it was cool that he could play the guitar? It wasn’t a revolutionary thing in his mind, but maybe she thought so. 

Ivy sat down on the rug, just a few feet from him, with her eyes stuck on his hands as he rested his fingers over the strings. He glanced around at everything to make sure it was all set up properly. When he was sure that he did everything right, he ran his fingers down the strings, the sound spilling from the amplifier.

Although he was very familiar and comfortable with the song he was about to practice, he had never had such an intense audience before. He’s played plenty of shows, done many band practices, had Niall’s hard stare watching every move of his finger when he first learned to play - but nobody was as intimidating as Ivy. He was feeling anxiety pour into his veins. What if he messed up and she thought he was stupid? The thoughts were endless all of a sudden. 

Harry was trying not to look directly at her, but it was hard to resist her. She was sitting with her legs crossed and her hands resting in her lap. Those sparkling eyes were fixed on him as she waited patiently for him to start. He took a deep breath and slowly pushed it out, not sure how this was going to go. If he thought about her any longer, his heart was going to explode. 

He didn’t tell her what song he had to work on, but she knew what it was the moment he started the opening chords. She smiled big as he played the riff so confidently. He seemed very sure of himself. While she had only been to a few shows, she knew she’d never heard them play this song before. Niall wanted to add it last time but they didn’t end up doing it, so he told everyone yesterday after confirming they’d do the show tonight that he wanted to perform it. Ivy quite enjoyed the Def Leppard song and she was excited to see them do it live later on. 

It had been a long time since they last did the song, so Harry was trying to loosen up his memory of it. He didn’t do the lead singing during the song, Niall preferred to do it instead. Right now it was almost like he suddenly forgot what he was supposed to be doing. His fingers slid off the strings, making him groan and shake his head. He should’ve grabbed a pick but he forgot to. He looked down at Ivy, whose eyes were just as wide as when he started. She smiled sweetly, hoping to give him some silent encouragement. 

He started over from the start. Everything was going well, he even got further than he did in his first attempt. But that all came crashing down when his eyes fell down on her and she was biting down on her lip, still smiling like she was witnessing a miracle. She was so happy to be in the room with him, and to be able to watch him do this just made her even more excited. Ivy was just as obsessed with him as he was of her, and right now that was obvious. 

“Fuck.” He uttered under his breath as he missed a few chords. He tried to keep going, but it messed up his momentum. 

Harry shook his hand, trying to loosen up his fingers. Maybe he was a bit rusty. He picked up where he messed up, getting it correct this time. He kept going, tapping his foot to keep his pace right. He tried to keep his eyes glued to his guitar, but Ivy being in the room was forcing him to think about her and not the song. He shot his eyes to her again, her cheeks were rosy and her hands were clasped together. She was so entertained and content with this, yet he was struggling to keep ahold of himself. 

“Damn it.” His curse was a bit louder than the last one. 

Her smile fell down to a subtle frown. Harry pushed his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. He wasn’t sure why he was fucking up so much - well, he knew, he just didn’t want to admit it or seem like he was blaming her. She wasn’t doing anything. She’s literally just sitting there watching him, her lips sealed. There were no audible distractions, she wasn’t walking around or calling his name. She was just there. He thought it would almost be better and easier if she were jumping around or messing with stuff in his room or doing anything other than putting her pretty eyes on him. 

“Am I distracting you?” Ivy asked in a soft voice, fearful of the answer. 

“No.” He quickly replied. 

“You keep messing up.” 

A laugh slipped out with his breath. “Yeah, thanks, love. I know.” 

“Sorry.” She mumbled back, her eyes falling down to her own hands. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He sighed, disappointed in himself for making her suddenly uncomfortable and nervous. He had a way of doing that, unfortunately. 

Ivy’s hair fell over her shoulder as she hung her head. She wasn’t trying to be in his way, she even offered to leave before he ever started. Perhaps he was just being too nice to her. He should’ve told her to go home. She felt an uneasy feeling building in her stomach. 

Of course, seeing her like that made him feel like shit. He propped his guitar against his desk and got into the floor with her. She huffed as he got closer, slipping his hand onto her neck to get her to look up. She didn’t at first, though, she didn’t want to be in the way. 

“You’re a great distraction, babe. Just so pretty.. can’t stop looking at you.” He tilted her head up and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Don’t be sad, Ivy.” 

The way he said her name made her heart drop. She frowned harder, a confusing sadness filling her up. Harry pressed another kiss to the spot, not moving his lips away at all. 

“What’s the matter, sweet girl? You were just smiling so big f’me.” 

She let out a whimper as she curled her fingers around his wrist. “I’m in the way.” 

“No, you aren’t.” 

“I should go home for a while.” 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t want you to go home yet.” 

“I’m making you mess up. I.. I don’t want you to get mad.” She kept her voice so light and gentle, it broke his heart to hear her speak that way - almost like she was afraid. “Don’t like it when you get mad.” 

He was upset with his own actions now. He had a tendency to lose his control and unfortunately Ivy was too familiar with it. But he didn’t feel that way right now, he wouldn’t do that to her over this simple situation. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

“M’not gonna get mad at you, baby. You just make me a little nervous, s’all.” 

She closed her eyes. “Is it okay if I go home?” 

Had he done too much? Had he messed up again? Maybe he was making an expression that made her feel this way, something he didn’t notice he was doing. Or perhaps she was just nervous about a potential blow up from him? There had to be a reason she was so upset with him, but he had no clue what he did. Was it too complicated for her to explain and for him to understand? 

“I.. I really don’t want you to go.” He leaned back some to give her space, but he kept his hand where it was and she didn’t try to let it go. 

“We’ll be together later, though.” 

“Ivy, what’s wrong? I.. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did.” Harry’s brows fell as worry sank into him. “Why do you wanna go?” 

It was hard for her to tame her wandering mind, and it was disappointing to know that she had failed to control it yet again. She dropped her gaze down to her own legs, trying to vanish into thin air. She didn’t want to confront her fears and admit to Harry what was on her mind, but there was no escape. 

“Because, I’m in the way and you won’t tell me that. You don’t wanna hurt my feelings and that’s okay, but.. I know I’m in the way and you need to practice.” Her explanation was heartbreaking for him. 

Maybe it was true in some sense. She wasn’t literally in the way or doing something to purposely distract or annoy him, but her presence made it hard for him to focus on anything else. There was nothing done to put blame on. She didn’t purposely do anything to him. It was his fault, if anything. He can’t focus on anything else when Ivy is around. She took up every inch of his mind, filled in every space. She meant everything to him, how could he try to put his attention on something else? Maybe her being here would make things difficult. Was it safer for their relationship and his mood to let her go for a while? 

“I guess if you want to go, you can. I can’t make you stay.” He exhaled slowly, wishing this was happening another way. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” 

He smiled, shaking his head lightly in disbelief. “You always apologize when you don’t need to.” 

“I can’t help it.” She grinned back, glad to see that he was at least appearing to be okay with this. 

“I, um, I can drive you home and.. you can have the afternoon to yourself until tonight. I’ll pick you up.” He offered, not sure of what else to say. 

“I can get Emma to come get me, so you can keep practicing.” 

He thought about debating it with her and offering his services over and over until she agreed, but he chose not to. There was no point in adding any fuel to this small, simmered down fire. 

“I’ll text her.” She grabbed her phone from the spot on the rug where she abandoned it earlier. 

Harry watched as her fingers tapped on the screen. Although it bothered him to know she was wanting to leave, he completely understood why. He just hated it. He didn’t want her to go so soon. They hadn’t been able to spend much time together and this weekend was supposed to make up for it. He felt a bit of irritation towards Niall for pressuring him to practice the song. He had sent Harry multiple texts the past two days insisting and reminding him to practice. It was his own fault that he waited until the day of the show to do it. 

“Okay, she said she’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” Ivy tossed the phone back down and turned her attention back to Harry. 

“Hey, m’not mad at you, okay?” 

She felt a lump start to form in her throat. “I know.” 

“I promise. I don’t want you to think you did something wrong.” 

Ivy didn’t really want to discuss it, in fear that it would lead to a disagreement or a misunderstanding, so she just reached down and took hold of his other hand. She leaned into him, her lips pushing into his. He hummed gently as she held the kiss for a few long seconds. 

“Can we kiss until it’s time for me to go?” She asked it so innocently. 

He smirked, releasing her hand to grab onto her waist. “Definitely.” 

She moved onto her knees, giggling as she grabbed his face on either side to pull his head back. He groaned into her mouth when she shoved her tongue past his lips. He was starting to believe that she was getting more comfortable and confident with him, that she was doing what she wanted to do rather than waiting for him to do it. 

There was a desire to relax into her, to lay her down on the floor and show her how special she was to him - but he couldn't do that. She didn’t want that yet. So, he let his hands move up and down her waist, toying with her hips without going too far. While he was hesitant with his placement, Ivy was running her hands all over him. She kept coming back to his neck to hold him on either side, her thumbs pushing up under his ears. She loved to feel him in her hold, loved to know she had him all to herself. There was a sense of possession she felt. Harry had no issue with whatever she wanted to do. She was in control. 

“Mm, Harry.” She gasped as she pulled back from his mouth. “I.. I wanna try something.” 

He lifted his brows as his eyes opened. “Whatever you want.” 

She nodded gently, a smile shaping to her lips as she pictured the idea in her mind. It was something she wanted to do so badly, something that was becoming irresistible. He waited quietly for her to tell him, figuring she would since she mentioned it. 

“Promise, anything?” 

Harry smirked and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Anything is fine with me, promise.” 

Ivy took that as permission and approval. She grabbed his face by his jaw again and yanked him back to her. His hand slid to the small of her back as she started the kissing back. He was confused at first because nothing seemed to be different. He was leading the kiss, his tongue sweeping through her mouth so easily. It wasn’t until she moved her hand to the side of his head did he realize what she wanted to do. 

She slid her fingers into his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp as she guided her touch to the back of his head. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and gave him a light tug. He let out a light moan, the feeling of her fingers in his hair was doing incredible things to him. He squeezed her waist tight and spread his fingers out on her back, hoping to send her a sign that he was enjoying it. Ivy couldn’t stop herself from pulling harder after a few minutes. At first, she was only going to use one hand, but as she realized how much she liked doing it, she added her other one. Harry let out a groan as she raked her fingers through his hair and tugged at his roots. 

There was a strange feeling she was experiencing as she did it. Her brain interpreted it as some kind of comfort, like doing this was giving her a boost of serotonin. Harry’s long, curled hair was one of favorite things about this physical appearance, and being able to do whatever she wanted with it felt surreal. Neither of them were certain or aware of how long it went on, but eventually Ivy had to take a break to wipe the corners of her mouth off. Harry chuckled as she carefully slid her hands out of his hair. 

“Was.. was that too much?” She asked as she relaxed her hands on his shoulders. 

“No, that was pretty nice.” He licked his lips, flicking his eyes down to her mouth. 

She took a deep breath and slowly pushed it out. “I really like your hair.” 

“Yeah? It’s all yours to pull on, baby.” He wasn’t shocked to see her cheeks flush up and her eyes dart away from his. 

“I wish I wasn’t so scared.” Her lips pouted out. 

Harry gripped either side of her waist. “You don’t have to be, Ivy, but it’s okay to be.” 

She pushed out a huff and rested her temple against his. “Soon.. but not now.” 

It was unfortunate that Emma drove a bit faster than Ivy expected she would. When she called to say she was outside, Harry mustered up his courage to fake a smile and assure Ivy he would be fine. They shared a tight hug, swaying from side to side for a few long, drug out moments. Harry kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, then all over her face until she was giggling and trying to fight him off. It ended with a kiss to her lips, one that he wished would’ve lasted forever. Before he knew it, she went out the door with her bag and headed home. 

Niall had stepped outside to talk to Emma while she waited for Ivy, so he joined Harry in the kitchen once the girls drove off. He could tell Harry wasn’t happy and that his mood from this morning had greatly shifted. He had a straight line on his lips and no expression on his face. He was back to his usual self, who he was when he wasn’t with Ivy. Niall didn’t bother him, instead he went back to his room to give him as much space as he needed. The last thing Niall wanted to deal with tonight was Harry’s sour mood at their show. If he let him be, maybe he’ll get over it. 

“So, how was your date?” Emma grinned as she quickly glanced over at Ivy. 

“It was nice. We had a good time.” 

She hummed back, then brought up something she had been curious about. “Did you guys.. do anything after?” 

Ivy shrugged. “Just went home and talked.”

“Talked? That’s all?” Emma laughed a little. “No like.. kissing or anything?” 

There was a pinch in her stomach as she replayed the memories of her time with Harry in her mind. It didn’t last long enough and it was her fault. Sure, they’d be together in a few hours and will be able to spend another night together in his bed, but he wasn't here now. It hurt her more than she was willing to admit. She shouldn’t have let her anxiety get to her. She could still be sitting in his floor watching him play his guitar. 

“Yeah, just that. I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” 

“Did you have a fight?”

Ivy shook her head. “No.. we didn’t.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Emma about it, it was more so she was hoping to forget it all happened. Not the date or the cuddling and kissing, but the disagreement they had. No matter how good things seemed to be with him, she couldn’t shake her worry off. 

“Okay, sorry.” 

She was battling the thoughts. She knew it would do no good to bottle it up. Emma was her best friend, she knew how to help her if she needed it. Maybe she could just vent and Emma would listen without offering any advice. Ivy didn’t want advice, she just needed someone to know what was going on. She opted to stay silent. 

When she got back home, she decided it would be a good idea to take a shower and handle all of her personal business before it was time to get ready for tonight’s show. She had a few hours, Harry had reminded her of what time he’d pick her up before she left, but she wanted to make sure she got everything done with plenty of time to spare. That extra time would definitely be spent on an internal freak out. She would worry about her hair, her outfit, her makeup, her skin, every single thing. Not only that, but she’d get anxious about being around Harry. It was almost like he was still that person that hated to be around her, or pretended to hate it. She had to constantly remind herself that he wasn’t that way anymore, and neither was she. 

Her shower was incredibly relaxing. The steaming hot water washed away all of the tension she held in her body. It was like a refreshing start for the evening. She would be lying if she told someone she wasn’t thinking about Harry every second since being apart from him. She hated herself for being so stubborn, for wanting to leave him when it would’ve just been so easy to stay there. She could’ve gone downstairs and watched something or went to his bed and laid down on her phone while he practiced. There was no need to run away, yet she did. 

That horrible cycle of anxiety and worry was unstoppable. As she combed the conditioner through her hair, she reminded herself of how her fingers wrapped into Harry’s hair. She wondered what he was up to, if he was still practicing or if he even started back once she left. As she ran the razor up her legs, she thought about how Harry had gripped her through her pants, kneaded her flesh hard. She had really liked the way it felt when he touched her that way, touch her like she was all his - because she was, of course. She was all his and she wanted him to know that.. 

When she washed herself in a certain place, her mind started to drift off. She imagined how it would play out, how Harry would coax her into it, how he’d guide her to the bed and slowly start the whole process. Maybe he would be gentle with her, or perhaps he preferred it rougher? She didn’t know for sure, but she pictured him being more gentle at first, easing into it since he knew she had very little experience. Harry was very possessive with his hands. She thought about how he’d grab her and squeeze her all over. And his lips, she couldn’t ever stop thinking about kissing him. What would it be like to have his lips trail below her chin, to her neck and under her collarbones? It was an intriguing idea, would he tend to each of her breasts before kissing down her stomach? How would it feel to have his lips linger around her pelvis? 

Ivy snapped out of her trance as she realized her fingers were circling her clit. She blinked a few times, trying to bring herself back to reality. She withdrew her hand and picked up on where she left off with bathing herself. She wasn’t intending on doing that now, she had to get this shower over soon. That brought back memories of the handful of times she found herself thinking about him and slipping her hand into her panties. Most of the instances occurred before they made things official, before he even spent that time with her that night. No matter when it happened, she quite enjoyed it each time. 

Figuring out what to wear was more of a challenge than it had ever been, even more than last night when she had to choose a dress for their date. Currently, she was trying on a square cut top, the hem lined with tiny lace and a pair of light denim shorts. There was a thin cardigan she paired with it just for coverage. The straps of the top were short, they didn’t come down her arms very far at all. She wondered if her cleavage was too much. She posed in the mirror, bending forward to see if too much would show. It was definitely more than she usually put on display, but the thought of Harry actually liking it was making her lean more towards it. She had to remember she wasn’t dressing for everyone else, just for herself and Harry. If she liked it, or if he liked it, then she’d be fine. 

“Do you think a skirt would look better with this?” She turned to face Emma, who was seated on her bed with her eyes glued to Ivy. She wanted to be as much help as possible. 

“You can try one. Maybe one of those faux leather ones you have, those are always cute on you.” Emma suggested, trying to picture the combination in her hand. “Aren’t you wanting to wear heels? I think they’ll go better with a skirt.”

Ivy walked to her closet, sighing heavily as she realized Emma was right. She had been so worried about her top that she forgot about the shoes she planned on wearing. Her favorite part of any outfit was her shoes, and tonight she had picked a pair of tall, chunky black heels with skinny ankle straps and closed toes. They would make her significantly taller than her normal height, like most of her heels did. She loved the way she looked in them, and how comfortable it was walking in a thicker heel. Shoes were never something she was unsure about. 

She came back to the middle of the room with a few options in her hands. She tossed them down on her vanity chair and looked over at Emma. 

“A flared or a tight one?” 

“Try a tight one first.” Emma smirked, prepared to convince her to chose that one. 

Ivy was her best friend, and she had finally gotten herself into a relationship. She wanted Ivy to be the hottest she possibly could for Harry, especially while going out. She knew that if Ivy walked out of the house in a garbage bag Harry would still be in love with her, but she wanted her to wear something eye catching. Emma was trying her best to encourage Ivy’s sexual exploration, without actually saying anything about it, so maybe she could channel it though the clothing. If she felt confident, felt hot, and knew Harry thought she looked stunning, then maybe she’d ease up on her worry and go there with him. Emma wasn’t going to pressure her or make fun of her for not trying, but she knew she’d love it - especially with Harry - if she gave herself the chance to try. 

Ivy rolled her eyes with a smile as she caught on to Emma’s intentions. She knew Emma was going to push for her to wear the hottest items, she always did that whenever Ivy asked for advice or assistance. She picked the black skirt with a small slit on each thigh. She knew black would look the best with her shoes and her light purple shirt. An excited cheer and clap came from Emma as Ivy pulled the skirt up her legs, adjusting it on her waist. 

“It’s definitely tight.” She frowned slightly when she turned towards the mirror. 

In actuality, she looked perfectly fine. But to her, it looked like a mess. She gulped quietly and just stared at her stomach. Was it too unflattering? She felt like it was definitely drawing a lot of attention to a place she didn't want it. 

“You look great! I love it.” Emma said with a hopeful tone, wishing that Ivy would stop being so insecure. 

“Harry’s going to think I’ve gained twenty pounds since this morning.” She lowered her eyes down to her thighs. The rest of her body was fine, she didn’t have any bad thoughts about anything. It was just her stomach. “I don’t like this.” 

“Ivy, c’mon, you look beautiful.” Emma jumped up and quickly ran over to her the second Ivy started to pull down the skirt. 

Emma stopped her and fixed it back to where it was. She grabbed Ivy by her hips and rotated her back to face the mirror. Her hands gripped Ivy’s waist as she stared into the mirror. 

“You look stunning. You always look stunning.” 

Ivy shook her head. “I look fat.” 

When she pressed her hand over her stomach, Emma grabbed her wrist and pulled it back down. “Stop, you look perfectly fine.” 

“Harry’s not gonna want to have sex with me.” Her words were soft, barely audible. 

Emma felt her own heart sink as she saw the sadness coat Ivy’s features - the same ones she knew Harry adored more than anything. It was obvious to see that Ivy was no longer feeling any sort of confidence. She was starting to consider not even going tonight. Everything was going wrong. 

“Did something happen with him?” Emma kept her voice just as light, in case Ivy was close to breaking down. She didn’t want her to ruin her makeup. 

“What do you mean?” 

Emma licked her lips and stepped between the mirror and Ivy, who’s eyes were fighting back tears at this point. “Did you try.. something and he.. didn’t want to?” 

Ivy dropped her eyes to the floor. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she tried to occupy her mind by picking at her nail polish. She had just freshly painted them today after her shower, but she didn’t care. Emma thought of the worse possible answers that could come from Ivy’s mouth, and it was all making her very angry. She furrowed her brows and carefully grabbed both of Ivy’s elbows to get her attention. When her eyes lifted, Emma saw how watery they had become. She shook her head gently, silently telling her not to get upset. 

“I’ll fucking kill him myself if he said something about your body.” Emma was serious. 

Ivy frowned again. “No, it wasn’t that.”

“Ivy.” 

She didn’t believe her. Emma was sure that something must have been said to make Ivy feel this way. She had been anxious about her outfits before, but this felt different. Emma was afraid of what had happened.  

“He didn’t say anything.” Ivy defended him, because he had truly done nothing wrong. “He wanted to. I stopped him.. again.” 

“Again?” 

She looked away from Emma, too embarrassed to face her. “He wanted to.. the night he came over here. He.. he wants to, so bad, Emma.” 

“It doesn't matter if he does. You have to want to, too.” 

Ivy let out a humorous laugh that resembled more of a sigh. “I do.” 

“So what happened then? If you want to and he wants to.. then what? Are you just trying to wait a bit longer?” 

Ivy shrugged, she really didn’t know how to explain it. “It’s only been a week. I.. I would feel like a whore if I tried to do it this fast.”

Emma sighed. “That’s not what a whore is, Ivy. You aren’t going out and hooking up every night. If you want to do that with him, then you can. He’s your boyfriend.” 

Her lip was quivering but she was fighting so hard to stop it. She spent so long trying to finalize her makeup look, she didn’t want to have to do any touch ups to it. 

“When he tried.. what was he doing? Just kissing you?” Emma wasn’t asking to be nosy, unlike earlier in the day when she wanted all the details. 

Ivy nodded. “Just.. kissing and touching. We were on the couch and.. I was on his lap. It.. it was perfect. I stopped him.” 

Emma was familiar with Ivy’s small amount of experience, and she easily remembers how upset Ivy was after her first time. They didn’t know each other then, but the story had been told to her. She was extremely insecure and afraid, and the fact that it sucked from the start to the end didn’t help. Why put so much effort into doing it again if it’s just going to be a bad experience? 

“When he touched you.. did you feel bad? Like, did you feel insecure?” 

Ivy felt her heart flutter as she recalled how it made her feel. There was nothing wrong with what Harry did. She loved every second of it. There was just something inside of her that made her stop, that made her afraid. 

“No, I actually didn’t. He touched me like.. like he loved everything about me. He always does.” 

Emma smiled genuinely. “That’s because he does, Ivy.”

Ivy pulled back from her grip and walked to her vanity. She sat down, pushing aside the skirts to rest her arms. She wanted to fall apart and sob, but she knew Harry would be here in less than half an hour and she couldn’t fix her makeup that quick. She had to pull it together. 

“Listen to me.” Emma started with a gentle sigh, she stayed put. “I understand that you think it’s too soon.. and there’s nothing wrong with that. But don’t let that ruin it for you. You spent a long time trying to figure out if you liked him or not. And I know you do, so much.” 

Ivy rolled her lips in, fully aware that she’d have to reapply her lip gloss before she left. It was frustrating to feel this way. She was so close to being dressed, to being ready to go have fun. Her brain got in the way, her mind took over and spiraled again. 

“Just.. don’t be scared. Harry’s in love with you.. he’s not going to care about how you look in the skirt. You don’t have to have sex with him tonight, but don’t be so nervous to let him do things with you. And, I know you get shy, but.. talk to him. Tell him what you want, how you feel.” 

All she could do was sit there. She couldn’t come up with anything to say or even an expression to put on. Emma grabbed the pair of heels she had sat out for the night and brought them to her. She dropped them on the vanity and huffed. 

“You look sexy. Stop being so sad. Harry’s going to explode when he sees you.” 

With those encouraging words, Emma left her room to give her some space. It was difficult to gather her thoughts, but she had no other choice. She took a few slow, deep breaths while staring at the heels. If anything, she was perfectly confident in her choice of shoes. Perhaps she could use that to boost her mood and give her the confidence back. A wild thought popped in her mind. If she was so worried, she could always call Harry to get his thoughts on her outfit. Surely he’d be honest, right? Ivy groaned to herself, her own thoughts were beginning to irritate her. She didn't need his approval, or Emma’s, or anyone’s. She snatched the tube of lipgloss out of her makeup bag and applied a new layer. 

She returned in front of the mirror after slipping and securing the heels on her feet. She flipped her long, slightly curled hair over her shoulders and smiled at her reflection. Harry loved her hair - he thought it was just so pretty and soft and shiny. She looked at her lips, smirking to herself. Harry loved kissing her - god, he loved it more than anything. Her lips were so thick and soft, her tongue so warm and the taste of her mouth was like heaven. The more she looked at each part of herself, the more she thought about Harry and how much he seemed to adore everything about her. Slowly, but surely, that confidence was building back up. 

It wasn’t her first time pacing at the door waiting for Harry to show up, but it seemed to get harder with each time. Ivy was alone in the house, Emma had already left with Niall. She would be coming back here, while Ivy would return to Harry’s place after the night was over. Her duffle bag was packed with similar things that it was full of the night before. She was trying to control her breathing before she got in the car with him. The last thing she wanted was for him to ask her if she was okay. She didn’t want to relive what happened earlier in her bedroom, she just wanted to have a good night. The ding of her phone made her heart jump. She looked down at the screen, a nervous feeling sinking into her bones. 

Harry: coming to the door now 

Not even thirty seconds had passed before Harry knocked on the door. Ivy composed herself the best she could and opened the door for him. She was met with his grin, but it wasn’t enough to distract her from how handsome he looked. He wasn’t wearing his usual dark t-shirt, instead he was wearing one the shirts he never buttons all the way up and pushes the sleeves to his elbows. She smiled nervously as he looked down her body slowly, then drug his eyes back up. 

“Damn, you look incredible.” He told her with a gentle smirk, reaching for her body. 

She let him grab her and yank her closer. The feeling of his warm body against hers made her worries fade. Her hand gripped his waist on either side as he mumbled another compliment in her ear before pressing a kiss to her jaw. 

“I missed you.” He added, pulling back to look at her. 

“I missed you.” She smiled a bit bigger this time. “Sorry I left so soon.” 

He shook his head and pushed his lips onto hers. She moaned softly into the kiss, wishing it would’ve lasted longer. She barely got a taste of him before he leaned back. 

“Don’t worry about all that. I’ve got you now, hm.” 

Ivy let out a breath as she checked the time on her phone. “We should probably go.” 

“Do you have everything?” He asked, glancing down at the duffle bag that was discarded on the floor. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

Once she closed the door, Harry carried her bag to the car and tossed it in the back seat. He made sure to open her door and help her in, telling her yet again how good she looked. It was hard to resist her face turning to a blushing mess, his words just did that to her. 

The ride there was peaceful. She held onto his hand as he drove, his eyes staying on the road for the most part. He let her mess with the radio until she found something for them to listen to. Ivy would give him a glance every now and then, just making sure that he was okay. He didn’t appear to be in any bad mood, he was rather pleasant. She was glad, because there was that worry in the back of her mind that he was upset about what happened earlier. There was no way she was going to let something ruin her night, so she ignored all that and just gave him quick glances. 

At one point, she found herself staring at him for longer than just a moment. She admired his profile, how perfect he looked with the street lights and the moon glowing on his face. She thought he was just the most gorgeous thing ever. He didn’t have a hair out of place. His cologne filled the car - she loved it so much she’d be willing to drown in it. 

When they arrived, Harry told her he needed to get inside within a few minutes to set up everything and do a quick sound check. Ivy was willing to let him go whenever he had, but it seemed like he didn’t want to. He helped her out of the car and immediately grabbed onto her waist. He pushed her against the car, his height towering over her despite the heels she had on her feet. She pressed her hand to his chest, smiling sweetly as he stared down at her. 

“I thought you had to get inside?” She said with a soft laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“I can’t leave you yet.” He muttered back, playfully pecking her cheek a few times. 

“You said everyone was waiting on you.” 

He rolled his eyes and let a smirk cover his mouth. “They can wait a bit longer.” 

The softest moan slipped out of her mouth as he slotted his lips with hers. Within a second, they were swallowing each other whole. Harry’s hand fell down to her hip and he gripped her tight, pushing himself against her. There were sparks flying around them as they got lost in the kiss. Ivy was fighting her thoughts, and quickly losing because it wasn’t long until she was dizzy and mindless. The sounds of their mouths meeting and moving together always made her stomach fill with butterflies. It was so intimate, so special to hear it each time. Harry grunted when she reached up to grab onto his hair. Her fingers scraped his skin as she got a handful in the back, tugging hard. He wanted her to grab it all and do whatever she desired. It was taking every ounce of control he had to prevent himself from growing in his pants. He didn’t know it, but Ivy was creating a small damp spot in her underwear - something that happened so easily when he did certain things to her. 

Harry grunted when she finally slowed the kiss and pulled her lips away. A light gasp came from her as she realized she could breathe better now. He pecked her cheek again, sighing gently as he realized they needed to get inside soon. As much as he’d rather spend every second with her, he couldn’t do that yet. 

“M’gonna have a hard time keeping my hands off you later.” He said with a chuckle as she rubbed her hand back down his chest, stopping so she could settle it on his waist. She loved touching him there. 

“I don’t want you to keep your hands off me.” She bit down on her lip as she smiled, a redness covering her face. 

“Well, I.. I don’t want to do too much, y’know.” 

Ivy gave him a small shake of her head. “I want you to do whatever you think I’d like. I don’t.. wanna be scared anymore.” 

He licked his lips, tasting a bit of her gloss that he stole off her mouth. “As long as you’re honest with me. Tell me what you like, stop me when you don’t want it, all that, okay?” 

“I will.”

He pushed out a big exhale and gestured his head towards the building. “Guess we should go in?” 

Ivy replied with a nod, but when he took hold of her hand to walk her across the parking lot, she stopped him by grabbing his wrist and tugging on his arm. He looked back at her, not sure what she was doing. 

“Wait.” 

Harry turned back to face her, a concerned look on his face. “What is it?” 

All she could think about was the speech Emma gave her in her room earlier. There was no need to be so shy with Harry anymore. He wasn’t some stranger she didn’t like or a person who wasn’t considered her friend. He was way more than she ever imagined he would be. Harry had become her world, he had taken up every inch of space in her mind and in her heart. She could talk to him if something was on her mind, he’d listen with no hesitation. 

“Do you think I look alright?” She blurted the question out before ensuring herself she wanted to say it. 

He furrowed his brows and squeezed her tight. “You’re gorgeous.” 

She swallowed loud enough for him to hear. “Do.. do you like my outfit?” 

Harry moved one hand up to her face, cupping her jaw to keep her head steady. “Your outfit is perfect. I love it. You look incredible, as always.” 

“Okay.” She nodded lightly, not sure if she believed it or not. Maybe he was telling her the truth, but she didn’t agree with it. “I.. I was worried you wouldn’t.” 

Harry frowned. “Baby, why wouldn’t I?” 

“I dunno.” She uttered back. 

He planted a kiss on the center of her forehead, pushing her bangs into her skin. “Don’t ever worry about something like that, alright? I don’t want you to think that ever again.” 

Hearing that was a relief. A weight lifted from her shoulders. His calm, low tone was comforting to her worried nerves. It was no lie, he would never think bad of anything she decided to wear. Ivy felt better now, and she hoped her happy feeling carried on throughout the night. 

The taste of the alcohol slipping down her throat made her hum. Her eyes closed as she savored the sweet pineapple flavor accompanied by the burn of the liquor. Emma was standing next to her, talking about her recent date with Niall, as they waited for the show to start. Ivy was doing her best to listen, but she was spiraling in her own mind. For once, it wasn't anything bad or frustrating on her mind. Instead, it was all good things. She was thinking about the kiss they shared in the parking lot and how she’d get to see Harry on the stage soon. She thought about the promise they made, that alone was making all the good chemicals ramp up and rush through her body. The feeling of his hands on her body would return soon, and she was beyond ready. 

“I see you’re feeling better.” Emma said with a lift of her brow as Ivy opened her eyes. 

“Yeah, me and Harry talked.” She nodded, glancing down at the ice swirling in her plastic cup. “He likes what I’m wearing.” 

Emma dramatically sighed and threw her hand up. “Of course he does! You’re hot!” 

Ivy rolled her eyes and smiled. “Whatever you say.” 

“Whatever Harry says.” She grinned back, teasing Ivy was kind of fun but she’d never mean it in a bad way. 

“I told him I.. I want him to touch me more, like, um, he did last night.” 

Emma sipped her drink then put on a proud smile. “You’re being brave. I’m proud.” 

“I just want him to.. to do what he thinks I might like. Maybe that way it’ll be easier for me to realize or decide when I’m ready.” 

Emma nodded as she listened, completely agreeing with what Ivy was saying. She was rather glad that Ivy had come around to this idea. She knew that her lack of experience was hard to handle, but if Ivy would let herself open up, she might enjoy what could come from it. 

“So you don’t think you’re ready right now?” 

Ivy let out a sigh as she thought about that. She wasn't really sure because she had no idea what to expect. How can you know if you're ready? Do you just have some sort of feeling or little voice in your head screaming that it was time? How do you figure out that sort of thing if you’ve only had one bad experience? 

“I don’t know. What am I supposed to feel? How can I tell?” 

Emma swallowed the rest of her drink and took a deep breath, prepared to help Ivy out as much as she could. “Well, for me with Niall.. it was like I was comfortable and relaxed. I knew I wanted to share that with him. The best way I can put it is.. my body told me.” 

“See, I don’t understand that. I keep getting these feelings but then I get scared.” 

“What feelings?” 

She knew she could only tell Emma this and not Harry. She was open to talking about things with Harry, but this specific thing was not going to be one of them. It was very embarrassing for her to admit to herself, let alone say out loud to him. She was intending on keeping this between her and Emma only. 

“I get.. y’know.. wet, or whatever.” She shrugged, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible. 

Emma smirked, cocking a brow at her. “Wet? So.. just when he touches you or what?” 

“Even when he just gives me a quick kiss. I.. My stomach drops and.. I have this burning feeling.” 

“Hate to say it to you, girl, but.. I think your body is trying to tell you that it’s time.” Emma was being honest. 

“It’s only been a week!” 

“But you’ve known him for a while.” Emma reminded her, making her eyes widen as she emphasized it. “You’ve been wanting him. Admit it to yourself.” 

Ivy’s eyes rolled, a gentle shake of her head followed. “It’s too soon.” 

“Then relax! Just kiss the boy and have fun with him until you’re ready.” Emma gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Trust me, he’s too obsessed with you to go anywhere. You have plenty of time.” 

Maybe Emma was right and Ivy was just overthinking everything. Harry definitely had a possessive nature when it came to her. He wasn't going to just let her slip away or disappear himself. She had time.. 

Experiencing the show was much different for her tonight than it ever had been. She wasn’t a newcomer to the group, she wasn’t trying to avoid Harry’s stare, and she wasn't angry with his existence. Tonight, she was able to enjoy herself fully. She sang and danced with Emma like the world wouldn’t be there tomorrow when she woke up. Harry watched her for most of the show, smiling and shaking his head at her performance. She was confident and comfortable and definitely drunk. 

He had to remind himself to stay focused when he played his guitar, though, so he made sure he looked out at the crowd, too. Niall reminded him before they got on the stage to remain focused on his job and then he could give Ivy all his attention after. Since he knew she loved the shows and was excited to hear him perform, he agreed with Niall and kept himself on track with everything. Ivy was dancing like nobody else was in the room, and that alone was motivation for him to put on a good show. She wasn't dancing to music coming from the speakers, she was dancing to his voice singing the songs she loves. It meant something to him, it was special this time. 

When they reached the slower portion of the show, Harry used his minute long break to chug some water before kneeling on the edge of the stage to talk to her. It was still loud in the bar, but he was able to hear her. 

“You’re so good!” She grinned ear to ear, her voice loud as the alcohol increased her mood. 

“Gonna sing one for you next.” He winked, causing a blush to rise to her cheeks. 

“Can I give you a good luck kiss?” She asked sweetly, fluttering her thick lashes at him and making the cutest face. 

“I’d be sad if you didn’t.” He leaned down, chuckling as she reached up to grab his neck. 

She barely reached him, but when she did her lips connected to his. He wanted to pull her on the stage and handle it, but he couldn’t. The kiss was short, but sweet. She smacked her lips on his chin for an extra bit of luck before letting him go, knowing he had to get back to his microphone. 

Harry was sure he’d never been in such a great mood while performing before. He had something to really look forward to after like everyone else, aside from just wanting to drink the night away. He had someone waiting for him to get off that stage and join her.

Niall started the first of the slower songs by picking up his guitar. Harry had abandoned his for this portion of the show, not wanting to get distracted by Ivy. He knew he could sing perfectly fine while looking at her, but playing the guitar was another story. Her heart swelled as she heard the lyrics coming from Harry’s mouth. She loved this song so much, and he had promised her he’d sing it the next time she was there. She will always hold some regret in her heart for missing that show, but she had a feeling that things wouldn’t be the way they are now if she hadn’t missed it. 

“Lips of an Angel” was one of her favorite songs, she considered it a classic that everyone should know. She’d play it in her room or in the car and sing every word. Hearing Harry sing it was breathtaking. He made all of her favorite songs even more special than they already were. And of course, his eyes were pouring straight into hers as he sang. There was nothing quite like getting his intense stare in such a meaningful moment. 

For the remainder of the show, Ivy cheered him on and continued to dance with Emma. They were both worn out by the time it came to an end. Emma told Ivy that everyone would be out to join them within a few minutes, and the best place to wait for Harry would be at their usual reserved table. So, they headed that way once everyone walked off the stage. She pushed the beaded curtain out of the way and sighed as she entered the familiar section of the building. They went straight to their table and each claimed a spot. Emma sat next to her, instantly sparking up a conversation. 

“Harry’s so cute with you. I saw you guys kissing.” She giggled excitedly, her mind a little boggled from her drinks. 

Ivy couldn’t do anything but grin. “He’s so sweet. He’s the sweetest thing ever.”

They shared a laugh, both very giddy about the topic. Emma leaned in closer, her finger moving to lure Ivy in. She moved further in until their heads almost touched. 

“He’s gon’ be all over you.” She said with a cheeky laugh. 

“I hope so!” Ivy was just as happy about the idea. 

“Can’t believe you turned Harry into a sweetheart!”

Ivy let out a laugh and shook her head. She didn’t say anything though because she was easily distracted by Harry, who appeared from the crowd with a smile on his handsome face. She completely ignored Emma and stood up to greet him. He grunted as her arms wrapped around his neck, one set of fingers going to the back of his head. He snaked his arms around her body, so glad to finally be with her again. This time, he wouldn’t have to leave her. They could stay together the rest of the night. 

“Missed you.” Ivy said in a quiet voice as her arms slowly fell from his neck. She drug one down his chest, touching his exposed skin. “You did so good.”

“Thanks, love. You had a good time, didn’t you?” Harry chuckled as she looked up at him with red eyes and a sleepy look. “Someone’s a bit drunk, yeah?” 

She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

“M’not too sure about that, babe.”

“Sit down with me! Wanna be close.” She begged with the pout of her lip. 

He nodded, which immediately prompted her to sit down and pull on his hand, wanting him right next to her. He laughed as she manueved his arm around her shoulders and positioned him so his hand was dangling over her. She took hold of it and turned her head to see him. She had the most precious look on her face, stars in her pretty eyes, 

��Thank you for singing the song for me.” 

“You’re welcome, babe.”

“Baby.” She corrected him with the lift of her brows. 

He smirked back, leaning forward to kiss her temple. “M’sorry, baby.” 

“So, I heard it’s official!” Michelle yelled with joy as she approached the table. 

Ivy leaned into Harry’s shoulder, hiding her bashful face as he laughed and replied to Michelle. He knew that having this kind of attention would make Ivy feel shy, but he hoped she would be okay with it once everyone got their initial reactions out. She tapped his hand, trying to get his attention. 

He looked back at her. “Hmm?”

“Just wanna see you.” She bit down on her lip, her eyes fixated on him.

He furrowed his brows gently. “Everything okay?”

Ivy didn’t say anything, just nodded and smiled. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he assumed the alcohol had a lot to do with it. He told her earlier she could drink as much as she wanted and he’d drive them home. He didn’t feel the need to get drunk tonight. She was with him now, so there were no feelings to fight against. 

Unlike previous times, Cory and Niall were the ones to bring the free trays of beer gifted by the owner to their shared table. Ivy instantly received a look from Michelle, a smirk plastered over her red painted lips as she lifted a brow. Ivy shook her head, already knowing what she was going to say. Harry laughed as everyone started to chant Ivy’s name, expecting at least one chugging battle. She was trying to ignore them, but even Harry was encouraging it.

“Just do one, c’mon.” He said with a laugh, finding it hard to believe all of this was real. 

For once, there was no awkward tension amongst the group. He wasn’t trying to sneak glances at her or avoid her gaze. Nobody was expecting an outburst from him. It felt really good to not have to worry about any of that anymore.

“Okay, fine, just one.” She sighed as she took the cup of beer from Niall, who started the countdown. 

Michelle was quick to bring the cup to her lips, but she wasn’t quite fast enough to keep up with or outdo Ivy. It didn’t take long for her to finish. The empty cup fell to the table and a proud smile covered her lips. Niall offered her another cup, and she took it with hopes of actually enjoying this one. 

Harry eyed her, wondering if she’d accept anyone’s competition, but she shook her head at Zayn who was trying to get her to cave in again. When Ivy leaned up to talk to Emma, Harry’s arm fell to her back, his hand sliding to her waist. He kept a hold on her, not wanting her to get too far. He stayed quiet, which was somewhat part of his usual behavior, and just listened to her talk. They were talking about something Niall said to Emma the night before that made Ivy blush. Emma had always been open with her about certain things, and even though it embarrassed her, she always listened to the stories. Harry wasn’t necessarily listening to them, mainly because he couldn’t hear over the music, but his focus was starting to shift elsewhere. 

Across the table was Cory, and his eyes seemed to be placed on something that didn’t belong to him. If Harry couldn’t hear the girls clearly, there’s no way Cory could. So he wasn’t listening to them talk, he was just staring at Ivy. Harry slid his tongue over his teeth as he tried to relax himself. He could feel a fire lighting in his gut. He couldn’t stand when Cory looked at Ivy like that before they were together, and now that they were he was even more annoyed. There should be some respect shown now. It was obvious they were together, and it should be understood that Cory had no chance. He tightened his hand on her waist, his fingers digging into her body. She noticed how the pressure changed, but she didn’t check on him. Maybe he was just giving her some affection. 

“I told him I’d try.” Emma said with a squeal, shooting her eyes over at Niall who was standing up talking to Zayn.

Ivy grinned back, grabbing her leg to squeeze it excitedly. “You’re insane.”

“It’s just a position, Ivy. You’d probably like it.”

Her eyes widened and she gave Emma a stern look. “No! We’re not making this about me.”

Emma giggled, covering Ivy’s hand with her own. “You have no idea what’s coming for you, honey.”

“I know what I’m not going to do.”

Emma was amused by the redness covering her face, it wasn’t just the alcohol that had her flustered. Her eyes dropped to Ivy’s waist where Harry’s hand was glued to her body. 

“The way he touches you.. you’re gonna have the time of your life.” 

Ivy shoved her gently, bringing her hand back to her own lap. “Shh, I don’t want him to hear this.”

Emma leaned slightly to peek around her. She lifted a brow as she saw Harry’s hardened expression. While his touch was clearly on Ivy, his attention was not. He looked as if he would rip someone’s head off if they spoke to him. His jaw was clenched and his brows were low. Emma followed his eyes and instantly saw what he was staring at. 

She hit Ivy with her knee, her eyes shooting back to her. “He’s pissed.”

Ivy leaned in closer to hear her whisper. “What?”

“Harry’s not happy.” Emma gave her a slightly concerned look. “Someone’s got his eyes on you and it’s not Harry.” 

Ivy looked from the corner of her eye, even though she already knew who Emma was referring to. “Ugh, why?”

Emma shook her head and pursed her lips. “He’s stupid if he thinks nobody notices.”

“He always does this.” Ivy sighed out, wishing it was different. 

She didn’t want Harry to get upset with his friend, but she knew it would happen if Cory didn’t stop. He shouldn’t want to stare at her, especially now that things have changed between her and Harry. It didn’t make any sense. She’s expressed several times that she’s not interested and that definitely hasn’t suddenly changed. 

“We’ll finish this later.. you better tend to Harry.” Emma warned, nodding her head towards him. 

It was unfortunate that she had to pause her conversation to deal with this, but she had no choice. If she didn’t intervene now, there’s no telling what could happen. Harry’s emotions are very sensitive, and when it came to Ivy he could be a ticking time bomb. Ivy shifted so she was facing him now, fully surprised when he didn’t immediately look at her. She placed her hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze, still not getting his attention. 

“Harry.” She said his name in a sweet tone, widening her eyes and putting on a soft expression. That didn’t work. 

She sighed, tired of her failed attempts already. She reached up and grabbed his jaw, angling his head towards her. He didn’t stop her, of course. He wasn’t going to ignore her for too long. When his eyes met hers, she gave him a smile. She expected his hard features to soften, but they didn’t. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked with a pout, pretending to not be aware of the issue.

“M’about to go off.” 

Ivy leaned up so she was blocking Cory from his view. “It’s okay.”

“It’s fucking not.” 

She chewed on her cheek as she looked over his expression. He was still clenching his jaw and furrowing his brows. His eyes were full of anger but she knew it wasn’t directed towards her. She wanted to sweeten him up, wanted to make him chuckle and grin. It didn’t seem like he was willing to do that now. 

“Are you mad?”

“What do you think?” He snapped back, his anger getting the best of him.

Ivy gulped softly, her hand falling to his chest. “I think.. you’re being mean to me for no reason.”

“There is a fucking reason.” Once again, he was quick with his remark. 

“I didn’t do anything.” She couldn’t stop her lips from dropping to a frown.

The moment he saw her do that, he felt a blow to his gut. He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. His hand loosened on her waist as he moved it to the small of her back. She wasn’t sure what to expect, part of her was extremely nervous. As his eyes opened, she was somewhat relieved to see he wasn’t as angry looking. 

“I know you didn’t, m’sorry.” 

Ivy grabbed his other hand and guided it to her thigh, letting him decide where it should go. He moved it to her hip and smirked as he pulled her closer. 

“Don’t be shy.” He said with a laugh as she looked down at his lap. 

“If we were alone, I would.” 

Harry leaned into her, his lips heading straight for hers. She turned her head in time for him to hit her cheek, making him smirk against her skin. 

“You’re being a tease, hm?”

She put her hand on his elbow, wishing she could do more but the fact they were in public made her nervous. She didn’t say anything, just moved her lips to his dimple. He felt the slickness of her lipgloss on his skin. 

“We could always sneak away.” He suggested, smiling as she pinched his skin. 

“Harry.” A nervous breath followed. 

Before he could say anything else, Michelle tapped on Ivy’s shoulder and interrupted them. Ivy pulled back from Harry to look up at her, kind of irritated that she was getting in the way. 

“We’re going to dance. Are you guys joining us?” 

Ivy saw everyone getting up and heading towards the crowd. She looked back at Harry and he lifted his brows lightly, silently letting her know it was her decision to make. She gently shook her head before replying to Michelle. 

“Not right now.”

Michelle smirked, giving them both a suspicious look. “Alright, have fun.”

It was a relief to know they were going elsewhere. Ivy didn’t have an issue with everyone but she was glad to be alone with Harry, or so she thought she was alone. She realized quickly when everyone else filed away that someone stayed behind. Cory was still in his seat, his eyes on his phone. Harry noticed, too, and rolled his eyes. Ivy caught his look and gently sighed. 

“It’s okay.”

“He’s fucking obsessed with you.” Harry grumbled out, his eyes narrowing and his lips fell to a straight line. 

It hurt her to see how quick his mood could shift. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed it, but it was still hard to deal with. She didn’t want Harry to be so consumed by anger or frustration. They were supposed to have fun tonight and be together, not worry about someone else. 

“Hey, don’t get mad.” 

“It’s hard not to, Ivy.” He huffed back.

“Don’t look at him. Just look at me.” 

Harry grunted, the control he had on his mood wasn’t very stable. “If he starts staring at you again m’gonna break his face.”

Ivy took hold of his jaw again and gave him a serious look. “No, you aren’t.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before reaching down to pick up the cup of beer she sat on the floor. Harry let her move away, but not because he wanted her to. She brought the cup to her lips and took a long drink. Harry shot his eyes in Cory’s direction, making sure he wasn’t watching. Ivy moved back to where she had been sitting, Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist to keep her next to him. 

“Next weekend, I want you to stay with me at my place.” She said with a smile, the idea had been in her mind all day. 

“Alright. Any plans for us?” 

“Not sure yet. Just wanna be with you.” 

Harry couldn’t stop his gaze from moving back to Cory, and this time he was staring back. He leaned into Ivy, his hand tight on her waist. She held back a giggle when he rubbed his nose against her temple. 

“I really need you closer, baby.” He tickled his fingers against her waist, making her laugh and fall into him. 

“Do you want me to sit?” She asked innocently, her hand tapping his thigh. 

“If you want to, yeah. I’d like that.” 

“I’m sure you would.” 

Harry gripped her waist before she started to climb on his lap. He made sure to grab the outside of her thigh to keep her legs together. She rested the side of her body against his chest, laughing as he started kissing her cheek over and over. Ivy adjusted her skirt and made sure her knees were touching, in case someone tried to catch a peek between her legs. She feared Harry would be uncontrollable if something like that happened. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he watched her. 

“Mhm, I’m okay. Are you? Not squishing you, am I?” Ivy was way more concerned with his comfort than her own. 

“M’fine, babe.” He assured her with a soft peck to her jaw. 

“Not the best way, but it’ll do for now.” She said, glancing at her legs as they laid propped up on the bench. 

“Sit how you want.” 

“I.. I can’t.”

Harry licked his lips. “How do you wanna sit?”

Ivy took a deep breath and leaned into him, her mouth next to his ear. He tightened his grip on her body, not sure what to expect from her. She was just as easy to get heated as he was. 

“Like we did on your couch.” Her whisper made his skin crawl in the best way possible. 

“We can do that.”

“Not here.”

He smiled, pushing his face into her neck. “Said who?”

Ivy tried her best to stand her ground, but Harry’s touch on her body was more than enough to change her mind. His heavy hand moved to the dip in her back, almost touching her butt. The way that his warmth pushed through the fabric covering her body was comforting. She felt completely safe with him, like nothing could ruin this moment. With a shake of her head and a blushing grin, she decided to sit on him the way she actually wanted to. He guided her by her waist as she got up, not letting her get too far away. She threw one leg over him then the next, sitting on his lap like she did on the couch. 

“There we go, that’s better.” He said with a devious smirk as she got comfortable, pulling at her skirt to keep it down. 

He plastered his hands on her hips, securing the fabric of the skirt against her skin, it wasn’t going anywhere as long as he was holding it. Ivy emptied the cup of beer into her mouth, her head falling back as she filled her mouth. Harry nearly busted as he saw her neck stretch, her hair fall over her shoulders, and the small drops of beer that escaped her lips. When she tossed the cup next to them, he leaned up to clean up her mess. 

“Harry!” She shrieked as he swiped his tongue up her chin, clearing the beer residue from her face. 

“Just cleaning you up, babe.” He chuckled out, unable to resist a grin as she hid her face against his. 

Her cheek was hot as it burned into his skin. “You’re so crazy.” 

Ivy put her arm around his neck, her fingers instantly locking around his hair. He held her close, humming in her ear as she took slow, deep breaths. He wondered if she was starting to get tired. Maybe all the alcohol she had consumed while he was singing had caught up to her. She was quiet for a few long minutes, just stayed like that with his arms around her and her hand in his hair. It was perfect, for a while. Harry figured it couldn’t get much better than this. He had the girl he adored sitting on his lap, her body molding into his as he held her close. She was content, nothing was bothering her. It was almost like a dream. He was afraid one wrong move would interrupt it and he’d wake up. Ivy couldn’t really believe it was real either, it was quite hard to comprehend. She never pictured herself as the type of person to do this much display of affection in public, yet here she was doing it. When she was with Harry, it was like the rest of the world froze around them and they were the only two people. 

Harry thought he was imagining it at first, but Ivy started to gently press her lips into the side of his neck, just below his ear. He moved one hand up to the small of her back and gently slid a few of his fingers under her shirt. Her skin was on fire, yet it felt like heaven touching it bare. 

“Being sweet, hm?” He said in a deep voice, his breath rolling over her in a rather tempting way. 

She led her lips a bit lower, leaving behind a trail of lip gloss. Marking her territory felt incredibly powerful. The part she liked the most was the fact Harry was letting her do it. When she was around, and only when it came to her, he let his control go. He let her do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. 

“Can we kiss?” She lifted her head, her eyelashes fluttering as she gave him a sweet look. 

“Don’t have to ask me.” He told her, leaning into her mouth. 

As they started to kiss again, she was sure that nothing could ruin this. Harry’s tongue poked in her mouth to explore, and his lips moved in perfect sync with hers. Her fingers danced on his neck, curling around his nape and dropping to his collarbones every now and then. She wanted to touch every inch of him that she could, but she was keeping herself somewhat tame. With each shove of her tongue into his mouth, her body rocked on his lap. The movement and the friction was getting intense on his crotch, so much so that he considered stopping her for a while. All he could imagine was her getting upset, so he chose to ignore his growing bulge and just let the girl get all the kissing she wanted. 

Harry quite enjoyed it when Ivy went off the deep end with him. Her version of it was different than most people’s, but that didn’t matter. He loved when she was greedy with her hands, scratching and clawing at his skin. There was her newly exploded liking of running her fingers through his long hair and tugging on it that sent chills down his spine and pulses of pleasure straight to his crotch. And her lips, god her lips were his favorite thing. She was so good with them, new exactly how to use them. The more he thought about her and the kiss deepened, the closer he was to a full boner growing in his pants. 

“Mm, Ivy.” He grunted as his lips ripped from hers.

“No, more.” She muttered into his cheek, trying to get his lips back. 

“Give me a few minutes, baby.” He said with a nervous laugh, glancing down at his crotch. 

She followed his eyes without thinking, and as she saw what he was concerned about, her stomach started to churn. Did he want her to move? Was she hurting him? There were so many things flooding her mind all of a sudden, but Harry didn’t say anything about it. He put his hand on her jaw, his thumb rubbing soft circles into her cheek. She easily leaned into his touch, admiring how his big hand was capable of such a delicate touch. 

“Sorry.” She mumbled, her pretty eyes held such an innocent look. 

“Don’t be sorry.” He licked his lips. “Just need a minute to calm down ‘fore I explode.” 

Ivy took the time he needed to observe him. She looked down at his forearm, his tattoos deep into tanned skin. Her mind began to drift as she imagined what it would feel like to have that same skin pressed against her own, no clothing between them. She could very clearly picture herself kissing and sucking marks over his tattoos, tracing the lines with her tongue and biting into his flesh. She knew he’d let her do whatever she wanted, and that was starting to become a thought she wanted to make a reality. She didn’t realize her eyes had closed until his thumb was toying with the corner of her mouth. She softly pushed out a breath, lifting her eyelids to get a look at him. Harry gave her that signature smirk, that up to no good look that made her panties dampen. 

The way he looked at her was like nothing else she had ever experienced. Her hand grabbed his forearm and she slowly brought her touch up his arm. He watched her movements, always liking when she touched him like that. She would hold on to him like she owned him, and that was something that made his heart melt. This girl had his heart in a way no other ever could. 

As her fingers curled around his wrist, she shifted her sultry gaze back to him. She smiled, the blush pretty much permanent on her cheeks by now. Harry was curious about her intentions as she grabbed his thumb with her fingers, moving it across her skin until the tip sat on her bottom lip. The thoughts entering his mind were far from pure. He held his breath, his eyes locked with hers. Without saying a word, or even blinking, Ivy pushed the tip of his thumb past her lips. 

A jolt of excitement shot through his body as she closed her lips around his thumb and gave it a soft suck. If he thought any harder about this, he would bust in his pants. Her tongue swirled around his digit a few slow, taunting times. Harry couldn’t do anything other than stare at her with lust pooling in his eyes. She placed his thumb between her teeth and bit down slightly, making his subtle smirk grow. 

“Naughty little kitten, hm?” The low tone of his voice mixed with the words he used made her tingle in all the right places. `

He swore her eyes lit up with stars at the use of the new name. She seemed to enjoy it more than he expected. He was pushing her limits, trying to see what she would like or what was too much. That was something she liked. 

Harry sat up, his body closer to hers without disturbing her position. He closed the space they shared, his lips next to her ear as he spoke in low, deep whispers. Every word he let out made her toes curl and the wetness between her legs grew. 

“Y’like using that pretty mouth on me, yeah?” 

She bit down harder on his thumb as a response, pulling a heavy chuckle from his throat. Ivy couldn’t stop thinking about his body, about sharing that experience with him. She was sure that if they had been at home doing this, she would’ve caved in to him. She would’ve allowed him to explore her body and show her things she never knew she could experience. But they weren’t at home.. 

“Like poking your tongue out on me.. biting down on me.” 

She nodded lightly, not even sure if he could tell. He was deep in the side of her neck, burying his face in her hair and breathing in her scent. He could die in this very spot and be a happy man. 

“Gonna be so good with your mouth, I just know it.” That time, her stomach dropped and she felt a familiar feeling come over her. 

It happened when she was in the shower earlier, that intense desire to touch herself at the thought of him. Well, now it wasn’t so much the thought of him as it was actually him. She considered disappearing into the bathroom to handle it, pull her skirt up and just rub herself until she came. But the thought of leaving him, of stopping this very moment was enough to keep her still. She could deal with it later. 

“Tell me something, baby.” He put his lips on her ear, speaking as soft as he could. “Tell me what you wanna do with your mouth.” 

Ivy let a nervous breath escape her mouth, the warmth of the air coated his thumb. “Harry.” 

He lightly chuckled back. “Don’t be shy, angel.” 

She shifted his thumb to the inside of her cheek so she could talk. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to gather the courage to say what he wanted her to, to admit what she desired to do with him. When her eyes opened, she was met with the wall behind them. The strobing lights from the ceiling and the colorful flashes reflected off the wall reminded her of where they were. 

“Hm? I know you wanna tell me.” He added, kissing the shell of her ear. 

“Wanna.. wanna kiss you all over.” She started with a nervous laugh, keeping his thumb pressed into her cheek. “And.. and make little bites.” 

“Little bites.” He copied her. “Sink those pretty teeth in me, baby.” 

“Harry, I..” 

She could feel his smirk against her skin. “What is it, baby?” 

Ivy had a pounding thought in her mind. She wanted to tell him how she felt, she wanted him to know how wet she had become between her legs and how hard her nipples were behind her bra. She wanted to tell him she would invite him in to explore her body if he asked her. Was she having that feeling Emma tried to describe? It couldn’t possibly be that, it was too soon.. She pushed the thoughts away and decided to just give his thumb another bite, making him smile. 

“Torturing you, aren’t I?” He said as he finally leaned himself up, his eyes meeting hers to find they were wide and as sparkly as ever. 

“A bit.” She nodded, an anxious laugh following her words. 

“I’ll give you a break.. before you explode.” 

She pulled his thumb out of her mouth. “M’close to it, I think.” 

“You don’t have to stop doing that.” He said, tapping his damp thumb against her chin. 

“For right now.. maybe I can do it again later, if you want me to.” 

He shook his head in disbelief at how adorable and innocent she was, despite what she was just doing and saying to him. “You know I want you to.” 

Ivy grabbed his wrist and placed his hand back on her waist. She loved how it felt to have him hold her there, so she wanted it back. He immediately tightened his grip and gave her a subtle smirk. He had to go easy on her before she really did lose her control and mess up her panties. He wasn’t aware of how intense it was for her, but he could see she wasn’t alright. 

They stayed quiet for a little bit, just looking at each other with hungry eyes. Harry was refraining himself from doing too much while Ivy was trying to encourage herself to do more. Maybe if she chewed on his thumb when they got home he’d say more filthy things to her. She kind of liked the dirty statements and teasing words he said. It turned her on more than she ever thought it could. Perhaps that’s why people have sex so easily - they get turned on and fall deep into the lust. It was possible, and she was starting to think she could achieve that special feeling Emma talked about. 

Harry watched her with a soft smile on his lips as she occupied herself with messing with his necklace. She had pulled the pendant out of his shirt and started rubbing her finger over it. She was engrossed in the moment, letting the way it glimmered in the lights distract her from everything else. It was peaceful, until something caught Harry’s attention. He could feel a stare coming towards him, and he just knew who it was coming from. Ivy wasn't paying him any attention, so he looked past her shoulder and snarled as he saw Cory’s eyes peering their way. It was no secret that he was focused on Ivy. It made Harry’s chest turn to stone, anger began to boil in his gut. He sat up, securing his grip on Ivy so she wouldn’t fall backwards. She instinctively grabbed his shoulder to catch herself, even though he had her stable. 

“Get your fucking eyes off her.” Harry raised his voice so it would be clearly heard over the distance they shared. 

Ivy snapped her head around, huffing as she saw Cory give Harry an annoyed look back. She was about to interrupt when Cory decided to take a stab back at him. 

“Get a fucking room.” He gave him a disgusted expression that just irritated Harry even more. “Practically screwing her.” 

“Don’t fucking worry about what I do with my girl. Fuck off.” He got louder, and of course it made her anxiety shoot through the roof. 

Ivy grabbed his face gently, keeping her touch soft to remind him that she was right here. “Harry, shh.” 

He was stronger than her, and he easily moved his head in her weak grip. “If I catch you staring at her again, I’ll beat your fucking face in.” 

“No, you won’t, stop.” Ivy let out a soft whine as she tried to tame him. 

It was a harder task than anything else. Harry was angry now, and he was beyond controllable. He had this raging look in his eyes that scared her. Not long ago, she would’ve backed away in fear of him hurting her. But now, as she sat on his lap with his hands stuck to her body, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. 

To their surprise, Cory got up and left the table. Harry didn’t give a damn about his feelings. He shouldn’t have been staring at Ivy that way, like he was jealous or like he wanted her to himself. Over Harry’s dead body would that ever happen. Ivy pressed a soft kiss to his lips, hoping that would help but he was still pouting as the anger lingered on his face. 

“You don’t have to get so upset, Harry. M’not worried about him.” She told him, kissing him again despite not getting anything in return. That really wasn’t her point anyway, she just wanted to give him some affection to calm him down. “He does it because he knows it bothers you.” 

“It bothers me a fucking lot.” 

She bit down on her cheek for a moment as she looked at him. His eyes were back on hers, and the longer she stared at him, the softer his gaze became. He wanted to apologize to her for being so reactive, but he couldn’t find the words. It was embarrassing for him to see how quick he could get angry. He has always been very aware of it, but now that Ivy was more involved in his life, it made him feel worse. They had been having such a nice, private time together. He let someone barge in and ruin it, even if Cory never actually got in the way. 

“What can I do to help? Kisses?” She asked seriously, furrowing her brows as her hand pressed into his chest. He was breathing very hard, like he was going to blow up. “Wanna make you feel better.” 

At first, he was just going to accept the offer of kissing, but as he sat there and looked at her gorgeous face, he couldn't stop thinking about her mouth. Having her bite on his thumb made him completely forget about everything else. It was like that was her magic cure for him. Perhaps it could be that.. He hesitated at first, but as she batted her lashes and rolled her lips out to silently beg him for a reply, he became putty in her hands. 

“Take my thumb.” He pressed his digit against her lip, smirking as she parted her mouth for him. He slipped it in and sucked in a breath as she closed her lips around him. “There you go, kitten.” 

The rest of the night was enjoyable for them. They weren’t alone very long after Cory made an exit. Everyone returned to take a break and have some drinks. Ivy had another beer, but Harry declined the alcohol. He had to be sober to drive her home. He opted to just watch her chug the beer in competition with Emma. It was amusing, just like all the other times. 

Ivy did end up slipping away to go dance with Emma and Michelle, while Harry stayed behind to give her some space. He wasn’t irritated at all, he actually encouraged her to go have some fun. Niall had asked him about Cory, and he explained what happened. Niall was surprised that it didn’t get any worse than it did, but he knew Ivy had a lot to do with that. When she got done dancing, they sat around the table for a while longer before finally calling it a night. Ivy ended up having two more drinks while she was dancing, so she was stumbling around as Harry took her to the car. He held onto her waist, trying to keep her upright. She was giggling, the feeling of his fingers was tickling her. Usually she wasn’t so sensitive there, but right now she was being silly. 

It took a bit of coercing to get her in the car. She didn’t want to do anything other than wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him in the parking lot, but he promised her they could save that for when they got home. She was whiny at first, claiming that he was being mean to her, but he knew she didn’t mean it. She was just being difficult. Eventually, he got her in the car and buckled her in.

When they got back to his place, he had to help her inside. She was a giggling mess, trying to grab him and kiss him before he could get her to the door. He knew she’d crash out as soon as she landed on the bed. He stayed behind her as she went up the stairs, in case she tripped or lost her balance and went tumbling backwards. He pushed his hand on her back, encouraging her to go up. As they got to the top, she practically ran into his bedroom, rambling about wanting to take her shoes off and lay down. 

Harry followed her, laughing as he watched her plop down on the end of his bed and start messing with her shoes. She was struggling to get the ankle straps undone. After a short time of trying, she became frustrated. Ivy let out a groan and looked Harry’s way. 

“Please, help me.” She said softly, her lips in a pout. 

He shut the door behind him before walking over to her. She was waiting patiently for him. Harry got on his knees in front of her, lifting one foot at a time to unbuckle the straps. Ivy chewed on her bottom lip as she watched him. She was rather ticklish on her feet, so as he pulled the shoe off, his skin brushed hers and she giggled. He glanced up at her, once again amused by her behavior. She was cute, even when she was drunk. 

“Thank you.” She said sweetly as he took off the other one. 

He sat them up side by side, coming to his feet as she hopped up. Ivy didn’t even realize he had carried her bag up when she started digging through it. He figured she wanted to change her clothes, so he told her he’d step out and go to the bathroom before he joined her in the bed. 

Harry didn’t take too long in the bathroom. He got rid of his shirt in there, but kept his pants on until he got back to his room. He found Ivy in the bed, her eyes already closed as she yawned. She was beneath his covers, waiting for him to get next to her. She wasn’t paying him any mind, so he quickly got rid of his pants and chose a pair of gym shorts. 

Ivy hummed in satisfaction as he finally laid next to her, his warm body lighting a fire she was ready to get cozy with. He grabbed her, pulling her into him like he knew she liked. 

“Goodnight.” He muttered out as he pressed a kiss to her lips. 

She returned it, but ultimately wanted more. She grunted, slipping her tongue between his lips. He let her do what she wanted for a few long moments, then pulled back to tell her to go to sleep. She furrowed her brows and gave him a funny look. 

“Mm, kiss me more.” 

He let a light smile coat his lips. “You’re sleepy, angel.”

“Want kisses, please.” She begged in the sweetest tone she’d ever used on him. He melted quickly for her. 

“Okay, sweet girl.” He leaned forward to give her another, but she spoke before he could start it. 

“Love when you say cute names.”

“Yeah? C’mere, baby.” He reached up to grab her jaw, leading her into a kiss he knew would make her even more tired. 

As he predicted, she kissed him for about two minutes before finally breaking away and closing her lips. She curled up next to him, her hands on his body and her face nuzzled in his neck. Although he didn’t drink tonight, he was exhausted. From singing on stage to wrangling her - it was a long night. He wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Maybe he was on the right track with his sneaky attempts at opening her up, or maybe it was just all the drinks she had. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Slowly, day by day, she was getting more comfortable with him. Before he knew it, he’d probably have to peel her off himself every time they’re together. He could handle it though. Ivy fell asleep almost instantly, and Harry wasn’t far behind her. 

[a/n: omg I enjoyed writing this one so much! the more comfortable she gets the better this will be :) hope u like! also realized that I gave myself way too much work with this insane word count.. I could have made this 2 parts but I didn’t want to lol. Reblog, comment, like all that good stuff!! see u soon .. xx]

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[edensrose]

·˚꒰ 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒖𝒉 ? ꒱ ₊˚ˑ

ᡴꪫ ﹙𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚! 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙚𝙭 𝙜𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧.﹚─── ⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ he thought you'd love him forever. even in death. so why are you with satoru now? yk , his best friend? how could you. ( ˖ ࣪❀˳ ) : morbid possessiveness + yandere suguru, fucking creepy, violence → reader .

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 )﹕this has been on my mind for sooo long I'm sorry not sorry with how fucking creepy I made sugu boo

"Do you really have to go?"

"Sorry pooks. Promise I'll be back tomorrow."

". . . Actually. Stay outside."

His annoying laughter fills your burning ears. Cold lips catch your cheek in a heavy smooch while strong arms snatch your waist and yank you closer. Satoru hoists your body so ready to turn from him and drags you into his endless embrace.

"Aww come on, sweetheart. Weren't you just crying over me?" All you can do is roll your eyes as he buries his face into your shoulder. Hunched over you from behind with large palms encased on your waist.

You almost forgot the wane of your heart. Off he'll go to another mission. Leaving you lonely. But as always, he tries to make you smile. He knew you well enough to sense the dread in your voice. And if not? Then the plea in your eyes absolutely broke his heart.

"I was not crying."

"Yeah you werreee, oh, my poor baby."

He pinches on your cheek. Grins into your shoulder as you cast him a glare. "Whatever will they do without their big, strong boyfriend to keep them warm!?"

"Satoru."

You spin in his arms. Your palms find his face and he relents immediately. Like a puppy melting into a warm comforter. White lashes hang low and he stares at you through soft, cerulean hues.

What more can he do but turn his head and lay a kiss on your palm? Lower his voice to a tender croon. "I know. I know." His hands cup your face in turn. His thumb strokes assurances over your cheekbone. "But I'll be fine. Back before you know it too."

His kiss to your forehead does little to comfort you this time. Why? You're not too sure. Usually his gentle hold quells your clenched heart immediately. Eases any storm running rampant in your mind. Alas. This time, all you are able is to hug him for longer. Mumble a goodbye into his lips as he ventures out your apartment's door.

Anxiety, right? You know her well. She hasn't quite left since you saw his dead eyes.

Not what you should be thinking about right now. Alone at home. In the middle of the night.

The house is always so silent without Satoru. It reminds you of the period where loneliness is all you knew. Before he came back into your life. Before you both found comfort in one another to deal with your shared loss.

Of course you felt guilty. It ate at your soul and clawed at your heart. The hollow feeling only eased whenever your boyfriend lingered. Perhaps that's why you were extra clingy tonight.

With a sigh, you opt for dinner. The stove ignites. Herbs and spices flood your senses. Noise and warmth buzzes away your crawling skin. Food always served as the second best distraction whenever that white-haired cat wasn't around to cling to you.

A broth brews atop the stove while you finely chop an arrangement of vegetables. Miso ramen felt right tonight. Surely the warmth of a hearty soup coupled with chewy noodles would comfort you through this dreary shadow.

You can't help but wonder; why tonight of all days? You'd been doing so well lately. Ever since you picked up journaling, as recommended by Shoko, it's been a bit easier to deal with these thoughts. It's been years since that fateful day. Why can't you just get over it?

Maybe you're being too hard on yourself. How could you ever get over him? Suguru was the star and moon in your hands, and now, not even a shimmer is left in your palms. Long since has the bitterness of his defection and atrocities tainted your heart. The wound of his loss is still fresh, regardless of whether or not you admit it.

And now you're kicking around with his best friend? No wonder you feel as if he's haunting you. Who wouldn't? You swore to marry him, and now here you are. In another man's oversized shirt. Cooking with ingredients he got from the store for you. Anxious because he left you for the night. Knock -

What was that?

Your gaze shoots to the corner instinctively. The window stands in your vision. A tree branch the culprit. You exhale and place a hand on the counter, shut your eyes and groan at yourself.

There you go again.

Another sigh. You narrow your gaze onto the half-sliced carrots. As if it's their fault you cannot control your own mind. Was it so hard to simply switch off? The man's dead for crying out loud! Long since has the string between souls been severed.

So why do you feel a tug to your inner-being? Why - cree!

What's that?

You spin to the side. Eyes blown. Knife tight. The cupboard — it hangs half-open.

You suck a breath. Click your tongue. You'd told Satoru to take care of that. . . still, it's the last thing on your running mind. What's going on with you tonight? Just relax. Aren't you a sorcerer? Yet here you are, scared of a few sounds because you're alone at night.

You opt for the constant chop of carrots to fill your ears. Intentionally, you knock on the cutting board harder. Anything to distract yourself, even if it is with sound. Your mind buzzes into a new frequency. Emptying its endless guilty rampage as you hone all your senses into the mission at hand. Dinner.

Carrots, mushrooms, bok choy, all fall victim to your blade's intensity. A satisfying constant to keep your mind on loop. Away from the lapping anxiety so eager to swallow you whole.

Truth be told, your hearing should have numbed by now. To the rhythmic tones of chops and slices. But numbness stands fruitless to a call of the soul. It shakes your body back to consciousness. For the string that had been severed four years ago abruptly re-tethered. Strung from your innermost self. Strained. Strung.

Bleeding.

Behind you?

Pale hands. On the counter. Either side of you. Chills against your spine. Ice to your back. Everything stiffens. The clock's hands freeze. A presence? Satoru? No -

"So jumpy," a deep voice drawls to your ear. "Why's that? Missing someone?"

A curse.

His voice.

Muscles tense. Breath hitched. Colours bleed into each other — sounds become but a whisper. Nothingness. The knife in your hand lays idle and your wide eyes focus on the other two. On the right that slowly slips over yours. A cold thumb to your wrist. Soothing, like he always would.

"I hear your name is sweetheart now. My, what a shame. Here I thought you preferred darling."

You snap around. Blade equipped. Ready for whatever anomaly you are to face. The nerve of a curse to take on his voice. Like some sick, cruel j —

The knife clambers. All the strength fades from your body the second your eyes meet violet. Pale skin. Charming smile. No curse could ever replicate that. No vengeful being could come close to him.

Seeing things. You're seeing things. Hearing things. Then why does your heart wail? Why does your soul run red? "S . . ." His hand cups your face. Thumb to your cheekbone.

"Go on, darling. Say it for me."

There's no denying it.

Suguru Geto stands before you.

Memories flash. Tears well faster than your pummelling heart. You nearly throw yourself back into the counter. Its edge traps you. Much like his towered body. He leans in. Cursed energy makes you nauseous. This is no sorcerer. This isn't your Suguru.

But that's his smile. The amused lift of his brow as he cages you. The man leans further and cocks his head to the side. "Now what's all this? What an act. You were fine just a moment ago."

Rage. Hot, blistering. Fire floods those beautiful violets. His gorgeous face morphs. Eyes snap open. Whites bulging. Pearly like the fanged grin that splits his mouth. He shoves forward. Laughs.

"You were fine with him. You were perfectly -" he rasps. Ragged. Inhumane. "Perfectly. Fucking. Fine with Satoru."

This isn't your Suguru

"N-No - no -" you rasp. Shove your hands forwards. He shoves them down. You cry out. Squirm back and spill tears at the tears to your wrists. Claws?

"You're dead! You're dead! Suguru - you're not - you're dead!"

As if your words were incantations. As if they could bury whatever this was back in the grave.

Thump!

Your back hits the counter. Air - you can't - can't breathe —

Two hands clamp your throat. His weight's on you. Stare wide. Wild. Claws dig in. Maw hung in a horrific grin. His breath ragged. Your body cramps beneath his weight. You try to scream. Another hand slams to your mouth.

Eyes screaming malice. Hate. Deep and dark. Like your blood trickling. Your soul burning. His voice bleeds out. Pitched. Shaky. Unhinged.

"Then if I'm dead. Don't scream."

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕◞ ₊˚﹕@a-contemplation-upon-flowers

[cheezb6llz]

yandere shadow x reader where the reader somehow escapes

YANDERE SHADOW X CAPTIVE READER THAT ESCAPES!!!

LMAO I WAS WONDERING WHY I ONLY GOT 3 NOTES AFTER SO MANY HOURS BUT I FORGOT TO PUT ANY TAGS

You were running. Just a few minutes ago you were still chained up, but Shadow had left the cuffs a little to loose. So you had hopped out the window and hoped for the best.

It felt so amazing, so free to finally feel the fresh air and wind brush up against your skin as you ran, weaving through trees in the forest. You weren’t sure where you were, the middle of nowhere was the most you could think of.

It wasn’t long before somebody tightly grabbed your arm, bringing you to a sudden halt. A familiar, terrifying voice rose from behind you.

“Took you long enough to try.”

He didn’t even give you time to think before he teleported back to the house. Back where he wants you. Trapped.

The room felt cold, you weren’t sure if it was the temperature or the fact that Shadow was standing by the locked door, his eyes burning into you.

You glare at him. “..What? No speech about how stupid it was to run!?” You spat out trying to keep yourself steady.

Shadow was quiet for a moment, before he started walking towards you.

Your instincts begged you to back away, but you didn’t truly need to because the next second, Shadow swiftly pushed you against the wall, pinning you to it, pressing his hands against the wall on either side of you.

“You’re afraid. Good.”

You look down, refusing to make eye contact. “Just get it over with. Whatever punishment you’re planning-“

He grabs your chin, cutting you off and forcing you to look at him.

“You think I’m going to hurt you? How little do you think of me?”

You don’t answer, but your silence is enough.

He leans in, close to your ear and whispers.

“You’re helpless without me.”

His hands moved from the sides of your face down to your forearms, gripping you tightly.

He then pressed a firm kiss to your temple, you froze.

“Don’t worry,” He whispered against your skin. “I’ll be gentle with you.. As long as you behave.”

And just like that, you knew you weren’t going to get another chance to escape again.

Because now?

He’s not letting you out of his sight again.

—-

eeeeeeeee