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distantdarlings · 1 year ago

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HESITATING // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.9K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After a trip to Hogsmeade, you realize that Theo seems to get an awful lot of attention from girls. To avoid getting hurt, you start to distance yourself from him to rid yourself of your crush. But Theo is not having it. (Smut)

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! No protection - piv, praise kink, slight body worship, biting (one time), fem reader, language, one time skip, dom!Theo (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

more than friends - Isabel LaRosa

---

Your eyes found the clock on your bedside table. You were supposed to meet Theo in the Great Hall in ten minutes, yet you stood completely still in your dorm, switching back and forth between two outfits. It was a Saturday, and you didn’t have the usual crutch of your school uniform, hence the inability to decide.

As the year progressed, the temperature dropped outside as well as within the castle. When chills were scattered across your arms in class, your teeth were almost clacking together. At the thought, a small shiver went through you.

You decided on a heavier sweater and jeans, noting that if you were cold in the warmth of your dorm, you’d likely be cold in the stone Great Hall.

You slipped the outfit on, selecting a thick pair of socks and a ratty pair of shoes you’d had since fourth year. It wasn’t the most stunning style, but it was efficient and comfortable. Five minutes to go.

You slipped your wand into your back pocket and headed toward the hallway, slipping the dorm door closed behind you. Theo was likely already there with his group of friends, ones you liked to call friends, as well. The sons of big names around Hogwarts and the wizarding world, in general, though they were just boys to you.

As you arrived at the grand doors of the Great Hall, the boys in question caught your eye and shot excited waves at you. While some of them had a bit more pride than others, they always seemed happy to see you. A smile broke across your face as you walked over to the Slytherin table, claiming the space between Theo and Mattheo.

“Hello there, darling,” Theo purred in your ear when the group went back to their conversation. A twinge of heat flared in your chest. You hid a smile.

“Miss me?” You asked, voice low. He smiled.

“Of course I did.” He threw a playful arm over your shoulder. Though it seemed to be a friendly gesture, it felt like a claim to you. A claim by him placed onto you, alerting all who you belonged to. It made you embarrassingly happy.

“Any plans today, boys?” You asked. The group turned to you.

“Actually, we were thinking of heading down to Hogsmeade for the day,” Mattheo said. “We were going to ask if you wanted to go with us?”

“I’d love to, as long as I’m not forcing myself on the group,” you said, only half-joking.

“Of course not,” said Enzo, a sweet smile on his face. “We love hanging out with you.”

“Yeah?” You teased. Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“You know we like you,” he joked, running a mean hand over your head, tousling your hair. You exclaimed and pushed his hand away, laughing along with the dark boy.

“We definitely do,” Theo laughed, pulling you tighter against him for a moment.

“Well, alright,” You laughed. “Heading there now?”

“Yes!” Enzo clapped his hands together and stood, already headed toward the door. The rest of you laughed and made to follow him.

“What about jackets? It’s cold out there!” You exclaimed, rubbing your hands over your arms.

“Ah, I’ve prepared for that,” Theo said, picking up two jackets that had been placed beside where he’d once sat. You hadn’t noticed them originally.

He selected the smaller brown one and slipped it over your shoulder while he pushed his arms through the black one.

“Theo!” You exclaimed, running your hands over the nice corduroy material. “Where on earth did you get this? Whose is this?”

“Yours, of course,” he laughed as the four of you exited the castle and headed down the cobblestone path to Hogsmeade.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Call it an early Christmas gift,” he said, smiling smugly.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Of course I am,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I saw it in one of the shops last weekend and thought of you.”

If you weren’t the wiser, you’d have thought your heart had melted and poured down through your rib cage. A blush filled your cheeks and your stomach at the thought of Theo thinking of you and then buying something.

“Thank you, Theo,” you sighed. He laughed and shrugged it off as if he hadn’t just made your whole week, if not your whole decade.

The whole way down to Hogsmeade, your heart refused to let go of your brain. The pink filter that had been placed before your eyes glowed brightly. This little crush of yours seemed to have elevated a bit, but you’d never admit that, of course.

The group stopped before the Three Broomsticks, eager to slip into the cozy building’s warmth and order several rounds of Butterbeer.

The four of you pushed through the door and selected a round booth near one of the back windows. Enzo and Mattheo headed to the front counter to order for the group.

“Have you got any plans for the rest of the day?” Theo asked, naturally sliding his arm around the back of the booth behind you.

“Well, if you’ll have me, I’d love to stick with the three of you,” you suggested.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he smiled, playfully tugging on a piece of your hair. He was hoping you’d say that?

“Here we are!” Enzo cheered, placing two pints of Butterbeer on the table before the two of you. Mattheo was close behind him, carrying two for the both of them. They slid into the booth beside Theo, with you and Mattheo on the ends and Theo and Enzo between you. It felt comfortable.

Between each of your smiles, all with different personalities, you’d found a very safe space to stay. Every moment with these people made up a memory you knew you’d remember until you could no longer. Nothing could have ruined this evening.

“Oh, my God!” A loud voice said, drawing the syllables out. The four of you turned to look at the unfamiliar face standing before your table. “Teddy? Is that you?”

“Teddy?” You asked, wrinkling your nose at the nickname.

“Holy shit. Laverna!” Theo laughed. “How long has it been?”

“A while! I’ve just been visiting recently and thought I’d stop by Hogsmeade after not having seen it for so long.”

The girl standing before your table was incredibly gorgeous, with flowing platinum hair that reached the bottom of her spine and shocking blue eyes. Her skin appeared flawless and luminescent beneath the comforting lights within the restaurant. A fire of jealousy broiled in your chest.

“Guys, this is Laverna,” Theo introduced her. “We were pretty close before her family moved to France, and she transferred to Beauxbatons.”

“That’s me!” she giggled. It sounded like she even had a hint of a French accent. You struggled not to roll your eyes.

“I was just going to get a drink. Do you want to catch up a bit?” she asked.

Theo ushered Mattheo and Enzo out of the booth. A bit confused, they got to their feet and allowed the boy next to them to slide out and give a hug to the beautiful woman. You sipped your Butterbeer.

The other two boys sat back down and glanced up at you in scattered patterns. You ignored their eyes. You were pretty sure they knew about your little crush. Scratch that. They definitely knew.

Over your shoulder, you could hear the two of them laughing and carrying on. You attempted to ignore the burning in your cheeks. Mattheo and Enzo nursed their drinks, fidgeting randomly.

A few moments of randomized chatting passed before Theo finally came back, a poignant smile still painted over his lips. You looked away from him.

“Sorry about that,” he laughed, scooting in next to Mattheo. You tried not to think about the fact that he didn’t sit next to you. You were being dramatic.

“Alright, where to next?” He asked. The four of you discussed what to do with the rest of your day with random store names circling about. The final agreement was to head over to Honeydukes to enjoy some of their Christmas sales, and so Enzo could stock the small jar that sat beneath his bed. He tended to snack throughout the night as he was tending to assignments, refusing sleep.

You gathered together and made your way through the small town, window-shopping here and there. Every time you pouted over Theo’s seemingly obvious interest in the gorgeous girl, you remembered the jacket currently around you. Theo cared about you. Was it the way you wanted him to? You weren’t sure.

Once inside the colorful store, the four of you split and wandered your separate ways, each looking for different sweets. You always headed right toward the chocolate frogs, eager to extend your vast collection of cards. Perhaps it was a bit childish, but who cared? It was a fun hobby.

You stopped before the rack piled high with the blue boxes and stared. You tried to guess which one would have a card you’d never gotten before, conjuring up every ounce of intuition you had.

With another second of thought, you chose the one sitting on the shelf directly in front of your face. You were excited to open it with Theo; he always loved to see you add to your collection.

You turned the box over in your hands, examining the packaging. Out of the corner of your eye, a flash of red caught your attention. You turn to the left and notice Theo laughing aloud, talking with that same girl, Laverna, and another girl. A dark-haired goddess with blushed cheeks and a perfect figure. Fuck’s sake.

The urge to crush the chocolate box in your hand flashed through your mind. You rolled your eyes and headed further into the store, trying to put distance between the two of you.

Mattheo was standing against a wall, browsing a rack of magazines, occasionally picking one to flip through. You stopped before him, leaning up against the same wall.

“Pouting, are you?” He asks, not looking up from the magazine in his hands. You scoff.

“No, I’m not…I’m just…,” you sigh and close your eyes.

“Just in love?” He asked, glancing up at you with a smirk.

“Fuck off,” you groaned. Was it that obvious? Maybe it was. You didn’t know. An exhausted sigh left your lips.

Uproarious laughter sounded from the corner. You recognized one of the laughs as Theo’s. The others belonged to women. That was it.

“Okay, I’m heading back to the castle,” you said, throwing your hands up. “Tell Theo I wasn’t feeling well or something.”

“What? Are you sure?” Mattheo asked, finally dropping the magazine. “We still want you here with us.”

“It’s okay, I’m just tired,” you said. “I think I’ll just head back for a nap until dinner.” And with that, you paid for your candy and headed back to the castle.

xxx

Over the next week, you made an unintentional decision to skip meals with the group. You weren’t trying to avoid them—or maybe you were—but you found yourself wanting to be alone more and more the past few days.

The thought of having to see Theo after Saturday, when he had the attention of half the girls in Hogsmeade, made you want to vomit. Perhaps it was jealousy pushing you away, but it was your anxiety keeping you there. Every time you thought of heading back to eat with the group, you reminded yourself that Theo hadn’t tried to reach out since you’d stopped seeing them. If he wanted to, he would, right?

With your decision to keep away from the boys for a while, you’d taken to eating in your dorm over your lunch break. Nobody else was ever in there, and it was kind of comfortable, to be honest. You would nibble on your meal and read, or draw, or whatever came to mind, and it was nice and quiet.

You set your book on your bed and gathered the little meal you’d prepared for yourself. Pulling the covers back, you settled in and grabbed your novel. This was absolutely lovely after a busy morning.

Just as you’d begun to settle yourself into the routine you’d started the previous week, two shouts of your name shot through the air. Before the disappointment and onset of anxiety came shock. Was that Theo?

Rapid steps grew closer and closer until the dormitory door echoed a gentle knock as if the person behind it had slowed down just as they’d arrived.

“Um…who is it?” You asked awkwardly.

“Baby, it’s Theo,” a breathless voice came from behind the door. “Please open the door. Please. I need to talk to you.”

Baby? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? The shocked mantra rushed through your head as you shakily ripped your comforter away, ignoring your food and book.

You slowly pulled the door open, seeing a nervous Theo. His eyes were shot with blushed red, and his lips were swollen. Had he been crying?

“Theo, what—?”

“Please, can I come in?” he asked. His breath exited his body in short, rough pants. You nodded wide-eyed and moved out of the way. He pushed into the room, walking to the center of the room. His hands pushed through his hair repeatedly.

You pushed the door closed and pushed the lock. When you turned, he did the same, eyes on yours. His eyebrows were furrowed together, desperation painted on his face. His lips were parted, his eyes wanting.

“What is it—?”

“You have to tell me what I’ve done,” he begged. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! Where have you been? You’ve been gone for days; the boys say you’re mad at me, that you might not come back—what the fuck are they talking about?” he demands, his eyes wide.

Your lips parted stupidly. No words came, no matter how hard you searched for them. The only thought that could process within your brain was how you were gonna kill Enzo and Mattheo for saying such stupid things to him. If anything, they were likely trying to get him to come and talk to you—which, it seems, has worked.

“Theo,” you cave, “it’s not that I wasn’t returning or mad at you…I was…” You could barely get the words out. He watched you with intent and pressure. It felt as though you were about to suffocate.

“What? Please tell me. What’s wrong?” He begged, his voice cracking. He moved toward you, his hands raising to touch you, then hesitating and dropping. A line of shimmering tears pool within his eyes, and the pure shock of seeing Theo about to cry had your lips parting again.

“I was…,” you groan, “…jealous.” You practically whispered the last part.

“Wait, what?” He gasped, his eyes widening even further.

“Theo, please don’t make me repeat it,” you sighed, pressing your hands to your face. “I’m embarrassed as is, I was jealous of those girls from last Saturday. I felt like every time I saw you, you were making another girl laugh, and they were all fucking perfect, of course, and I-I like you so much, Theo—”

His hands pressed to either side of your face, his fingers tight and warm. His eyes were widened, his breaths heavy.

“No more,” he breathed, “please, tell me to stop, and I will, but I have to…”

His lips pressed roughly to yours, his breath more like pants. He kissed you like you were air, his lips desperate and biting. The sound he pressed against your mouth was like one of relief. You gasped against him, finally realizing where you truly were and what was happening. Your fingers tightened in his hair, begging him closer to you.

“I n-need you,” he shivered against your lips, breath shuddering. You nodded fervently, barely having time to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands placed themselves around your thighs. He yanked you into the air and placed himself on your bed, settling you over his lap. The way he’d forced you to straddle him pressed his firming core against yours, sending a shock of excitement through your body.

His fingers began to quickly work the buttons of your shirt apart. When the fabric was finally split down the middle, he pressed his mouth to the top of your breasts, mouthing hot kisses against the soft flesh there. You sighed softly, letting your head fall back to allow him all the necessary room.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbles against you. Your fingers brush through his curled hair, gently scraping against his scalp every so often. The feeling of his lips against you made your heart race to the point of beating against his tongue.

Much to your dismay, he pulled away and shoved you back. You fell against the foot of the bed, completely helpless as he climbed over you. The domineering air he carried with him spread over your body, rendering it pliant beneath his searing touch.

His fingers gently cradled your hips as he worked his mouth over your stomach, dipping his tongue across every curve and dip, savoring the taste of sweat that slid down your skin. As his lips heated your skin, the shaking breaths he blew through his nose cooled it down and had you reeling. The ceiling above you was all but spinning.

He followed the curve of your body all the way up to your mouth, allowing his tongue to learn every inch of your abdomen. When his lips found yours again, the both of you were panting. The only thing standing between the two of you was your uniforms.

With a burst of confidence thanks to his session of worship, you gently cradled him in your hands, applying slight pressure against his most sensitive area. At the touch, he choked against you, sucking in a rough breath.

“Please,” he moaned. “Let me fuck you. I'll do anything.” He whispered your name. Over and over and over. Begging and begging.

“Anything?” You smirked, watching as his eyes seemed to well up with the same liquid. He nodded quickly.

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” you whispered. And if it wasn’t like giving someone a million bucks.

“Thank you,” he whispered, a wave of relief washing across his face. The obvious desire written across his face and actions had you feeling wanted and gorgeous. The confidence built by the second.

His fingers quickly found the hem of your skirt and pushed it up over your thighs. At the sight of the thin bottoms you had on, a slow moan pushed itself between his lips. “Fuck,” he whispered.

His thumb came down to slowly swipe down the center of your core through your bottoms. You jolted at the soft action, not prepared for it. A smile spread over his face.

He gently pushed the fabric to the side, reveling in the feeling of the white lace against his fingertips. Once he’d revealed you, an even louder moan escaped from him. Only a moment passed before he pressed two fingers to his lips, coating them with a thick layer of saliva. He pulled them from his lips and began to lather you in himself.

Your lips parted in a breathy whine at the feeling. His fingers were gentle but direct, only brushing the most sensitive spots before slowly filling you up to the hilt of his fingers.

“Fuck, you just opened right up for me,” he groaned. His words sent shocks of lightning through your stomach. His skilled fingers stretched you out perfectly, preparing you for what was to come. The want in his eyes was growing darker and darker, imagining the next few minutes. It was all too much; you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, Theo, just fuck me,” you whined, “no more.”

“Yeah, baby? I’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry about that,” he whispered. “‘ve been dreaming about this cunt for months.” He makes quick work of his trousers, roughly ripping the clinking belt from its loops. He separates the button and pushes them down, revealing the dark briefs that framed every muscular curve.

He separated your legs and placed himself neatly between them. His hands reached down to agonizingly trace himself up and down your core. You moaned at the feeling, bucking your hips against his warmth. You attempted to salvage any of his warmth, begging for the feeling of him within you.

When he finally pushed himself into you, there was no resistance. The sounds that left your mouth chorused each other, echoing across the dorm room. He gave only a few seconds for you to adjust before building his pace rapidly. The pure length of him hit everything within you with ease. This time, there were tears welling up in your eyes as he abused every inch of you.

Sweet nothings left his mouth as he pushed roughly into you. His strong hips showed no weakness, and the hands that gripped you branded bruises against your flesh. Every second of this moment would visit you for years to come, promising you’d never find someone like Theo. He was the body made to fit perfectly against yours, with the intent to love and please and hold. And, fuck, if he wasn’t doing exactly that.

As he worked you closer and closer to the end, he reached down and pulled you quickly against his chest. Out of habit, your arms wrapped around his neck. Despite the change in position, he never let up on his speed or brutality. The only thing you could feel was his strong hands bouncing you up and down him. His teeth pressed into your neck, piercing the soft flesh there. And that was what did it for you.

You finished around him hard and heavy, your limbs becoming pathetically weak. As you came down from your high, you could barely keep your hold around him. His arms tightened around you, holding you up as he fucked himself into you, harder and harder, until he was coming, too. The feeling of his release pouring within you and every thrust he performed to push it back within you pulled you out for the final moment.

Stars danced around your head as he finally set you back down against the bed, his touch so gentle in comparison to what he had done prior. The contrast of his touch against you as he pushed the wet hair clinging to your forehead was blinding. You sighed contently as he lay next to you, eyes watching you closely.

“I’m sorry I was so emotional,” he whispered. “I thought I was going to lose you forever…before I’d even had the chance to tell you what kind of feelings I was harboring.”

“What kind of feelings?” you whispered back, turning over to face him.

“That I’m completely in love with you and have been for a long time.” Your heart swelled at the confession. Quiet giggles spilled from your mouths at the realization of what he was saying.

“I’m in love with you too, Theo,” you laughed. “That’s why I was so jealous.”

“Because I’m so sexy?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and placed a playful smack on his arm.

The moments that followed were filled with quiet laughs and sweet kisses. And before either of you had noticed, you’d both drifted off against each other. Afternoon classes were a lost cause, as was the hope of meeting back up with Mattheo and Enzo for dinner, but neither of you minded.

*Tag List: @lilymurphy03 (if you want to be added to the tag list for any future works, please send me a dm or message in my inbox, thanks!)*

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bwabys-scenarios · 9 months ago

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CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO PERV ILLUMI i do not think there is enough perv illumi content on this app

He’s a perv

Perv!Illumi x Fem!Reader

A/N: sorry this is short and may resemble my other perv writings… but I hope y’all like it! Join my server

warnings: pervy Illumi, yandere behavior, masturbation, panty stealing, he’s kind of yucky, breeding, pregnancy

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Illumi had never experienced sexual attraction before. Had he gotten some morning wood once or twice? Yes, but he rarely felt the urge to jack off.

That was… until he met you.

He wasn’t quite sure what made you so appealing. You looked ordinary, at least… you should have. Illumi had been surrounded by the worlds most beautiful women since he was but a boy… yet here he was, getting hard over a girl he had barely met.

Maybe it was your soft curves, or the ways your hips swayed when you walked… it could have even been your sweet voice, and those pretty, glossy lips that made him want to pull you in and taste the shiny lipgloss you were wearing…

Whatever it was, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Illumi’s body had been acting strangely. Even a whiff of your perfume could have his cock twitching, standing at attention and ready for you… it was quite embarrassing, or it would have been if Illumi had any shame.

No, the only reason Illumi his his overwhelming desire for you was because he wanted these feelings to go away as quickly as possible. He couldn’t fall for some nobody Hunter with nen weaker than all the other applicants that had passed with you. No, Illumi was supposed to marry the best of the best, a woman whose womb could bear a strong heir.

But… that didn’t stop him from acting on some of his urges…

Unfortunately, Illumi couldn’t seem to let you out of his sight. It was annoying, following you around as you did your little daily chores in town. He could hardly get any work done when you looked so cute. You didn’t even realize your panties were showing when you bent over to pick up a coin…

When he couldn’t be constantly watching over you, Illumi would steal little trinkets from your home to… keep him satiated. Used panties, your lipgloss, and clothing items that smelled like your perfume.

He’d wrap your panties around his cock as he jerked off, your cardigan pressed against his face. If he really focused, he could imagine your pussy tightening around him, your plump thighs pressing against him as he bounced you on his cock…

He’d cum buckets into your panties, then break into your apartment and drop them off on your floor, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift.

After a while, his urges grew and grew, until your panties just weren’t enough for him anymore.

Wooing you wasn’t too hard, and getting into your pants was easier than he would have though. The fact you were a virgin was very surprising… but welcomed. After all, he was a virgin as well.

The second his cock sunk into you, he immediately knew that he could never let you go. To hell with a strong heir, he wanted you, and only you. You were the only one that could make him feel this way… soft, vulnerable, and so goddamn horny.

Poor, poor you, having Illumi fuck into you for hours on end, unable to pull out of your pretty, warm cunt. He fucked so much cum into you that you felt so swollen and full…

Even after he was done, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he held you close, kissing the top of your head. “You’re all mine, darling. I’ll have wedding preparations ready within a week.”

You were much too exhausted to argue… and you weren’t sure you could say no to Illumi Zoldyck… so you just slept, accepting your fate. You’d be taken care of, and would never have to worry about anything ever again.

Shortly, Illumi would have his now pregnant wife in his home, where she would be safe, and where he could ravish her whenever he felt like it.

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jezebelblues · 10 days ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭)

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬’ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ (piv) oral (f!receiving), softrry, drunkrry, needy!h, alcohol, fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 8k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY)

❏ before anyone anons me i made the gif 😧 and thank u for the request anon !! this was so fun to write :) i hope it met ur expectations

masterlist

harry was in the kitchen, holding a wine glass half-filled with straight tequila, his pinky finger looped over the rim like it was fine champagne. YN stood next to him, one hand on his arm, steadying herself—or maybe steadying him.

"you're a liability, you know that?" she giggled, her words slurring just enough to make him grin.

"me?" he huffed, leaning into her slightly, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the glass. "'m the liability? you've been clingin' to me all night, petal, can't walk straight without me."

she smacked his arm lightly, laughing. "it's 'cause you keep givin' me tequila! this is your fault."

he tilted his head, his eyes squinting like he was genuinely considering this. then he shrugged, nonchalant, dimples flashing. "s'pose you're right. but i reckon you love me for it, yeah?”

"love you despite it," she corrected, but she was smiling, her fingers curling into the sleeve of his shirt.

the flat was warm, soft yellow light spilling over cluttered corners and half-empty glasses, the air thick with laughter. it was the kind of late evening that felt like the exact middle of spring—windows cracked open, a cool breeze sneaking in, ruffling the edges of the curtains. someone had put on a playlist an hour ago, though the music had long since melted into the background, now just a hum beneath the chatter. the small group, crowded into the cozy living room, was exactly the right size to make the space feel alive but not cramped.

their flat always smelled faintly of cedarwood and something clean, though tonight it carried undertones of tequila and lime. he’d insisted on tequila because, as he explained with a wide grin and an unconvincing shrug, “s’just easier that way, innit?” no one really argued, though mitch had given a (poorly executed) rick sanchez imitation as a counter, something that harry didn’t quite understand, leaving him to furrow his eyebrows and dart his eyes around as he mulled it over, mumbling, “why are y’speaking like that? i don’t get it.”

now, hours later, harry was sprawled in the corner of the couch, long legs stretched out, a glass balanced precariously on his knee.

“i swear—i’m swearin’ right now—this is the last one.” he mumbled, lifting his glass as though making a toast. his speech was just a little slurred, the tips of his curls sticking to his temples. YN, perched beside him, nudged his side with her elbow, laughing.

“you said that half an hour ago, baby.” she teased, leaning closer to steal a sip from his glass. his free hand immediately looped around her waist, pulling her snug against his side.

“’s different this time,” he insisted, his voice dipping low, mock serious. “i mean it now. promise.”

“oh, you’re so convincing.” she smiled, her fingers absently running along the seam of his shirt, her touch light and familiar.

on the other side of the coffee table, mitch snorted, tipping his head back against the edge of the sofa. his hair, always a little unruly, had fallen out of whatever loose tie it had been in earlier. sarah, seated on the floor beside him with her legs crossed, nudged him in the ribs.

“you’re not much better,” she pointed out, gesturing to the glass in his hand.

“oi, don’t start,” he shot back, lifting a hand in mock defense.

the back-and-forth had been going on like this for the better part of the evening—easy, unfiltered, slightly nonsensical. everyone was comfortably slouched, shoulders loose, cheeks warm, the kind of drunk that makes the room feel like it’s spinning just the tiniest bit, but not enough to care.

harry had been stealing glances at YN all night, grinning at the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, her cheeks flushed from a combination of alcohol and the warmth of the room. she caught him staring at one point and poked his chest, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“what are you looking at?”

“you.” he shrugged simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, blinking at her as if she was blurry and needed to come into focus.

YN rolled her eyes, though her smile gave her away. she parted her lips to speak, though harry cut her off before she could bother.

"you're all–” he gestured vaguely at her face, his voice lilting like he hadn't figured out the rest of the sentence yet. "and i'm–" another aimless wave of his hand, this time at himself.

"you're what?" she asked, tilting her head, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.

harry leaned closer, his knee brushing hers. his curls had started to flatten at his temples, damp from the heat of the room, and his cheeks were flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “i’m in love.” his words were slightly sing-song, punctuated by the tilt of his head.

the room dissolved into chaos not long after, though no one could say for certain what triggered it. maybe it was the tequila. maybe it was just the kind of energy that builds when a group of close friends is together in one place, everyone feeding off the same shared sense of silliness.

“right,” mitch announced suddenly, sitting up straight and nearly spilling his drink in the process. “i bet—” he paused, frowning in concentration as though piecing the words together took effort. “i bet i could do more push-ups than you.”

he blinked, the challenge taking a moment to register. then his brows lifted, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“you’re jokin’, right?”

“nah, m’serious.” he leaned forward, setting his glass on the table with a decisive thunk.

“you’re both idiots.” sarah breathed, though she was already pulling her phone out, clearly ready to document whatever was about to happen.

YN groaned, burying her face in her hands. “please don’t encourage them.”

“what, you don’t believe in me?” harry asked, feigning hurt as he turned to look at her.

“you’ve had, like, seven shots of tequila, h.”

he held up a finger. “six. maybe five and a half.”

she looked at him, tongue in cheek, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “not helping your case.”

in the end, there was no stopping it. mitch had already shifted to his knees, clearing a space in front of the coffee table. harry followed suit, swaying slightly as he stood and then immediately dropping down to the floor.

“’s not fair, though,” harry slurred as YN slid a pillow beneath his fists. “i’ve got longer arms. more distance t’cover.”

“what kind of logic is that?” sarah asked, laughing.

“solid–“ hiccup “–solid logic.” he muttered, lowering himself into position.

for the first few push-ups, they were evenly matched. mitch, whose hair kept falling in his face, managed to hold his form pretty well, his elbows bending at clean angles. harry, despite the tequila, seemed entirely unbothered, his movements smooth and steady.

“oh, this is ridiculous,” YN mumbled, though she was grinning now, leaning forward with her chin resting in her palm.

“keep count.” mitch grunted, while sarah angled her phone to get both of them in the frame.

“seven,” YN called, her voice louder over the sound of their laughter.

“eight,” sarah chimed in.

“nine,” she smiled, though by this point, mitch was visibly struggling. his arms trembled, his breaths coming out in quick puffs, his hair falling into his mouth. harry, on the other hand, was still going strong, his movements punctuated by muttered comments.

“easy.” push. “light work.” push–hiccup. “this one’s for you, petal.” he added, shooting a quick wink at his girlfriend.

“oh my god.”

“thirteen,” sarah announced, though she sounded doubtful as mitch wobbled dangerously, his arms nearly giving out.

"how's he doin' that?" sarah asked, watching harry like he was some kind of anomaly.

harry started to strain just a bit, "core strength, love.”

"core strength my ass," mitch shot back, collapsing flat onto the floor. "he's built like a fuckin' slinky. bounces back."

YN laughed so hard she snorted, and harry immediately glanced up, his expression melting into something soft and dopey the second he saw her.

“i’m—i’m done.” mitch declared, already rolling over onto his back.

harry sat back on his knees, raising his fists in mock triumph. “and the crowd goes wild,” he said, grinning up at YN.

“you’re arrogant.” she sighed, though she reached for his wrist, tugging him back onto the couch beside her.

“what can i say,” harry mumbled, settling against her. “m’good at everything.”

the evening wound down slowly after that, the energy softening into something quieter, sleepier. sarah scrolled through the video on her phone, narrating bits of it for everyone’s amusement.

“look at mitch,” she said, laughing. “he looks like he’s dying.”

“i was dying,” mitch muttered from the floor, his arm thrown dramatically over his eyes.

YN reached for harry’s hand, threading her fingers through his, her voice low and teasing.

“are you proud of yourself?”

“very.” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple.

and for a while, no one said much of anything. the playlist had shifted to something softer, the kind of music you hum along to without thinking. the tv, still on in the background, flickered faintly, casting shadows across the room. harry’s arm rested around YN’s shoulders, his eyes fluttered closed, his thumb drawing slow circles against her skin.

mitch was still on the floor, sprawled out like a martyr, while sarah waved her phone in his direction, wobbling as she stood.

"y'done, jesus christ?" she asked, her words swimming together in a way that made her laugh at herself. "need any help, or you reckon you'll just ascend back t'heaven on your own?"

“ha fuckin’ ha," mitch mumbled, lifting one hand in a weak attempt at a rude gesture. "perfectly fine, thank you."

"you're not," sarah replied, flopping onto the arm of the sofa. she nearly slid off, catching herself with a giggle before poking YN with her foot. "and neither's your fella."

YN glanced sideways at harry, who was leaning so far into her that she might as well have been holding him upright. his nose was tucked against her temple, and he was humming something under his breath—a soft, disjointed melody that might've been a song or might've been nothing at all.

"all good," he muttered, his words smudged around the edges. "better'n mitch, anyway."

"low bar.”

he opened one eye, a mischievous glint sparking through his drowsy expression as he glanced at mitch, then back toward YN. "m in love with you, y'know," he breathed, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

"we know.” mitch groaned from the floor.

"no, but like–” he pushed himself up slightly, though his movements were clumsy, his balance swaying like a tree in the wind. "like, really in love. like, proper. s’serious.”

“oh yeah?” she asked, though her hands flew to her cheeks, trying to cover the pink that bloomed there.

he reached out, his fingers fumbling to gently tug her hands away from her face. "don't hide from me," he pouted, his voice soft and warm. "can't handle it when you hide."

sarah made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, shaking her head as she leaned over to prod mitch with her foot. "we need to leave before he gets worse," she said.

"worse? how can he get worse?" he replied, his voice muffled from where he was still sprawled on the rug.

harry didn't seem to notice them. he was focused entirely on YN, his gaze heavy and unflinching as he settled his head into her lap.

"you're so pretty," he hummed, his words slow and drawn out like he was tasting them for the first time. "have i told you that tonight?"

"a couple of times.”

"doesn't feel like enough.” he frowned, his fingers brushing against her knee like he was grounding himself in her. "you're... you're unreal. sometimes i look at you and i can't believe—" he trailed off, shaking his head like words weren't enough.

"he's gonna make me cry.” sarah whispered, half-laughing as she leaned into mitch's shoulder.

"you'll get used to it.” YN rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling.

harry frowned deeper, looking up at her. "don't roll your eyes at me. 'm being serious."

"oh, i know you are, dork.” she grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a small, pleased sound escaping his lips.

"if i don't call an uber now, i'm never getting out of here.” sarah said suddenly, sitting up and reaching for her phone.

"why would you wanna leave?" harry asked, turning his head to squint at her. "you're comfy. stay."

"gotta leave before this turns into a whole bloody soft-core," mitch muttered, finally pushing himself into a sitting position.

harry’s eyes narrowed in slight confusion, his lips parting as he whispered the word soft-core in different tones over and over as if it might click.

mitch let out a noise that was half a laugh, half a sigh. "you’ll get it eventually, mate.”

sarah stood, brushing off her jeans as she looked down at YN. "you gonna be alright with him?"

she glanced at her boyfriend, who was still nestled into her lap, mulling mitch’s response still. "he's harmless," she shrugged. "just annoying when he's drunk–”

harry interrupted with a sharp clap of his hands that turned into a point in mitch’s direction, shoulders shaking in slurred, squeaky laughter. “s-soft–core porno!” he giggled, his cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled. “that was a good one. this guy.”

mitch rolled his eyes, waving harry’s laughter off before he looked at YN. “have fun with this fool in the morning.”

"love you.” he mumbled immediately, moving his hand to give her thigh an exaggerated squeeze.

"yeah, yeah.” she laughed as she pried his hand off her.

"alright, we're off," sarah announced, grabbing mitch's arm and pulling him to his feet.

"safe travels! love you guys!” harry called weakly, his words slurring together as he waved at them from where he lay.

YN walked them to the door, leaning against the frame as they stepped out into the hallway.

"text me when you're home.” she insisted, earning a nod from sarah.

when she turned back into the flat, harry was sitting upright on the couch, his legs tucked under him like a kid waiting to be told a bedtime story.

he pouted slightly, "you left me.”

“and you lived!” she smiled, as if she was astonished. “my boy’s a survivor.”

"barely.” he groaned, flopping dramatically back against the cushions.

YN crossed the room and plopped down beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "you're so much worse than usual tonight."

"can't help it," he shrugged, his head tipping to rest on her shoulder. "you bring it out in me."

"oh, so this is my fault now?" she teased, her hand sliding into his hair again.

he only hummed an, “mhm,” before he tried to push himself closer toward her.

"stay here forever," he mumbled.

"i already live here," she reminded him.

"no, like—forever," he insisted, his fingers brushing hers where they rested on the couch. "promise you won't leave me. not ever."

YN turned her head to look at him, her heart twisting at the vulnerable expression on his face. “baby, where's this coming from?"

he shrugged, looking down at their hands. "just love you so much it scares me sometimes."

"i'm not going anywhere.”

"promise?"

"promise.” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead to his.

his breath hitched, and for a moment, they just stayed like that, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

"alright," he breathed finally, his voice shaky but lighter now. "but you have to keep scratching my head or i'll revoke your girlfriend privileges."

the flat felt too quiet now that mitch and sarah were gone, the absence of their voices leaving only the faint buzz of the tv and the occasional sound of cars splashing through puddles outside. the mess of empty bottles and glasses scattered across the coffee table didn't seem to matter. nothing did, really. just him. just her.

harry's lips found hers eventually, and god, it was all so drunk and messy. the kind of kiss where his mouth didn't quite find the right angle, and she ended up laughing against him, her hands pushing gently at his chest.

"you're so bad at this," she teased, her words soft and slurred, her face warm with the alcohol coursing through her.

he pulled back just enough to look at her, his brows furrowing dramatically, lips parted in mock-offense. "bad at this? me?"

"yeah," she said, biting back another laugh. “you're awful. terrible. completely hopeless."

"hopeless?" he repeated, his accent thicker, vowels stretching and tangling together. his hands slid down her back, settling on her hips with a grip that was just firm enough to make her breath hitch. "you're sittin' with me, kissin' me, tellin' me i'm hopeless. 's'not very nice, is it?"

"maybe you deserve it.” she grinned, her forehead leaning against his.

he made a low, disbelieving sound in his throat, but his lips were twitching, caught somewhere between outrage and affection. "you're trouble, you are. absolute trouble."

"and you love it."

"fuckin' right, i do," he said, smiling as his hands tugged her hips forward slightly, pulling her more firmly into his lap.

the movement had her tumbling into him, her face pressed against his neck as they both laughed, a breathless, bubbling kind of laughter that only made her feel warmer. his breath tickled her ear as he spoke again, voice soft but tinged with that familiar teasing edge.

"bet i'm not that bad at it," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.

"you are, though," she insisted, but her voice was quieter now, a little unsteady.

"mm, don't think so," he hummed, his mouth trailing clumsily down her neck, his stubble rough against her skin. "reckon you'd've gone t’bed by now if i was, wouldn't you?"

her fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck. "reckon i'm too drunk to leave," she teased, but the way her voice caught on the last word betrayed her.

"nah," he said, one hand drifting under the hem of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her bare skin. "you're drunk, but not that drunk. you like me too much."

"you're so full of yourself," she whispered, laughing again, but it came out breathier this time, her body leaning into his touch without thinking.

he hummed, his thumb tracing slow circles over her side. "but y'don't seem t'mind."

she didn't. not one bit.

his lips found hers again, slower this time, a little steadier despite the alcohol making his movements clumsy. he kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like they weren't surrounded by a sea of half-empty glasses and the faint smell of tequila.

things felt hazy, lazier, punctuated by quiet giggles and the occasional whispered comment that sent them both into fits of laughter. his hands were warm and wandering, slipping under her shirt, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up her back.

"you're gonna get me all tangled," she muttered when his hand accidentally caught the hem of her bra, tugging it sideways.

"oops," he said, grinning sheepishly, his fingers clumsily fixing it. "sorry, petal. too drunk f’precision, aren't i?"

"you're too drunk for a lot of things," she teased, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"uh-uh," he murmured, his hands settling on her hips again, adjusting them roughly, sloppily as he shifted her back to rest against the cushions. "not for this. not for you."

her chest tightened at the way he said it, his voice soft and so full of affection that it made her feel like the center of the universe.

the couch creaked under their combined weight, and harry was leaning too far into her, half on top of her, his body slumped and heavy in that jellied, boneless way. his mouth was pressed to her neck, leaving messy kisses between murmured half-thoughts, most of which didn't even make sense. '…m’tellin' you," he mumbled, his lips brushing against her skin. "you're too beautiful for your own good. s'gonna be a problem f’me."

"a problem?" she repeated, laughing breathlessly as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, trying to steady him. "harry, you're literally falling over."

"no m’not," he insisted, though his weight shifted again, and his elbow slipped off the armrest. he caught himself just in time, his hand landing somewhere between the cushion and her thigh.

"you are!" she laughed a bit harder now, her body shaking with it.

he looked at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair a mess of curls that kept falling into his face. "i’m not," he said again, grinning in that slow, drunk way that made her heart trip over itself.

then, as if to prove his point, he leaned in closer, nudging her chin with his nose before kissing her again, clumsily and so, so sweet.

"har–” she started, but she barely got the word out before his knee slipped, and suddenly he was gone, tumbling sideways off the couch.

it happened so fast she didn't even have time to grab him. one second, he was on her, warm and heavy and everywhere, and the next, he was on the floor in a heap of gangly limbs and laughter.

"jesus,” she gasped, leaning over the edge of the couch to look at him.

but harry wasn't upset. not even a little bit. he was lying on his back, laughing so hard his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving with it.

she covered her face with her hands, though she couldn't stop laughing either. "you okay?"

"all good.” he said through his laughter, his voice a little high-pitched from how breathless he was.

he rolled onto his side, one hand braced on the floor, the other wiping at his face as he grinned up at her. "just... miscalculated. s'all."

"think that’s an understatement, baby.” she shook her head as she sat up on the cushions, still giggling.

“see?” he pushed himself up to his knees with a dramatic groan, "you’re too gorgeous for me t'function right now."

she watched him, her laughter softening into a fond smile as he sat back on his heels, looking up at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

his hands, big and clumsy but warm, found her knees, gently pushing them apart as he shifted closer, his breath still unsteady from laughing.

"harry,” she murmured, a little breathless now, her voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a warning.

he shushed her, his fingers brushing up her thighs, just barely slipping under the hem of her shorts. "just…lemme,”

"lemme what?" she asked, though her body was already responding to him, her knees falling wider apart.

he grinned, tilting his head to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh. "taste you," he slurred, his voice low and warm and so full of affection that it made her toes curl. "s’been all i can think about."

her tummy flipped, and she bit her lip, her fingers curling into the edge of the couch cushion. "you’re too drunk for this."

he shook his head, pressing another kiss to her thigh, this one a little higher. "no, m’not. i’m exactly drunk enough. look–” he gestured vaguely at himself, nearly losing his balance before catching himself on her leg. "perfectly steady."

she couldn't help it—she laughed, her head tipping back against the couch as she looked down at him.

his hands slid farther up her legs, feather-light and teasing, enough to make a heat pool between her thighs, harry gazing up at her through his eyelashes.

she tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat as he leaned forward, his face so close now, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. the heat of him, the desperation in his touch, sent a shiver racing up her spine.

"baby–” she breathed, her voice softer now, less sure.

his eyes were hazy but so full of love it made her chest ache. "please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, something that sounded dangerously close to a whimper. "lemme taste it, yeah? promise i’ll be good."

her breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could do was nod, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to his hair.

"yeah, petal?” he asked, his grin widening, and the sheer joy in his expression made her heart feel like it was going to burst.

“yeah.”

his hands were unsteady, but they were so careful, so sure of their purpose as they slid further up her thighs, the soft cotton of her shorts bunching under his fingertips. he was still grinning like an idiot, lips hovering just above her skin, his curls brushing against her as he peppered sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her leg. "you're so soft," he mumbled, voice muffled against her thigh, his words sticky with alcohol and affection.

"it feels good.” she whispered back, her hands carding through his curls, tugging gently when his teeth scraped just a little too hard.

"you love me?” he asked, turning his head to rest his cheek against her, blinking up at her like a puppy who'd just been caught making a mess.

her fingers stilled in his hair as he looked up at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his lips parted slightly as he waited for her answer. she bit her bottom lip, feeling the words catch in her throat as she stared down at him.

"you already know i do.” she murmured, her voice soft and shaky, her hands sliding down to cup his face. her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, his skin warm beneath her touch.

"say it, though," he slurred, a little whiny now, his lips forming into a slight pout.

"i love you, h.” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm, and his expression softened immediately, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his face into her palm.

"love you too," he muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear, though his words were followed by a sloppy kiss to the inside of her wrist, his lips warm and soft against her skin.

and then, without missing a beat, his mouth was back on her thigh, moving higher with a desperation that had her legs trembling.

"smell so fuckin' good," he muttered, his voice muffled against her skin. his hands slid up to the waistband of her shorts, fumbling slightly as he tugged at the fabric. "need these off, petal. lemme see you."

her breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing as she lifted her hips slightly, helping him ease the shorts down her legs. his hands were uncoordinated, tugging too hard at one side and almost making her laugh, but the intensity in his expression stopped her. he was looking at her like she was something sacred, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he pushed the shorts off and tossed them aside.

"you're s’beautiful," he said, his words slurring together as his hands settled on her thighs again, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there. "you know that? d'you even know?"

"you're drunk.”

"no such thing," he muttered, shaking his head as he leaned in, his lips brushing over her panties. "could be fuckin' blackout and i'd still want you more than anything. always want you, YN."

she couldn't help it—she whimpered, the sound surprising even herself as her fingers slid into his hair again, tugging gently to pull him closer.

he looked up at her with that soft, pleading expression that made her heart stutter. "gonna let me?”

her voice caught in her throat, and all she could do was nod, her fingers tightening in his curls as he grinned, his dimples flashing even in his drunken haze.

"that's m’girl," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hip before hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties and sliding them down.

the cool air made her shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth, the way he pressed soft, deliberate kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, working his way higher.

he let out a breathy laugh as he settled between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her steady. "smell like heaven. taste like it too, i bet."

she whimpered, her head tipping back against the couch as his tongue flicked out, the first slow, teasing stroke making her whole body jolt.

he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, and she couldn't hold back the moan that spilled from her lips, loud and unrestrained.

"that's it," he sighed, his voice muffled as his tongue moved against her clit, his hands tightening on her thighs. "that's m’good girl. so sweet for me."

his words were slurred and incoherent, broken up by the way he licked and sucked at her pussy like she was spilling honey, like he couldn't get enough.

her hands clutched at his hair, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as her legs trembled on either side of his head.

his tongue swirled and flattened against her until her hips bucked more than once, a shaking mess in his hands as he pulled her closer to his mouth—so close he could drown in her (not that he’d mind).

“fuck–” she moaned, a shaky exhale leaving her lips as he dipped lower, his tongue flicking against her hole, sloppy and eager.

he hummed against her, the sound low and rough and completely unselfconscious, like he couldn't help but lose himself in her. "could stay here forever," he muttered, his lips moving against her like a prayer. "live here. die here. s'worth it."

his hands gripped her thighs tighter as she let out the lightest giggle from his words, pulling her closer, spreading her wider. he kissed her deeper, his tongue sliding into her, slow and deliberate and so desperate it made her chest ache.

her breath hitched, her legs trembling on either side of his head, and he groaned like she was the best thing he'd ever tasted, like he couldn't get enough. "god, you're so good," he slurred, his voice unsteady as he pulled back just enough to look up at her, his lips slick and swollen. "so, so good, YN. d'you even know? fuckin' perfect, petal. can't believe you're mine."

the rest of his words melted into incoherent sounds, soft groans and murmured praise that blended with her own breathy moans as he delved back in to lap at her, circling her clit like it was the only thing that mattered.

her head tipped back, her body arching into his touch as he dragged her closer and closer to the edge, his movements clumsy but so desperate, so full of love that it made her chest ache.

when she came, it was sudden and all-consuming, her body shaking as she cried out, her moans spilling into the quiet room like music. harry didn't stop, his hands holding her steady as his tongue worked her through it, his own groans muffled against her as though he was enjoying every second as much as she was.

when her body finally stilled, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, he pressed one last soft kiss to her inner thigh before leaning back, his face flushed and glistening, his grin wide and satisfied.

harry shifted up the couch with all the determination of a man who was too drunk to move properly but too stubborn to let that stop him. his arms framed either side of her, his body hovering as best he could, though it was more of a slow collapse than anything elegant. he grunted softly as he settled his weight, pressing her deeper into the cushions, their bodies flush in a way that made both of them shiver despite the warmth of the room.

she let out a quiet laugh, breathless against the way his curls brushed against her face, sticking to his damp forehead. he huffed at the sound, lips tugging into a sloppy grin before pressing them clumsily to hers. the kiss was slow and sweet at first-warm and gentle, his mouth barely brushing against hers like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

but then she shifted slightly beneath him, her fingers curling into his sides, and it was like something broke loose in him. the kiss deepened, messy and urgent, all soft gasps and the taste of tequila lingering on his lips. he kissed her like he was starved for it, as if every second that passed without her mouth on his was unbearable.

his hands roamed her body as if he didn't know where to settle, tugging at her waist, smoothing over her thighs, curling under her back like he needed to feel every part of her. his hips pressed against hers instinctively, and he groaned into her mouth, the sound loud and unfiltered as he broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead falling to hers.

harry looked down at her, his eyes blown wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly. he tried to push himself up further, but his movements were clumsy, his arms wobbling under his own weight. she couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her lips, and he scrunched his face into a dramatic pout, shaking his head slightly like a sleepy puppy.

his hands fumbled at the hem of his jeans, tugging once before stopping completely, his shoulders sagging. he groaned softly, his head dropping to her shoulder with an audible thud.

"bloody things," he mumbled against her skin, though the words were barely coherent.

she smiled softly to herself, her hands sliding up his back, her fingers brushing over the waistband where he'd given up.

gently, she nudged at his hips, wordlessly guiding him upward until he sat back on his knees, his hands resting heavily against her thighs for balance. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks flushed pink, his curls damp against his forehead.

there was a quiet kind of helplessness in the way he looked at her then—needy and desperate, his lips parted, his brows furrowed slightly like he couldn't figure out how to do this on his own. she didn't make him ask.

her hands moved to the button of his jeans, quick but careful as she popped it open. he let out a soft, shaky exhale as she tugged the zipper down, his body trembling just slightly under her touch. the denim caught on his hips as she tried to push it down, and harry huffed again, adjusting his weight clumsily to help her pull the fabric free.

"lift," she murmured softly, and he obeyed without hesitation, planting his hands firmly on either side of her hips and raising his body just enough to let her drag the jeans down.

he collapsed back onto his knees with a relieved groan as the fabric pooled around his legs, his head tipping back, his chest rising and falling like he'd just run a marathon. she reached for the waistband of his boxers next, her movements slower this time, deliberate, her fingers brushing against the bare skin of his hips as she slid the fabric down.

his breath hitched at the contact, and he swayed slightly, his hands curling into the cushions beside her for balance. for a moment, he just stared down at her, his expression soft and hazy and so full of need that it made her stomach flip.

"there," she whispered softly, her hands moving to rest against his thighs, steadying him.

harry blinked slowly, his eyes dragging over her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. then, without a word, he leaned back down, his body pressing hers into the cushions again as his lips found hers.

the kiss was desperate now, sloppier than before, their teeth bumping together as they both tried to breathe and laugh through it. his hands slid beneath her, wrapping around her back like he was holding her in place, his chest pressing firmly to hers with every ragged breath.

he just rocked against her instinctively, his movements uncoordinated but eager, drawing a quiet gasp from her lips. harry groaned softly in response, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he muttered something incoherent.

his body was heavy against hers, his warmth and weight overwhelming, but there was something grounding in the way he held her, in the quiet hum of his breathing against her neck. she threaded her fingers into his hair, stroking softly at the curls, and he shivered, his hips pressing closer against hers with a whimper that he didn't bother trying to hold back.

"feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled and thick, each word dripping with need. "fuckin—love you. need–need to be inside.”

her chest ached at the way he said it, so raw and honest, and she pulled him closer, their bodies tangling together in the dim light of the flat. harry kissed her again, his hands curling around her waist, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

he was desperate and clumsy, but god, he was hers. every part of him, hers.

harry moved in desperation, his body heavy and warm against hers as he lined himself up, his forehead pressing to hers. his breathing was ragged, sharp exhales mingling with hers, their chests rising and falling in time. every movement he made was tinged with an uncoordinated eagerness, like he couldn't bear to wait any longer.

he pushed in slowly at first, a groan catching in his throat as he sank into her dripping cunt, his hands gripping at her waist, rough and unsteady.

her body arched instinctively beneath him, her breath hitching as the stretch of his cock pulled a quiet gasp from her lips.

he froze for a moment, his chest pressed to hers, his arms trembling just slightly from the effort of holding himself up. it was like the sensation alone had shattered him, that raw, shaky pause where the world stopped and all that was left was her.

a shaky exhale escaped him, his lips brushing against her cheek as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. he groaned low and drawn-out, the sound muffled against her skin, his grip on her hips tightening as though he was trying to catch his breath.

he started to move, slow and unsteady, his hips rocking forward with a rhythm that was anything but precise—clumsy and needy but so full of need it didn't matter. every thrust drove him deeper into her velvety walls, his body trembling with the effort, soft curses slipping from his lips as he moved.

his weight pressed her further into the cushions, the creak of the couch mixing with the faint, unrestrained sounds escaping them both—her breathless moans, his whiny, broken groans, sounds neither of them were capable of stifling. everything felt louder in the quiet of the flat, the slow slap of skin against skin, the occasional sharp intake of breath when he hit just the right spot.

her hands slid up his back, her nails scraping lightly against his skin, and harry's body jolted in response, his thrusts faltering. he let out a choked whimper, his face still buried in her neck, his lips pressing sloppy kisses against her skin between ragged breaths.

"fuck," he groaned into her ear, though the word wasn't clear, his voice so shaky and low it dissolved into nothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his angle, and the next thrust pulled a gasp from her lips—a sharp rut right against the spongy spot where she felt him the most.

her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer, and harry groaned again, his movements growing rougher, needier.

his arms shook where they braced against the cushions, his entire body trembling from the effort as he picked up his pace, the steady slap of his hips against hers becoming louder, more insistent. there was no rhythm to it, no finesse—just harry losing himself in her, fucking into her like he'd come undone, like his body couldn't stop itself from chasing the feeling of her pussy wrapped around him.

his curls brushed against her cheeks, damp with sweat, his breath hot and uneven as he nuzzled into her neck. the sounds he made were broken now—small, helpless whines and whimpers escaping him between harsh, ragged breaths.

her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly, and his whole body stuttered in response, his hips driving forward with a sharp snap that had her gasping, her voice loud and unrestrained. the sound pulled another whine from him, his hands slipping from her hips to drag up her sides, his thumbs stroking over the curve of her waist, up toward the swell of her tits, the sensitive bud that tightened with his touch.

the couch creaked with every frantic movement, the room filled with the echo of their ragged breaths and soft cries. harry's body never stilled, his thrusts erratic and desperate, his chest pressed tightly to hers their sweat-slicked skin sticking together.

his body tensed as he started to lose control, his pace faltering, his movements turning jerky and uneven. his arms gave out then, and he collapsed on top of her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as his hips snapped into her, over and over, his entire body trembling.

her breath caught, her back arching as the pressure built between them, everything else blurring into the background—nothing but the feeling of his cock, the sound of him, the weight of him.

and then she felt him shudder, a broken groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself deep, the twitch of his length as he spilt himself inside her, his entire body going rigid. he trembled against her, his hands clutching at her waist as though holding on for dear life, his voice dissolving into breathless whimpers against her neck.

harry didn't pull away, didn't move. he stayed draped over her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his face still buried in her neck. his hands smoothed over her sides, shaking slightly as he traced soft, lazy patterns against her skin, grounding himself in the warmth of her.

the silence settled over them slowly, the only sound left in the room their breathing, loud and uneven as they both came down. harry pressed a kiss to her shoulder-soft, tender, nothing like the desperation from moments before.

"fuck," he mumbled finally, his voice hoarse and muffled. "m’addicted to your pussy. swear it."

she let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hands still tangled in his hair as she scratched lightly at his scalp. his whole body relaxed at the motion, a quiet, contented sigh escaping him as he melted further into her.

they stayed tangled together on the couch for a while, the quiet hum of the flat settling around them, their breathing slowly evening out. harry didn’t move much—just shifted enough to nuzzle his face further into her neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to her skin like he couldn’t quite help himself. her fingers carded through his hair, slow and steady, the repetitive motion lulling him into a contented daze.

“you comfortable there?” she murmured, her voice soft, muffled slightly by the way her cheek pressed against the curls at his temple.

“mmh,” he hummed, the sound low and heavy. “too comfortable. can’t move.”

“i’m not carrying you to bed,” she teased, her lips curving into a tired smile.

he let out a quiet groan, a sound so dramatic it made her laugh softly, her body shaking beneath him. he lifted his head slowly, resting his chin against her chest as he blinked up at her, his green eyes sleepy and glassy.

“‘s not fair, you’re too pretty,” he mumbled, grinning softly. “don’t wanna leave you here.”

“stuck with me either way, baby.” she whispered, brushing his curls back from his face, her fingers lingering at his temple.

his smile softened at that, his eyes fluttering shut briefly as he leaned into her touch. then, with an exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself up, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

“alright,” he said, though his voice was still thick with sleep and leftover drunkenness. “bedtime. c’mere.”

before she could protest, his arms were already curling around her, one under her knees and the other cradling her back as he lifted her off the couch.

“harry—” she gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. “you’re gonna drop me.”

he scoffed at that, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip, pulling her closer against him. “m’gonna pretend i didn’t hear that.”

she sighed into him, letting her cheek rest against the crook of his shoulder as he carried her across the room, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. her fingers slid into his hair again, stroking gently, and he let out a quiet, pleased hum at the sensation.

he moved slowly, carefully, his steps deliberate despite the weight of the tequila still sitting in his veins. he was headed toward the bedroom, but as he passed the kitchen, something caught his eye.

a glass—half full of tequila, a lone lime slice floating lazily in the liquid.

harry paused mid-step, his arms tightening around YN to keep her secure as he turned his head, squinting at the glass like it had personally called his name.

“oh, for god’s sake,” she muttered, though her voice was warm and amused, her fingers still playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

harry ignored her, shifting her weight slightly to free one hand, his arm still wrapped firmly around her waist. with the other, he reached for the glass, his movements slow and exaggerated, like he was performing a high-stakes maneuver.

“i can’t believe you,” she said, her laughter muffled by his shoulder.

“can’t leave it there,” he replied, lifting the glass to his lips and draining it in one go. the tequila burned down his throat, and he winced slightly, his face scrunching up before he set the empty glass back on the counter with a quiet clink.

“all better now?” she teased, tilting her head slightly to glance up at him.

“much.” he grinned widely, bunny teeth and dimples as he adjusted his grip on her again, turning back toward the bedroom.

he carried her the rest of the way, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot before stepping inside. the room was dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the curtains, casting faint, golden shadows over the rumpled sheets and pillows.

harry eased her down onto the bed, following after her almost immediately, collapsing onto the mattress with a soft groan. she laughed as he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face in her neck again, his legs tangling with hers.

“this is where i’m stayin’,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her skin.

“good,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, her fingers brushing through his curls again.

they settled into the bed together, the weight of the night pulling them under like a blanket, warm and heavy and sweet. harry’s breathing slowed, his arms still tight around her as if he was afraid she might slip away in the dark.

“love you,” he murmured, the words barely audible, slurred with sleep.

“love you too,” she whispered back, her voice soft as her eyes fluttered shut, her hand still tangled in his hair.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #drunkrry #softrry #subrry #harry styles request

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surielstea · 21 days ago

Text

Undercover Affection

Based on a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, you must pretend to be a couple. During which it’s revealed that Azriel and you are mated.

Warnings: none (that I know of)

A.Note: After a month of ghosting you guys I’m finally back!! And with a fic I’m very proud of so I hope you guys enjoy!!

7.9k word count.

The instructions had been simple enough: "Blend in, gather information, and avoid getting caught." But for some reason, Rhysand had thought it necessary to throw in an extra condition—one Azriel seemed to want to claw his way out of.

"I work alone." The shadow singer gritted through his teeth, shadows billowing over his impressively sized wings.

"Not for this mission, you won't." The High Lord immediately dismisses him, not batting an eye at the male who perhaps every other fae in Prythian was terrified of.

"She's not ready, she'll be a distraction." Azriel counters. A foreign part of you panged with disappointment at that. Did he really find you so incompetent?

Rhys argues back immediately, his anger beginning to ramp up to meet Azriel's and you quickly decide you didn't want to be anywhere near when they collided. "You told me yourself just last week she's the best spy you've ever trained."

Your eyebrows lift a fraction at what Rhys had unconsciously confessed, the barest reaction but enough for the shadow singer to pick up on. His hazel eyes flicked to your own gaze, then back to Rhysand's.

They seemed to be having a conversation, one you couldn't hear. You doubted you'd ever get used to that, the way Rhys could slip into someone's mind—even someone as guarded as Azriel. A shiver went down your spine as you thought about the power of the High Lord of Night.

"You have to be out of your mind if you think I'll ever put her in that kind of danger." Azriel seethed to his brother through the mental connection, unable to even fathom the idea of you having a target on your back.

"She may be your mate but she is also your disciple, did you seriously think she'd never go out into the field?" Rhys could sense his anger, feel it ebbing against a shield that was thinning.

"I only taught her spy work so she'd know how to protect herself—never to put her in harm's way," Azriel says, his frustration making his voice sound almost pleading.

"Then you know she can protect herself. You will be beside her every step of the way, what she wants to do is entirely her decision." Rhys remarks.

"And what if the bond snaps? It could jeopardize the mission—much more, her safety." Azriel poses, the scenario would make all hell break loose in all situations.

"Are you implying you can't keep her safe?" Rhys taunts, the words finding their mark in the Spy Masters head.

You watch their expressions closely, attempting to pick up on what they were saying but the only reaction you could spot was the way Azriel's jaw feathered as he pushed off Rhysand's desk and turned to me.

"Do you think you're ready for this?" There was a certain softness in his eyes you only got rare glimpses of, the sight making you swallow hard.

Your throat felt tight, but you straightened your shoulders and lifted your chin. "I am." Your voice didn't waver, though the intensity of his hazel eyes made it a near thing.

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed you both with a calculating air. The quiet smile tugging at his lips felt almost dangerous like he already knew the outcome of a game you hadn't even realized you were playing.

"The ball," he began, voice smooth, "is being hosted by High Fae whose loyalty to Prythian is questionable at best. Whispers suggest they're courting alliances with forces hostile to Velaris. If true, this could be the first move toward rebellion."

He slid a detailed sketch across the desk. The male's sharp features and cold, calculating eyes etched into the paper made your stomach tighten. Rhys's voice remained steady as he continued. "Kaieel is the orchestrator. We need names, allies, plans—anything we can use to dismantle his efforts before they gain traction. The masks and secrecy of the event work in our favor. You'll attend, blend in with the crowd, and leave no trace of your presence."

"And our cover?" you asked, though you weren't sure you wanted the answer.

Rhys's lips twitched. "Newlyweds."

The single word hit you like a jolt of lightning. Your heart stumbled, catching somewhere between shock and disbelief. "A couple?" you uttered, trying to keep your voice even.

"A young pair enamored with each other and blissfully distracted. The perfect cover." Rhys's eyes sparkled with mirth, though his tone was all business. "An unattached male draws suspicion. A pair in love does not."

Azriel didn't react outwardly, but his silence spoke volumes. You risked a glance at him, finding his gaze fixed somewhere distant. Was the idea truly so unbearable to him?

"The priority," Rhys continued, "is information. If your cover is compromised, you extract yourselves immediately. But until then, you'll need to act the part—dancing, whispering... perhaps even a kiss or two, if the situation calls for it."

"Rhys," Azriel growled, low and lethal.

Rhys only smirked, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. "Relax, Az. You might even have fun. Any questions?"

You shook your head, pulse hammering. The mission was simple in theory, but with Azriel by your side—close enough to feel his warmth, to brush against the bond neither of you had spoken of—it felt like you were stepping into something far more dangerous than a ballroom full of enemies.

"Good," Rhys said, dismissing you both with a wave. "You leave at dusk."

Azriel turned abruptly, the tension in his wings a visible reminder of the storm brewing within him. As he stalked toward the door, you followed, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

Whatever lay ahead, one thing was clear: the mission wouldn't just test your skills as a spy—it would test every fragile boundary you and Azriel had built between the two of you.

—

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your gown, the soft, luxurious material clinging perfectly to your frame before pooling at your feet. It was a deep shade of midnight grey, almost black, designed to shimmer as if it were the color of the moon itself, glimmering silver in the right lighting. The neckline dipped just enough to be daring without crossing into scandalous, and the fitted bodice accentuated every curve. The gown was a far cry from the shadowy leathers you had grown accustomed to during training.

Your fingers brushed over the mask lying on the vanity before you. It was delicate, intricate silver filigree adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light to match my dress. The sight of it alone made your stomach twist with nerves, though you refused to let the feeling take hold. You were a spy, not some jittery debutante.

Focus.

Your gaze shifted to the mirror as you adjusted the gown again, letting out a slow breath. The transformation was undeniable; the person staring back at you looked like they belonged at this kind of event. For a moment, you barely recognized yourself, and that unfamiliarity was almost reassuring. If you didn't recognize yourself, maybe no one else would either.

The soft knock at the door startled you. You turned, calling out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, closing it behind him with deliberate care.

Your breath was stolen from your lungs at the sight of the Shadow Singer.

He wore an all-black suit that looked as though it had been tailored specifically for him—and knowing the resources of the Night Court, it probably had. The sharp lines of the jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and the subtle sheen of the fabric only added to the air of elegance that clung to him. His wings were glamoured away, leaving no trace of their presence—which was upsetting, but it was his eyes that made up for it—those piercing hazel eyes, framed by long lashes that truly captured your attention. They swept over you in a single, assessing glance, and you swore you caught the faintest flicker of surprise before his features smoothed into their usual calm.

"You look..." His voice trailed off, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Like I'm about to infiltrate a ball filled with potential traitors to Velaris?" you offered lightly, trying to break the tension that had settled in the room.

"I was going to say beautiful, but that works too," he said simply, his voice low and even. The words sent a strange warmth curling through your chest, though you quickly buried it.

Azriel crossed the room, the measured grace of his movements a reminder of the lethal precision he carried with him always. He stopped just in front of you, holding out his hand. "Your mask."

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing it to him. His gloved fingers brushed against yours as he took it, and you were acutely aware of how close he was as he moved behind you.

The brush of his knuckles against your temple sent a shiver down your spine as he adjusted the mask, tying the soft ribbons at the back of your head with deft fingers. His scent—night-chilled mist and cedar—wrapped around you, a quiet distraction that made it hard to focus.

"There," he murmured, adjusting your hair around the ribbon before stepping back just enough for you to turn and face him. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you wondered if he could sense the way your pulse quickened.

"You clean up well," you said, tilting your head slightly. "Almost didn't recognize you without all the shadows."

He raised a brow, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "You'll have to forgive me for not returning the compliment."

Your lips twitched. "And why's that?"

"Because if I did, we'd be here all night," he replied smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rare, fleeting smile.

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected flirtation. Azriel's humor was subtle, almost elusive, but when it surfaced, it always left you reeling.

Before you could find a response, you remembered the last detail. "Oh, wait." You turned back to the vanity, retrieving the small box you'd nearly forgotten. Inside were two rings—simple, elegant bands meant to complete your cover as a married couple.

You slipped one onto your finger, the cool metal fitting perfectly, the sapphire stone placed atop it glimmering in the sunsetting light. You hold out the other to him. "Rhys gave them to me, for authenticity," you said, keeping your tone light despite the awkwardness that had crept into the air.

Azriel's gaze dropped to the ring in your hand, his expression unreadable as he took it. For a moment, you thought he might protest, but instead, he slid it onto his finger with careful precision.

He slipped it onto his finger without breaking eye contact, the deliberate slowness of the action making your heart race. "There," he said, holding his hand up to examine the ring. "How do I look as your doting husband?"

You took a step back, pretending to assess him with a critical eye. "Hmm, you'll pass—just barely. Try smiling a little more. You're supposed to be madly in love with me, remember?"

Azriel leaned in slightly, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "If I smile too much, they'll think I've lost my mind."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Fair enough."

He reached out then, his hand brushing yours as he straightened an imaginary crease in the sleeve of your gown. The touch was fleeting but enough to send warmth creeping up your neck. When he pulled back, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, grabbing the silver clutch from the vanity and looping it over your wrist. "As I'll ever be."

Azriel extended his arm, a rare gesture that made your lips twitch in surprise. "Shall we, gorgeous?" he teased, his tone low and smooth.

You slid your hand through the crook of his arm, matching his smirk with one of your own. "Lead the way, handsome." Whatever this mission had in store, it was clear the most dangerous thing you'd face tonight wasn't Kaieel or his allies. It was Azriel—and the way he made you feel.

—

The ballroom glittered like a scene from a dream, opulent and indulgent in every detail. Chandeliers sparkled with a thousand lights overhead, their glow casting a soft radiance across the sea of masked figures swirling on the marble floor. The air buzzed with muted conversations, laughter, and the soft strains of a symphony playing in the background.

Your arm was looped through Azriel's, his warmth bleeding into you even through the layers of your gown and his tailored suit. He guided you into the crowd with an ease that belied his tension, his hazel eyes scanning every face, every shadow, every corner.

"Stay close," he murmured, the words just for you, his breath brushing against your temple. His voice, low and commanding, sent a shiver down your spine, though you quickly disguised it as a nod of agreement.

"Hard to get closer than this," you quipped softly, unable to resist. You felt him stiffen slightly under your hand, his wings—glamoured away but somehow still present in your mind—practically bristling with restrained energy.

He didn't respond, but the faintest curve of his lips betrayed him. If it weren't for the mask obscuring part of his face, you might have caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Instead, his focus shifted, scanning the room until it landed on your target.

Kaieel stood near the far edge of the room, his tall frame commanding attention even in this crowd of nobles. His mask, dark and menacing, covered much of his face, but his icy blue eyes gleamed through the filigree, sharp and calculating. A small circle of sycophants surrounded him, laughing too loudly at his every word. He raised a crystal flute to his lips, sipping lazily as though the fate of Prythian wasn't potentially hanging on his next move.

"Eyes on Kaieel," Azriel murmured, tilting his head just enough for his words to reach you. "But keep it subtle. The last thing we want is him noticing our interest too early."

"Subtlety is my specialty," you whispered back, earning a flick of his gaze, though he said nothing. His grip on your hand tightened as he steered you toward the dance floor.

Before you could question him, Azriel pivoted smoothly, releasing your arm only to catch your hand and pull you into a waltz. The sudden movement startled you, your other hand landing instinctively on his shoulder as he spun you into the rhythm of the music.

"A dance?" you asked, arching a brow as you tried to ignore the way his hand settled on your waist, firm but not overbearing.

"Blending in," he replied simply, though the set of his jaw betrayed the faintest hint of awkwardness. "Everyone else is dancing. And from here, we have a better view of Kaieel."

You followed his lead, your feet moving in time with his despite the distraction of his proximity. The bond hummed faintly at the back of your mind, an awareness you fought to suppress as you focused on the task at hand. His scent—cedar and chilled mist—wrapped around you, grounding and maddening all at once.

"So," you ventured, your voice low, "do we just stare at him all night, or do we actually have a plan?"

Azriel's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Patience. Kaieel will make his move eventually. Until then, we observe."

"Observation is all well and good," you said, your tone light despite the weight of the moment, "but what if he decides to slip away before we get what we need?"

"He won't," Azriel replied, his confidence a quiet anchor in the storm of your nerves. "He's too arrogant to think anyone here is a threat to him."

You were about to respond when Kaieel's laugh cut through the music, sharp and derisive. Your gaze flicked toward him in time to see him gesture grandly to his circle, drawing their attention—and yours. The words he spoke were lost in the distance, but the smug tilt of his head and the pointed glance he cast toward a cloaked figure in the corner sent a chill down your spine.

"Did you see that?" you murmured, tilting your head subtly toward Kaieel.

Azriel's grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. "I saw. He's signaling someone."

Your next step faltered, and Azriel steadied you instantly, his hand at your back pressing you closer. "Careful," he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver through you. "If you trip, they'll notice."

"Noted," you said, your cheeks warming despite yourself. You tilted your head again, pretending to focus on him as you spoke. "The cloaked figure in the corner. Could be a contact."

"Could be," Azriel agreed, his hazel eyes flicking toward the figure in question. "But we won't know for sure until we get closer."

"And how do you propose we do that without drawing attention?" you asked, trying to ignore the way his hand seemed to linger on your back, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your gown in a way that felt almost deliberate.

Azriel's lips curved into a smirk, subtle but unmistakable. "Leave that to me."

Before you could question him further, the song ended, and he stepped back, bowing slightly as he offered you his arm again. You accepted it, allowing him to guide you off the dance floor and toward the far side of the room. Kaieel's attention was still focused on his circle, oblivious to your approach.

Azriel leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "We'll circle the room, make small talk, and get close enough to overhear. Follow my lead."

"Always," you replied softly, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Azriel's gaze snapped to yours, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing as he led you deeper into the crowd.

The mission demanded your focus, but with Azriel at your side, his presence steady and unyielding, you couldn't help but wonder if the real danger tonight wasn't the secrets hidden in this ballroom—but the ones you carried in your heart.

You move through the ballroom like smoke, seamlessly blending with the opulent crowd. Strangers smile at you—glittering masks of civility over a sea of intentions. They don't need to know who you are; your presence, the confident tilt of your chin, and the luxury of your attire tell them enough. Wealth recognizes power, even in passing.

When you wave at a woman standing beside Kaieel, she returns the gesture, though her eyes narrow ever so slightly, a flicker of confusion betraying her effort to place you. Still, she beckons you closer with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to command.

"Lady Reven," Azriel murmurs in your ear, his voice as soft and deliberate as the shadows that cling to him. "Ex-wife of Kaieel. The hostess of tonight's spectacle."

"She invited her ex-husband?" you ask under your breath, your smile unwavering despite the furrow of your brows.

"He's funding it," Azriel replies, his golden eyes scanning the room. "This way, he and his associates can conspire without his name attached. If the plot unravels—"

"She takes the fall," you finish, your mind catching up to the threads he's weaving.

"Precisely," he says with a wry twist of his lips. Then, with a pointed glance at Lady Reven, he adds, "And she, my love, is your key to him."

Your heart stumbles at his phrasing. Your key? You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with a slight tilt of his head. "I won't be far," he assures you, his voice a soft promise. And then, as if sensing your doubt, the cool, silken pressure of shadows winds beneath your dress, curling around your thigh like an unspoken vow. The sensation is enough to make your knees threaten to buckle.

"What do I even say to her?" you whisper, frowning.

Azriel chuckles, low and teasing. "Have you forgotten all your training already?" The confidence in his tone steadies you. "You'll do just fine. I'll fetch us drinks and join you shortly," he adds, leaning down to press a brief, warm kiss to your temple before vanishing into the crowd like mist.

You force a breath into your lungs and set your shoulders, willing confidence into your stride as you cross the ballroom. The shadows move with you, unseen but ever-present, their cool touch synchronizing with the rhythm of your steps.

As you approach a table laden with crystalline champagne flutes and decadent sweets, your ears tune in to the sharp edges of Lady Reven's voice, drifting from where she speaks to a maid.

"And make sure he leaves alone tonight," she hisses. "He's humiliated me enough in public without dragging some—other female into it."

The maid nods, scurrying off, and you let your gaze fall to the intricately carved edge of the table. The urge to fidget nearly overcomes you before Lady Reven's voice pulls you from the habit.

"I wouldn't bother with the chocolates," she says coolly, stepping closer.

You glance at her, feigning an easy smile. "Good to know." You nod. "I've never been one for sweets anyway, Lady Reven."

Her ruby-red lips curl upward in a knowing smirk. "Have we met?" she asks, her sharp eyes studying you with thinly veiled suspicion.

"Only on paper," you reply smoothly. "My husband works for Kaieel."

Recognition softens her features. "Ah, a friend of Kaieel is a friend of mine," she purrs. "Call me Valenia."

"Of course. Valenia," you echo with a nod, subtly testing the name.

"And where is your husband tonight?" she asks, gesturing vaguely to the glittering crowd.

You tilt your head with a small laugh. "Fetching me something stronger than this champagne," you quip, gesturing towards the burbling fountain of sparkling wine in the center. The honesty surprises her into a laugh of her own.

"Well, I'll have to apologize for the watered-down drinks," she says lightly, her tone dripping with feigned humility.

"No need. This is a stunning event," you counter, gesturing to the ballroom.

A flicker of satisfaction crosses her face. "I think we're alike, you and I," she muses, before looping her arm through yours. "Come. I'll introduce you to Kaieel."

Your pulse quickens as she steers you across the room. You catch Azriel's golden gaze from where he's threading through the crowd, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

"I really should wait for my husband," you try, a nervous laugh slipping out. "We've been recently married, couldn't keep him away if I tried." You attempt to excuse.

"Then it'll be easy for him to find us, hm?" Valenia dismisses with a wink, tugging you forward until you're standing before Kaieel himself.

Kaieel was sprawled on a chaise lounge, maids bringing him drinks, butlers feeding him by hand like he was some kind of king. Even Rhys wasn't this ostentatious. His turquoise eyes fell on you as Lady Raven guided you towards him, dragging his gaze across every inch of your figure. You did your best to ignore it, giving him a bashful smile.

"What have I done to deserve the company of two such radiant creatures?" Kaieel drawls, his grin wide and smug as he leans back in his seat.

"Kai," Valenia greets, her tone deceptively warm, intimacy still flowing between them. "This is—oh, dear, I fear I never got your name."

Before you can answer, an arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you into the familiar scent of cedar and night mist, the warmth of his hold makes your tense shoulders relax.

"Mrs. Lawmore," Azriel announces smoothly, answering for you as he gives Kaieel a grin, his smile disarming as he shields you beneath his presence.

"Lawmore?" Kaieel's eyes narrow with interest. "Lysan Lawmore, is that you under that mask?"

Azriel bows his head slightly, keeping his eyes down in fear of being caught. "It's been some time, apology for my absence but my beautiful wife here needed to be spoiled after our wedding night." You didn't want to know what happened to the real Lysan, neither did you want to know what Azriel did to him to get this information out of him.

"And how exactly did you win over such a lovely companion?" Kaieel continues, taking your hand with practiced charm, his lips brushing lightly over the sapphire on your ring finger.

You smile, tilting your head bashfully. "I believe I was the one winning him over," you say, cutting in before Azriel can.

Azriel's fingers trail from your shoulder down your arm, taking your hand from Kaieel's grasp and threading his fingers with yours. His touch is possessive but gentle, a silent claim.

"How sweet," Kaieel remarks, raising his glass in mock toast. "Remember when we were like that, darling?"

Valenia's eyes flash, her smirk tightening as she looks away. "They're newlyweds, Kai. Still in the honeymoon phase."

"Newlyweds, you say? Well, then," Kaieel says with a devilish grin. "We must celebrate. Let's toast!" He stood, raising his glass. He didn't have to so much as say a word for the entire ballroom to halt and turn to him.

"So kind of all of you to join us on this fine evening, not only are we celebrating this beautiful gathering the lovely Valenia put together," He pauses for a moment to gesture towards the woman who gave a practiced smile and an elegant wave of her hand. "But we are also celebrating the recently pronounced Mr. And Mrs. Lawmore!" He raises his glass, and even if none of these people so much as knew your name, they cheered anyway. Like puppets on a string, controlled by Kaieel himself.

"Go on," Kaieel presses, leaning forward with a wicked glint in his eye. "Kiss the bride."

The demand sends a shiver down your spine. Even the shadows twining around your legs seem to still, waiting.

Azriel was already staring at you, his eyes searching yours. His lips quirk into a soft, almost shy smile, and the question in his gaze is unmistakable.

You nod, barely perceptibly.

"Come here, love," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, tender.

Your lips met, fitting together with startling, unspoken precision—like the final piece of a puzzle you never realized was incomplete until it clicked into place. The kiss lasted only a heartbeat, but in that fleeting moment, everything shifted. The air between the two of you thickened, buzzing with a quiet intensity, as if the universe itself had paused to watch.

Something deep inside you stirred, a part of yourself you'd long buried or perhaps never even known. It unfurled like a blossom in the first light of dawn, warm and aching, a golden thread spinning itself between you. It twined tighter with every second, binding not just your bodies but something deeper, something elemental.

For that brief, infinite instant, there was no ballroom, no crowd, no mission. Just the two of you—two souls suspended in the gravity of a pull you couldn't name but could feel down to your very bones.

And then, like the breathless silence before a storm, realization hit you with shattering clarity. This wasn't just a kiss. It was him. Azriel.

Your mate.

The kiss ended as gently as it began, your eyes wide and searching but he remained calm and steady, you whisper, "You've known?"

Azriel's gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if he was going to kiss you again, and again, and again until the gods themselves had to rip him from you. But before he can answer, the room erupts into applause, Kaieel's voice booming with praise.

Even as the crowd cheers and music resumes, you hear nothing but the pounding of your heart, feel nothing but the truth that thrums in your blood.

Mate.

And he knew.

You don't have time to process the truth searing through your veins. Mate. The word echoes in your mind like a thunderclap, threatening to drown out everything else. But Azriel's hand tightens around yours, steady and grounding. His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable—a mix of reassurance and warning—and you understand: you can't falter. Not here. Not now.

Kaieel's voice cuts through the applause, smug and commanding. "Come now, don't let the celebration stop the night's festivities. Dance, drink, enjoy yourselves!" His hand sweeps over the crowd, his charisma intoxicating, pulling their attention away from you. For now.

"You're too kind, Kaieel," Azriel says. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time with my wife."

Azriel tugs gently on your hand, guiding you away from the center of the ballroom. You follow, trying to shake the weight of the bond snapping into place. But even as he leads you, the golden thread between you hums with a new, undeniable awareness, the shadows brushing against you like a silent promise.

He doesn't speak until you've reached the edge of the room, tucked into the shadowy recess of a grand marble column. His lips are close to your ear, his voice low and smooth. "Are you with me?"

You nod, the words caught in your throat.

"Good," he murmurs. "We need to move fast. Valenia is the key to his plans. Now that you become acquainted we can use her."

You blink, willing yourself to focus. "How?"

"She's vulnerable," Azriel says, his tone edged with calculation. "Kaieel still holds power over her, and it's clear she despises him for it. We can exploit that. Learn who his allies are, how he's funding this rebellion. If we play her right, she'll give us everything."

You glance toward the center of the room, where Valenia stands at Kaieel's side, her posture poised but her eyes cold as she watches him bask in the attention of the crowd. Her mask of indifference is expertly crafted, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten around her champagne flute.

"She definitely hates him," you say quietly. "But will she betray him?"

Azriel's shadows curl against your skin, cold and steady. "She already has. Hosting this event on his behalf, exposing him to scrutiny. She's more desperate than she lets on." He tilts his head toward you, his voice softer now. "We just need to give her the final push."

You swallow hard, nodding. "And if she doesn't break?"

Azriel's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Then we'll find another way. We always do."

Before you can reply, a servant approaches with a silver tray bearing two glasses of dark red wine. Azriel accepts both, handing one to you with an easy smile that belies the sharpness of his focus.

"Drink," he murmurs. "And dance with me. They're watching."

"Again?" You ask, your heart stuttering, but you take the glass, letting him guide you back toward the dance floor.

"This is a ball, love." The music swells as he pulls you into his arms, his movements are fluid and natural as though you've danced together a hundred times. "You didn't think I'd be satiated with one dance, did you?"

The bond thrums again, golden and electric, and you can't ignore it any longer. "You knew, Az," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the violins.

Azriel's gaze flicks to yours, soft but unyielding. "Not here," he murmurs.

"But—"

"Later," he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. "Focus."

This is why he didn't want you coming, you realize. You force yourself to breathe, to move with him, to match the rhythm of the music. Around you, the crowd swirls, their laughter and chatter a muted backdrop. Kaieel and Valenia are watching from the edge of the room, their expressions unreadable.

"Valenia's looking for an ally," Azriel murmurs as he twirls you gracefully. "She doesn't trust him to win against Rhys. We offer her a way out, and she'll talk."

"How do we approach her without raising suspicion?"

Azriel's lips curve into a faint smirk. "Snead your way into her inner circle. Let her think it was her idea. I'll shadow you, gather what I can from Kaieel's other guests."

"And if something goes wrong?"

His hand slides up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your collarbone—a fleeting, deliberate touch. "It won't."

The music slows, and he pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And even if it did, I'd slaughter everyone in this room to get you out."

You shiver, both from fear and something you didn't have time to familiarize yourself with.

The song ends, and Azriel steps back, his mask of calm once again firmly in place. He presses a light kiss to your hand, his lips brushing your knuckles as his golden eyes lock onto yours.

"I'll be watching," he murmurs. Then he's gone, slipping into the crowd as if he were never there.

You take a steadying breath, turning your gaze toward Valenia. She's speaking with a pair of aristocrats now, her laughter light and airy, but her eyes remain calculating. You approach slowly, your steps measured and deliberate.

"Lady Valenia," you say with a soft smile as you reach her side. "I must thank you again for this incredible event."

She turns to you, her lips curling into a practiced smile. "Ah, Mrs. Lawmore. Enjoying yourself, I hope?"

"Very much," you reply smoothly. "Though I must admit, I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you more privately. Your reputation precedes you."

Her brows lift slightly, intrigue flickering in her eyes. "Does it now? And what exactly have you heard?"

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to draw her closer. "That you're the true power behind Kaieel's successes. A woman of vision and cunning."

She laughs softly, but there's a sharpness to it. "And what would you want with a woman like that, my dear?"

You smile, your gaze steady. "To learn from you, of course. I imagine there's much you could teach me."

Her eyes narrow slightly, studying you. Then, with a sly smile, she links her arm with yours. "Come, let's talk. Away from prying eyes."

As she leads you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, you catch a glimpse of Azriel in the crowd. He's watching, his expression unreadable but his presence a constant reassurance.

The game has begun.

———

The ball had stretched into the long hours of the night. Most guests had already taken their leave, yet a few lingered—drunkards, their fingers greedily grasping for what remained of the free wine. You had spent the evening carefully cultivating a list of names, all while trying not to let the thought of your mate—a word that still felt foreign in your mind—distract you.

Valenia, meanwhile, had rattled on endlessly, weaving a tapestry of grand schemes to dismantle Kaieel's empire and seize it for herself. Such a fool. The way she outlined every step was invaluable, her unwitting admissions offering a clear view of both her vulnerabilities and Kaieel's. For someone who fancied herself clever, she didn't understand the dangers of oversharing. Perhaps conspiring alone for so long had driven her to some invisible line of insanity, one she'd now crossed with aplomb.

She was smarter than Kaieel, no doubt, but she wasn't as sharp as she thought herself to be. The rich rarely were. They plotted in circles, their plans frayed with assumptions that gold could patch any hole. A society built on corruption and greed was a society destined to crumble.

A knock on the door shattered the air between you, halting Valenia mid-sentence. Both of you froze as the door creaked open, revealing familiar black hair and molten golden eyes.

"Lysan," you said smoothly, forcing an easy smile.

Valenia hiccuped, swaying slightly as she glanced between you. The liquor had loosened her tongue and dulled her senses—a poor, unsuspecting thing. You'd kept her glass full all night, though yours had remained barely touched.

"You two are lucky," she murmured, her words slurred but still carrying a bite of jealousy.

Azriel tilted his head, stepping closer with his hand outstretched. You met him halfway, your fingers intertwining as if it were second nature.

"So in love," Valenia sighed wistfully. She swirled the deep red liquid in her glass. "Kaieel never looked at me the way he looks at you."

Azriel didn't miss a beat. "I am lucky, aren't I?" His voice was low as he leaned in, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. The touch sent a tremor down your spine, though you leaned into him all the same, your composure unwavering.

"You two lovebirds get out of here," Valenia hummed, waving you off with a glass in hand. "I'll see you soon, Mrs. Lawmore."

You smiled at the title she so easily handed over, bowing your head alongside Azriel as you both slipped out of the room. Moments later, you left the ballroom entirely, leaving behind the clinking of glasses and murmurs of deceit.

———

Once you winnowed into The Cabin, the air was thick with unresolved tension, a thread drawn too tight and ready to snap. You released Azriel's arm but remained close, your breath steady, your gaze piercing.

He shifted, glancing at you with that careful, measured expression of his, but you saw through it. His wings flared slightly before tucking back, as if the space were already too confined for what lay between you.

"We need to debrief with Rhys—" he began, but the words barely escaped before you cut him off, your voice sharp.

"No." You held up a hand, stepping back. "We're not ignoring this."

Azriel sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He reached up, removing the mask with a deliberate slowness that felt like deflection. "Can I at least get comfortable first?"

"Seriously?" you snapped, your arms crossing over your chest.

But he ignored your tone, unbuttoning his shirt with maddening ease. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, revealing smooth, tan skin and the faint lines of tattoos curling down his forearms. Then came his wings—massive, stretching wide as the glamour faded, their dark beauty filling the room like a storm rolling in.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to look away as he folded them neatly behind him.

“Go on," he said, leaning back against the couch, his tattooed arms crossing over his chest, the sight terribly distracting. "I'm listening."

You glared at him, your voice tight. "You knew," you state.

He nodded slightly, but he said nothing, his golden eyes fixed on you with unnerving calm.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts. "The bond—it's not something you just don't mention. Did you think I couldn't handle it?"

He exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it?" you shot back, your frustration spilling over. "You knew this whole time. Azriel, do you have any idea what it feels like to find out this way? To realize you've been keeping something this—this huge from me?"

His jaw tightened, but his expression softened just enough to betray a flicker of vulnerability. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to force it on you."

You barked out a bitter laugh. "Force it on me? What does that even mean? Did you think I'd reject it?"

Azriel stiffened, his wings flexing behind him as if to shield himself. "It's not that simple."

"Then make it simple," you snapped. "Because right now, it feels like you didn't tell me because you were planning to reject the bond. That you didn't want me—"

His voice cut through yours, low and rough like gravel. "Don't."

The single word silenced you, but only for a moment.

"Then tell me the truth, Azriel," you demanded, your tone breaking under the weight of the words. "Tell me why you didn't say anything. Was it because you didn't want me, or because you thought I didn't want you?"

That hit its mark. His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his wings shifting behind him as though he could fly away from the conversation. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step closer, the heat of his body suffocating.

"Love, please," he said, his voice tight with something raw and unspoken. "Do you know what it's like to see your mate and think, this is it—this is everything I've ever wanted—and to know they don't feel the same? To be terrified that if you tell them, they'll look at you like you're nothing?"

Your breath caught, the weight of his words crashing into you.

"Az."

"I didn't tell you," he continued, his voice quieter now, "because I didn't want to lose you before I even had you. I thought if I told you, it would scare you off. You'd think it was some obligation instead of a choice. And I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk, us."

You blinked, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. He hadn't been withholding it because he didn't want you—he'd been scared. Scared of rejection. Scared of you walking away.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "To see you every day, to stand beside you, and know I couldn't tell you? That I had to act like you were just someone I trained?"

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his words, but the anger lingered, sharp and cutting.

"You still should've told me," you said, your voice soft but firm. "You should've given me the choice. You didn't get to decide that for me."

"I know." He looked at you then, and the regret in his eyes made your chest ache. "I know I should've told you. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But don't think, not even for a second, that I didn't want you."

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. He took a step closer, his golden eyes searching yours.

"You can hate me for not telling you," he said, his voice low and rough. "You can hate me for being a coward. But don't ever think I didn't want this. Don't think I didn't want you. Please."

You stood there, his words reverberating in your chest, threatening to undo the last thread of your composure. His golden eyes never left yours, the air between you charged with too much to name. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breathing even as emotions warred within you.

Finally, you broke the silence. "You should've told me," you said softly, the edge in your voice dulling. "Because for all your talk of not forcing it, you didn't even consider that I might have wanted it too."

His eyes widened slightly, and you took a half-step closer, the tension between you pulling tight.

"I've felt, something," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper now. "For a while. I just figured it was a stupid crush, that I was imagining the lingering glances and the all too long touches." You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "But now I know."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, Azriel looked truly shaken. Vulnerable. Like he didn't know what to do with your words.

So you took the choice away and kissed him.

It was tentative at first, your lips brushing his with a softness that belied the storm building inside you. He froze for a heartbeat, and you thought maybe you'd miscalculated—but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer.

When you pulled back, your lips tingling, you raised a brow at the stunned expression on his face. "Kiss me like that again and I might just have to accept the bond," you teased, your tone light but laced with meaning.

"Oh, I'll do more than that." He replied with an easy smirk on his face and before you could muster a flustered reply he connected your lips again, harder this time, more desperate. His hands slid up your back, his wings stretching slightly as though the emotions were too much for him to contain. You gasped into him, his shadows curling around your legs as his lips claimed you fully, unapologetically.

The kiss stretched, time losing meaning as you melted into him. His tongue brushed against yours, his grip on you firm yet reverent, as if he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or keep himself in check.

He kisses you like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the world like you're the air he needs to breathe. His lips press against yours with fervent urgency, soft yet commanding, leaving no space for hesitation.

The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver racing down your spine, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him—silken and deliberate, coaxing, drawing you in until everything else fades. His hands tighten at your waist, his fingers digging into your dress that rivaled the intensity of his kiss.

The world tilts, time seems to stall, and all you can feel is him—the taste of him, the way his body leans into yours as though he can't bear to be apart. Every brush of his lips, every slight tilt of his head, feels like an unspoken confession as if through this kiss alone, he's telling you everything he can't put into words.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His lips were slightly swollen, his golden eyes darkened with something almost primal.

"What does this mean?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "It means," you said, brushing a finger against his chest, "you're going to sit right there." You push him slightly, and he falls back onto the couch as if you struck him with an unrecoverable blow.

He blinked, clearly thrown off by the abrupt shift in your tone. "What?"

"Sit right there," you repeated, gesturing toward the couch. Then, turning on your heel, you made your way toward the kitchen without a backward glance.

He stared after you, confused as to where you were going during a moment like this.

The sound of pans clinking and spices mingling in the air brought him back to reality, though he still couldn't fully grasp what was happening. He'd faced centuries of war, unflinching in the face of death, yet now he sat there—utterly flustered.

An agonizing twenty minutes later, you returned with a tray, setting it down on the small table in front of him. The aroma was rich and comforting, a simple yet meaningful meal that made his chest tighten.

You placed the tray in front of him, your expression softer now, though the playful glint in your eye hadn't dimmed. "Eat, Azriel," you said, settling beside him. "You've earned it after all these years."

He stared at the plate for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Then he looked at you, his voice unsteady. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

You smiled, leaning down, pressing a kiss onto the corner of his lips just because you couch. "What do you think?"

Azriel didn't answer, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips as he picked up the fork. You watched as he took the first bite, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

The bond hummed between you, a quiet, unspoken promise. And as Azriel sat there, eating the food you'd prepared with shadows still swirling around your feet, you realized that this—this quiet moment—was the most eventful part of the night.

And for once, Azriel looked at ease. Flustered, yes. But undeniably yours. And soon, the frenzy would set in, and he'd show you exactly how much of him was yours, body and soul, mates.

Continued drabble here!

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no-144444 · 1 month ago

Text

first dinners- o.piastri

summary: being jack wolff's nanny is a pretty sick gig... only when your boss (/ father figure) isn't trying to interrogate your new boyfriend.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

part one | part two | part three

smut so mdni pls! 18+

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Las Vegas rolled around and you two had been texting back and forth and had even gotten a coffee together. He really liked you. You really liked him. As the paddock filled with people, and all eyes were on the battle between Norris and Verstappen, Oscar sneaking glances at the Mercedes garage went almost unnoticed by the media. He won the race with a 20 second gap from his adoptive father, with both Lando and Max having their races ruined by an accidental oversteer on Max’s end meaning that Lando was down in P5 after having to get his front wing replaced, while Max got taken out by the damage, meaning the championship battle was technically still on.

Oscar finally found you as you stood beside Jack, watching as George lifted his trophy. Oscar sent you a wink to which you smiled and waved, taking some sweet photos of him being celebrated.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

When he texted you to come to his hotel room, never did he ever think you’d be sucking his dick as a congratulations. For being a virgin, you were mentally experienced, or something. There he sat, on the bed, your head between his legs as his brain short-circuited at the way you were sucking him off.

“Fuck,” he grunted, desperately trying to keep his hands to himself as he slowly lost control of his body. The mix of your mouth around his cock, the sound of you actually gagging on him, and your nails digging into his thigh made him want to cum right then and there, but he held off as long as he could, not wanting to end the night prematurely. “I’m gonna-fuck- I’m gonna-!”

And he came in your mouth. And you swallowed it. He looked down at you, a sultry smirk on your lips and he could’ve cum again. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You giggled. “Is that because I just sucked your dick?”

“N-no! I mean-” he stopped talking because you started laughing again.

“I’m kidding,” you smiled. “Thank you Oscar.”

He smiled, then pressed his lips to yours, pulling you closer to him. “Can I eat you out?” he mumbled between kisses.

You were taken aback, someone so shy and reserved happily asking you something so crude out of nowhere. “Y-yeah.”

“Yeah?” he looked at you through hooded eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Fucking beautiful,” he smirked, lifting you up easily as he lay back (for someone so skinny, he really was strong) and sat you straddling his face. “Y’gonna ride my face?” His hands gripped onto your ass, almost bruising as you whimpered at his nose meeting with your clit.

You didn’t answer, much too shocked and excited to speak.

He slapped your ass and it made you lurch forward, grinding against his nose. You moaned out. “Yes! Y-yes Osc!”

“Good girl,” he smirked, and then dove in.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

When you woke up with his arms around you and a sore but satisfied feeling between your legs, you smiled.

“Morning baby,” he smiled, noticing how you were finally opening your eyes.

“Hey,” you grinned, stretching.

“I hope you don’t think I called you here last night just to have sex with you, I really like you and I have for a long time and-”

“Oscar, I’m the one that asked to suck your dick, you’re the one who asked me to sit on your face, we both knew what we were doing.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess,” he took a deep breath. “So can I be your boyfriend?”

You smiled. “Yeah, you can.”

He pressed his lips to yours again.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Was Oscar scared for his life while outside of the McLaren Motorhome in the Qatar paddock? Yes, very much so. Was he even more scared when George texted him, asking him to dinner with Toto, Susie, Jack, you, Lewis, and him? Yes, very much so.

He was terrified as he walked into the restaurant, a bunch of flowers in his hand, and his shirt was ironed. Oscar Jack Piastri had ironed his shirt. His mom would’ve been proud. When he saw Toto at a table for two, his face fell deeper into an expression of misery, and he somehow stopped himself from turning tail and running.

“Oscar!” Toto cheered, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Come sit!”

He was being overly nice, but it was better than the other option, total and utter intimidation. “Hi Toto.”

He sat across from him, shaking his hand and placing the flowers beside him.

“The others will be here in a while,” Toto explained. “I just wanted to chat to you one on one. Congratulations on your win, by the way.”

Oscar nodded. “Thank you.”

“What are your intentions with Y/n?”

Oh. Straight into it.

“Date her?” he answered hesitantly. Toto sighed. Bad answer.

“Y/n is a very special person, in a lot of people’s lives. I don’t want to see you hurting her because-”

“Oh my god! Toto! What the fu-hell are you doing?” you questioned, rushing over to the two of them. Oscar sighed in relief, glad that you were here to save him from Toto’s torment. “I knew you would pull something like this!”

“Ich stelle ein paar Fragen, das ist alles!” (I’m just asking some questions, that’s all) he huffed, getting up. “Es ist kein Problem, ja?” (It’s no problem, yes?) he looked at a very confused Oscar who just stood and nodded. “See! It’s fine!”

“Toto, just let me live my own life, thank you very much. Also, I’ve known Oscar for much longer than you, and I can pick who I want to date, thank you very much,” you scoffed. You grabbed ahold of Oscar’s arm and he smiled, handing you the flowers he got you.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered as you two watched Susie and Toto arguing over his over-protective tendencies, with George and Lewis joining in when they arrived.

“Thanks,” you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I can’t believe you ironed your shirt.”

He chuckled. “Thought I’d try to make a good impression.”

“Well, Toto thinks you’re a great driver, and Susie likes you mum. Good impression made.”

He beamed at you as you chatted with Jack (who was holding your other hand) and made jokes about the situation at hand.

When the 7 of you finally sat at your table and the arguing stopped, pleasant conversation flowed, but then George and Lewis had their turn at interrogating Oscar.

"What's her favourite colour?" George asked.

Oscar smiled. "She doesn't have one."

"Favourite flower?" Lewis questioned.

Oscar just pointed to the bouquet of your favourite flowers he'd gotten you earlier.

"Favourite F1 driver?"

The entire table chuckled at that.

"Are we going legacy or current?" Oscar asked.

"Legacy, then current," George decided.

"Legacy; Rosberg, current, Hamilton," he smirked and the two men applauded.

"Right, good enough for me," George announced.

"If you hurt her, I'll push you off the track," Lewis smiled dangerously as he shook his hand.

"Gosh I'm so glad we live in the 1800s," you scoffed, teasing the men. They just rolled their eyes as Susie and Jack laughed at your joke.

When the end night concluded after one too many embarrassing stories about you, you walked out with Oscar’s hand in your left, and Jack’s in your right.

“Oscar,” Jack’s small voice rang out over the voices of the other people in the group. Oscar stopped and crouched down to hear him, and you snapped a quick photo, quickly putting it in your favourites. Your two boys. “I really like you, and Y/n really likes you. Please don’t make her sad.”

Oscar’s heart swelled at his words, getting acknowledgement from Jack? The highest honour. He nodded, smiling. “I’d never dream of it.”

Jack’s lips broke out into a smile. “Good!” and he skipped ahead and took your hand once more, Oscar following suit.

This really was the start of something great.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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the-kr8tor · 1 month ago

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Hiiii 🤭

Hopping here to request a Reader x Ekko where they're just two love birds and R sneaks into his "office" because she just missed him :( and then one thing leads to another and they're kinda carried away by each other.. that until duty calls up and R watches Ekko switching from loving future husband to the Leader of the Firelights

Love you!!!

Hihihi thank you sm bleaky for the idea!!! Another fic straight from our dms 🤭 I hope you like it, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, reader is a childhood friend turned lover, Firelight! Reader, lovestruck! Ekko, no s2 spoiler, cw suggestive, FLUFF!

Navigation

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The hoverboard whirrs softly from under you, with the moonlight peeking through the leaves of the beloved tree, bathing you in its dappled silver glow. The breeze carries ashen smoke amidst the scent of sweet dew filled flowers.

You lean forward slightly, guiding the board gently towards the open window of the tree house where a certain someone is burning the midnight oil on his workbench. You perch yourself over the window, careful not to make any noise as you slither your way inside. Hopefully staying as a surprise for Ekko.

He felt you before he heard your grunt and the unmistakable sound of your head bumping on the windowsill. Smiling tiredly, he twists in his chair to look at you fondly while you cradle your poor head from the recent bump.

“You know I gave you a key for a reason.” You can practically hear his amusement from his tone.

“Where's the fun in that?” You chuckle, palm patting at the blooming headache. “I thought I'd surprise you.”

Ekko roams his eyes over you as your smirk grows wider with every second he ogles you. “I think you forgot the surprise.” He points at your empty hands, tilting his head to the side in case you've got something hidden behind you.

“Ekko, I'm the surprise.” You wink at him, arms raised to your sides in a ‘here I am’ gesture. He shakes his head with a smile, watching you as you saunter towards him. “You should be asleep.” Your hand finds its place on his cheek, he looks up at you, eyes soft under the warm light of the desk lamp. He leans against your touch, lamenting at the way you gently scratch at his nape. “You can do this once you get some rest. Your board will still be here tomorrow.”

He swears he can fall asleep with your tender touch and voice lulling him to slumber. “I can't,” he sighs, reluctantly pulling away from you to return his attention towards his board that glows softly with green light. “we have something planned early tomorrow.”

Your heart softens for him and his determination. “Am I part of that something something?” Sitting down on his desk, far enough to give him space to work but close enough for you to poke his leg with your foot.

“Not this time,” he glances at you, finding you huffing in place as he screws in the blades tightly. “You still got that shoulder thing.”

“This shoulder thing is alright now.” He raises a brow at you, head shaking lightly. You sigh, surrendering. “Fine, it's acting up again, but it's technically better.” Ekko hums in reply, elbow deep inside the hoverboard. “Kind of. Can I at least help? I don't like feeling useless.”

His hand cups your knee, thumbs tracing swirls on your skin. You can feel how warm his hand is from under his glove. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, okay?” Smirking, he pats you once before returning his hand back to his work as you pout and huff at him. “And you're never useless. You're still healing, trouble. I don't want you getting hurt out there because of a busted shoulder.” A flash of you falling off your board with a sickening crunch fills his vision with dread. He turns towards you fully, tapping his wrench on the wooden table, and gentle eyes softening up at your features. “You'll have your time, I promise.”

You nod, watching as the green hue flickers over his concerned face. “Okay, but you owe me.” You cross your leg over the other while he smiles and turns towards his machine again.

“How many IOUs is that now?” He asks, glancing between you and the board.

You nudge him with your foot, “too many, Ekko.” You say his name with a sing-song lilt, effectively taking his attention. “What?” With a teasing smile, he stares at you wordlessly.

“You're distracting me.” His eyes follows the curve of your jaw up to your lips. Heart stuck in his throat, and eyes glued onto the soft skin. He lays his tools down. Abandoning it immediately.

“Oh,” your shoulders slump slightly. “I'll leave, just get some sleep, okay?” Hopping down, Ekko stops you with his hand on your thigh. “You need something?” You place your hand above his own as he squeezes you.

“Yeah, sit back down for me?” He says it seriously, as if he needs to talk to you about something important.

You straighten up, following his instructions. The desk creaks under your form, and as you wait for his very important words, he stands up from his seat, kicking it away before cradling your face gently in his gloved hands. The rough fabric sits on your cheek, but his touch is softer as he gazes at you with those eyes you've always loved ever since you two were still running around playing pretend.

“Now you're the one distracting me.” You whisper, index looping around his overalls to pull him towards you. Placing him in between your legs, as he leans forward with his head tilted slightly to find the perfect angle of your lips. “What were you saying, Ekko?” Teasing, he inhales deeply, lips merely an inch from your own.

“Let me…?” He says before you crash your lips against his own, answering his cut off question. Your eyes close as he smiles, mirroring your expression. You both kiss in sync, hearts beating in the same pace.

You hear him chuckle softly as your lips fall into a medley of rhythm with his desperate kisses. The kiss runs deep and long, teeth clashing, noses meeting, and hands caressing every angle of you as your own hands roam up his bare and lean arms, until you find penchant on the back of his head. Fingers weaved around his hair, not pulling away, no, pushing him further against you as the air grows hotter around you with every breath you take.

You're home in his arms. And all you can think about is him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your slightly agaped lips, leaning away for a moment to take in air and to remove his gloves to feel you fully.

You stare at him through half lidded eyes, cheeks searing hot and stomach throbbing with ache. “Yeah...” Your voice is shaky at best, legs wrapping around him whilst your chest heaves.

Just as you say it, he meets with your lips once again, taking your breath away as you give it willingly. This time it's softer and gentler as he kisses you tenderly. Your head hits the wall with how much he's kissing you, so with his palm sliding behind your head, he cushions you from the blow as he continues to kiss you fervently as if he hasn't gotten a taste of you in years.

“Ekko.” You sigh out as he kisses the curve of your lips, tracing its shape with his own. “Ekko.” Your tone grows breathlessly as he slowly makes his way towards your throat. “Ekko—” His lips were just about meeting with your warm skin when a knock interrupts you both. “Shit.”

“Damn it.” He murmurs, chest heaving, pupils blown out as he gives you one quick kiss against the side of your neck. Definitely not the final one.

You pat his cheek with a lopsided smile, thumb brushing along his kiss bitten lips, wiping away the sheen you've left. Ekko pecks your thumb before moving away from you. He fixes your rumpled shirt, just as you notice that you've smudged the white hourglass paint on his face. Whoops.

“Ekko, you've got…” you gesture towards his nose, trying to tamp down your laughter.

His blown out eyes widens, lungs still trying to intake oxygen from the strenuous activity. His nose scrunches up when he sees you having the same smudged paint on your face. Smile tamped down by biting his lip.

He looks behind you, where a small mirror is hanging just beside your head. He sees himself looking disheveled, hair sticking all over the place, face paint smudged into an odd shape.

Chuckling, the knocking grows louder. “I've got you, don't worry. I won't let your reputation get tarnished.” You take a handkerchief from your pocket, effectively wiping away the smudged mess on his face as much as you can.

“Did you get it?” He's still breathless when he asked.

“And…there. I've got them all.” You get a thankful peck on your cheek for a job well done.

But before he could move away from you, he takes the handkerchief in his hand to wipe at your (his) own smudged face paint. He tucks the fabric away in his pocket, maybe you'll come looking for it one day, effectively giving you an excuse to come visit him sooner rather than later.

Ekko now moves away, clearing his throat but the evidence of your shared previous activity is still evident on how much he inhales and how his hands are so clammy that he can water the tree with the sweat on his palms.

“C–come in.” He curses under his breath at how his voice cracked at the start. The door squeaks open, revealing his right hand man, Scar, waiting at the doorway.

His golden eyes glance at you, Ekko hides your equally disheveled form with his body, blocking your obviously kissed lips and your rumpled clothes. Scar raises a knowing brow, eyes speaking a thousand words.

“Hi, Y/N.” He says gruffly, lips subtly curled into a smirk. You wave shyly above Ekko, afraid that you'd let out incoherent words while you're still reeling from his warmth. “I can come back later.”

Ekko’s seriously considering it. “Is it important?”

“Everything's important with you Ekko.” Scar's eyes turn towards you with the word ‘important.’

Ekko sighs, slightly disappointed. “Right, what happened?”

His whole demeanor changes into what most people would think when they hear about the notorious leader of the firelights. His posture straightens up, and the air around him oozes authority. The man in front of you isn't just Ekko, your love and confidant, he's Ekko, the feared leader of the firelights, and the boy saviour. But you can still see his previous sweetness from how his eyes still smile when he remembers your soft lips upon his own. He's still your Ekko through and through.

“It's the chem barons, they blew out an entire building.” Scar briefs him, and you read the room as their conversation grows more serious.

If you listen to any more, you'd want to join in so you decide to leave before you could give your two cents like always. Ekko was right, your shoulder wouldn't help much with a full blown fight. So you're just gonna stay away, for now at least, until you're fully healed to be of help. For his sanity and your wellbeing.

You take a deep breath, still heaving from his kisses, hopping down from the table even with your wobbly legs. Ekko looks at you in the middle of the conversation, hand reaching out in case you fall down. Scar watches with amusement at the scene in front of him.

“I'm good,” you say quietly only for Ekko to hear. “We'll continue this later, okay?” You say louder this time for both of them to hear. With a wink, and a hand grazing his back, you leave him standing there, aghast at what you've blatantly said.

His own mind betrays him at how *later could go. Ekko has to hold onto the chair next to him to stabilize himself lest he melts in front of Scar, who's absolutely trying to reel his laughter in that he's about to pop a vein on his forehead from how hard he's trying.

As you close the door behind you, you hear his booming laughter and Ekko's unmistakable groaning behind the door.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

#request done #the kr8tor's creations #ekko x reader #ekko arcane #arcane ekko #arcane ekko x reader #ekko imagines #ekko fanfic #ekko fanfiction #ekko x you #ekko x fem! reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane x reader #ekko arcane x reader #ekko fluff #arcane fluff #x reader #fanfiction

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gguk-n · 28 days ago

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hey could you maybe write a lando x reader where when it was clear that lando lost the championship the reader just comforts him but he is distancing himself from her but she doesn’t give up on him so pls a happy end ❤️

established relationship, not very angsty, short

My World Champion

Things had been rough between the pair for a few months. With the mounting pressure on Lando to perform had left him pushing all those close to him away. He wasn't very happy with it but he felt like maybe he could focus better. The person who had to deal with the brunt of Lando's distance was his girlfriend, Y/N. They'd been together for a while and friends for longer. They just got each other like no other but lately Y/N felt like she didn't know Lando as well as she used to.

Y/N did try to bring up the distance. It was Azerbaijan, "Lan, don't you think we barely talk" Y/N spoke slowly, trying to start a conversation with her boyfriend who was sat across from her on the sofa. He didn't bother to even look up, "What's there to talk about when I'm busy trying to win a championship. Let me focus" he huffed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could spend some time together" Y/N trailed off. "We are sat together right now. How much more time do you want to spend with me?" Lando sighed and finally looked up from his laptop. "I just" she felt her voice die in her throat. 'I don't remember the last time we kissed Lan' her brain thought as she got up and left the room before another fight ensued.

It was during the winter break when things were starting to look up. Lando had just won the Singapore GP, he was more attentive and present; they even cuddled the whole day. Y/N thought that she had her boyfriend back. Oh how wrong she was because as soon as they were back on track; Lando was back to square one. The Austin loss hit deep, making Lando double down on strategising and spending every waking hour with the team or thinking about Formula One. It was like he forgot Y/N existed or for that matter himself. She would sit there and stare at her boyfriend who looked more and more like a stranger with each passing day.

Things had become rocky between them. She felt the divide growing with each passing weekend. Mexico wasn't any better. But Brazil landed a huge blow to Lando. He shut down, he stopped talking to anyone and spent all his time scrolling on his phone. There was nothing she could do without Lando walking out or shutting the door on her face. So, she sat and waited. She would cook his favourite food or leave out his favourite snacks to munch on. But she didn't make much break through on him; as he still chooses to stay reserved, opting to carry the burden alone.

It was after the Las Vegas quali, when Y/N noticed the light begin leave Lando's eyes. All she could offer were words and cuddles but Lando had put up a wall between them. The bed seemed too big for the two of them with either on each side. She stared at the space in between them wondering when it had gotten this big.

After the race, Y/N sighed a sigh of relief. The Championship battle was over and that meant she got her Lando back. She saw glimpses of him when he congratulated Max and couldn't wait to jump into his arms. But it was like Lando was back, just not for her.

That night, they spent it like any other, on either side of the bed. But as Y/N tried to fall asleep, she felt the bed shake. On further inspection, she saw Lando's frame quietly shaking from the sobs as he tried to not make any noise. Her heart hurt watching him, she slowly scooted over causing Lando to stop crying for a moment. She wrapped her arm around his torso and buried her head in his neck. "I love you, my world champion" she whispered causing Lando to turn around. His face was streaked with tears which she carefully wiped off. "I don't like it when you cry" she muttered and pecked his lips. "I thought you fell asleep" Lando mumbled. "Can't sleep without my cuddles" she quipped. "But, I'm not the world champion" was all he muttered, remembering her first comment. "For the world, no. For me, always" she smiled. Lando searched her eyes for anything, but all he found was undeterred love. "And you're not angry?" he asked. "No. I'm happy to watch you compete for the championship because I know, sooner or later you'll win it. Just waiting for that day" she reassured. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I was just" Lando spoke before she cut him off, "over whelmed. I know. But you didn't have to do it all alone. What am I here for?" she spoke tenderly. "I love you" he whispered kissing her for the first time in a long time. "I love you too, muppet" she whispered back. He looked at her for a long time as his hands pulled her closer, running along her frame; "What would I do without you?" he asked. "Crash and burn" she chided. "Agreed" he mumbled pulling her in for another kiss. "You alway know how to make me happy" he mumbled in between kisses. "Only when you listen to me. Otherwise you're Mr Grumpy" she chuckled. "I promise not to be Mr Grumpy anymore" he laughed kissing her again. "Next time I'm grumpy, kiss me. I think all my worries melt away with your kisses" he said pressing her against him. "So, the next time you start an argument, I'm gonna kiss you" she said cupping his cheeks. "Best way to end an argument" he smiled pressing their foreheads together. "I won't disagree" she kissed him again, making up for all the lost time.

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lavenderspence · 5 months ago

Text

A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations.

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

masterlist

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late.

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family.

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks.

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak.

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind.

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower.

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable.

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours.

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster.

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you.

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck.

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?”

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?”

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle.

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter.

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you.

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking.

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him.

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office.

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way.

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work.

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss.

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare.

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay.

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more.

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable.

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too.

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations.

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality.

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand.

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory.

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried, about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son.

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck.

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back.

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace.

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself.

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel.

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds.

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line.

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could.

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love.

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again.

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office.

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner request

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pathologicalreid · 9 months ago

Note

You write fluff and flangst absolutely amazingly and I’m in awe every dang time!

Buuut since you’ve got spring break coming up, a little fic idea that’s in my head that I’ll never do justice! (If you’re interested)

Fem!reader finding out an adorable way to tell Spencer she’s pregnant. I don’t care if they’re dating or married or what - but like she puts together a crossword, or a puzzle and he just doesn’t get it. (If you wanna throw angst in, he leaves without getting it for a case and then realizes it in the middle of the night.)

puzzling | S.R.

trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy and misc. symptoms., talk of fainting and blood tests. word count: 1.69k a/n: welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda! i hope this does your request justice and thank you for entrusting me with this idea!!!! <3

you

It was your pride and joy, the collection of folded papers that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a cup of coffee that you had already filled for him.

On your fake newspaper, you had created a custom crossword puzzle. With four very important clues.

Across: “Early stage of life”

Across: “American actress Frances _”

Down: “Must be finished by”

Down: “Veteran’s Day month”

You smiled softly to yourself as you heard Spencer’s footsteps coming down the staircase. Padding over to the kitchen counter, you sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in front of you.

Before he even looked at the newspaper, Spencer leaned over to kiss you good morning, “You look tired,” he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin as if he were investigating the dark circles underneath your eyes.

“Way to make a girl feel good about herself,” you teased lightly, even though you knew he was right. At least you felt tired.

He rolled his eyes, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Turning to grab his mug of coffee off of the counter, he observed you again, “Are you sure your doctor said nothing was wrong?”

Smiling, you gave him a brief nod. You had gone to see your doctor a few days ago for nausea and fatigue, and Spencer would’ve gone with you had he not been on the other side of the country on a case. “They’re running some tests, but they didn’t see anything blatantly wrong,” the doctor was running a few blood tests, checking your iron levels and HCG.

Using his free hand, Spencer reached over and moved a lock of hair out of your face, “They said your blood pressure was low?”

Low blood pressure, as it turned out, was a pregnancy symptom that was most common in the first trimester. “You’re freaking out over nothing, Spence,” you told him. Really, it was something. A rather large something – or small, depending on how you wanted to look at it. “Come on, it’s crossword time,” you told him, using the end of the pen to tap on the newspaper.

“I worry about you when I’m away. You do know that low blood pressure can cause syncope, right? Did they prescribe you anything for it?” He asked, ignoring your wishes to move on and do the crossword.

There was a small part of you that just wanted to tell him, but frankly, you had worked too hard on the crossword puzzle to give yourself away like that. You couldn’t tell him that they didn’t prescribe you anything because they didn’t know how far along you were. A larger part of you knew that if you just got him to work on the puzzle, he would have his answers in about seven minutes.

Then his phone rang, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and the Caller ID on the screen caused you to slump your shoulders forward. It was Garcia. “Hey Garcia,” he greeted on the phone, “at the tarmac?”

You set your head on the counter and sighed in defeat as Spencer hung up the phone.

“Are you alright?” He asked you softly, tenderly wrapping an arm around your torso.

Humming, you sat back up, ignoring the stars in your field of vision as you did so. “I’m fine, you should go,” you insisted.

Spencer shook his head, “No, you’re sick. I’ll call Garcia back and tell her I have to stay back.” Acting bewildered at the idea that he had been so remiss as to agree to do his job while you were unwell.

You reached out and set a hand on his, “It’s alright, love. I can take care of myself,” you reminded him. Besides the fact that you were wholly self-sufficient, the only reason why Spencer would be asked to meet the team at the tarmac was if they were headed toward a particularly gnarly case – they needed all hands on deck.

“Promise me you’ll check in? Call your mom if you need any help, please,” he requested, pleading eyes following you as you got up to hug him.

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, “You should take the crossword with you.” Pulling away, you haphazardly refolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

Furrowing his brow, Spencer inspected the paper that you had given him. “We always do the crossword together on Saturdays,” he found you incredibly helpful on the pop culture clues. “We could save this one and then have two for next week,” he offered.

God. No. Your eyes widened at the idea of having to keep your secret for another week, shaking your head, you shrugged, “No, you should take it. It’ll make me look forward to next week even more,” you insisted.

He folded, and with a sweet kiss to the forehead, he was off to go save lives, remaining entirely unaware of the one growing inside of you.

him

The judgmental Italian behind him was proving to be a distraction, “Did you find something?” Spencer asked, eyeing the evidence board with frustration. Something bugged him about the case, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

“Not right now, but it’s three in the morning,” Rossi said, joining Spencer by the evidence board. “Why don’t you give that big brain of yours a break?”

Shaking his head, Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I tried. I can’t stop thinking about the case.” Men were popping up dead in a small Missouri town at an alarming rate, and he felt so close to a breakthrough.

Dave nodded like he understood the feeling, that was probably why he had emerged from his hotel room so early, returning to the precinct before the sun peeked over the horizon. “What do you usually do to wind your brain down?”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “Crossword puzzles,” he admitted, any word puzzle would do the trick.

The chuckle from the older man next to him startled Spencer, “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rossi looked around the precinct, “I’m sure we can find one around here somewhere.”

“No,” Spencer said, “I have one in my bag, actually.” He refrained from including the detail that you had given him the crossword puzzle, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

Clapping him on the back, Rossi lifted his coffee cup, “Then I suggest you go take the thirty seconds to fill out that puzzle and then get some rest.”

Once he was back in his hotel room, he changed before pulling out the pile of papers that you had sent him off with. Sitting on top of the bed, he filled out the puzzle in approximately six minutes and forty-three seconds. Once the letters were filled in, he skimmed the puzzle – just to check it over.

The only one that might’ve given him trouble was about an American actress – usually he had you to help him with pop culture, but he recalled having the same last name as an actress in Days of Our Lives.

It was interesting that the words “Baby” and “Reid” were right next to each other.

Wait.

Quickly, he calculated the odds that the words “Baby” “Reid” “Due” and “November” were all in the puzzle and when the numbers were put together, they made your anniversary. Spencer just as quickly called you, listening to the phone ringing.

His heart was racing as he waited to see if you answered the phone. “Hey,” your groggy voice came through the receiver.

“Where did you get this crossword puzzle?” He asked you, flipping through the rest of the newspaper for the first time.

You hummed softly, “You’re doing it right now?”

Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t even think about the time,” it was just past four in the morning now, making it just past five in the morning in Virginia. “I just thought that…” his voice trailed off. What if it was just a coincidence?

There was silence on your end of the call, and he wondered if you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t been feeling well, and he’d woken you up with his phone call. “You thought what, Spence?”

The teasing lilt in your voice had given you away to him immediately. He knew. Every one of his suspicions were confirmed, “Y/N Reid,” he breathed.

“Spencer Reid,” you countered.

He took a deep breath, “Are you pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you answered simply, with about as much enthusiasm as he expected from you at five in the morning.

It all started to make sense to him. The low blood pressure, the drowsiness, and even the slight caginess when it came to him asking about your doctor’s visit. He swiped away a few stray tears, “I don’t know what to say.” It wasn’t a feeling he was overly used to.

You cleared your throat, “Are you happy?” Nerves clouded your voice, and he could hear you becoming more awake – more alert.

“I am,” he searched aimlessly. Elated. Thrilled. Ecstatic. “I’m so happy,” he told you, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say, I just… God, are you okay?” Dread washed over him, you were alone, sick, and pregnant at home and he was halfway across the country.

Sighing, he heard a ruffling on the other end of the call. “I’m great. I’m exhausted, I had no idea being pregnant was so tiring. I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know.” You sighed again, “I’m not making any sense.”

He laughed lightly at your rambling, “You’re making perfect sense. Chances are your energy will return during the second trimester.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.” You paused again for just a moment, “I’m sorry if I scared you. With the whole doctor’s appointment thing. They really are keeping an eye on my blood pressure and whole slew of other things, but they know the root cause.”

A giddy smile grew on his face, “It’s because you’re pregnant.”

A soft hum came through the phone, “It’s because I’m pregnant,” you concurred.

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rafeskai · 1 month ago

Text

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Coming soon! Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

Bonus Chapter - Texts from Rafe

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction

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hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

Note

Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.

Movie Night

I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.

wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)

Stupid Steve. Stupid school. Stupid fucking stereotypes.

You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about.

But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.

So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.

When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.

And that sets your fate.

Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine.

It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.

You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.

Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again.

You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.

And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.

You’re fine.

“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.”

“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.

“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this.

“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside.

You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility.

Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.

Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.

After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.

He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.

He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside?

You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.

Billy Hargrove.

Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.

“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.

“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.

“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.

“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.”

“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.

“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.

“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.”

Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed.

It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.

“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.

“Why were you crying?”

“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.

“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.

“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.

“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”

He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.

“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.

“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.

“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.

“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.

“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.

“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.

“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.

“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.

“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.

You didn’t need more reminders.

So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.

Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.

You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.

“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.

“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house.

“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.

“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”

A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.

Yet–

“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?”

“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.

“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.

“You’re in for a ride.”

Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.

“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you.

“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.

“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.

“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.

So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.

“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?”

“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.

News flash, you didn’t like it.

“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.

“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”

You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness.

“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.

“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.”

“What?”

“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.

“Billy–”

“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest.

“Well, I am glad I could help in some way… My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.

“Can I kiss you?”

What?

There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you.

“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.

“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.

“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.”

You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.

His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?

The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him.

He wants to take care of you.

He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.

“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.”

He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.

The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself.

Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.

The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–

“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.

“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.

“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.

“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.

“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.

“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!”

“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.

“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.

“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.

“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.

“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.

“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”

“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.

“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.

“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.

“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body.

“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.

He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party.

This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’

He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day.

He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can.

So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you.

Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.

But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.

“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.

“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left.

While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense.

You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real.

So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.

His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.

“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.

“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs.

“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.

“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.

“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.

“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.

“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.

“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.

“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat.

“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.”

Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.

“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.

“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.

“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another.

“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.

“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.

“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.

“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.

“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.

“My turn.”

A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.

8K notes · View notes

distantdarlings · 3 months ago

Text

LET ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theodore Nott has been harassing you ever since he found out you had a crush on him. Now, you’ve been paired together for a project for McGonagall’s class and he has nothing good in mind.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V), unprotected, sub!reader, Dom!Theo, slightly rough!dom!Theo, marking kink, slight size kink, bulge kink, brief dumbification, brief spit kink, reader wearing a skirt, light enemies to lovers, language, one (1) slap, name-calling, praise kink, slight degradation, public sex, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), Theo is persistent, not proof read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Echo - XANU

- - -

Merlin, forgive whatever you had done to deserve the treatment you were currently receiving.

You thought back on every negative deed you’d done in the last year and still hadn’t found anything worthy of your horrendous luck.

The arrogant boy turned to stare you down, malicious intent etched into the unfortunately gorgeous features of his face.

You could feel your face contort into an expression of horror as you tore your eyes away from him and turned to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, I—” you started.

“All partner decisions are final—no exceptions!” McGonagall finished, as if trying to answer the question you had before you could even voice it.

You deflated into your seat, your mood dropping like a brick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have guessed the entire class was staring at you. The entire student body of Hogwarts knew how you felt about your new Transfiguration project partner, Theodore Nott. The bastard…

You glanced back up—arms crossed and lips pouted—just to find the boy still staring you down, evil smirk painted on his lips. He gave you a sardonic wave, wiggling his fingers tauntingly.

“Fuck,” you sighed, pressing an exasperated fist to your forehead.

Your knee anxiously bobbed beneath the desk, the heel of your uniform shoe beating against the floor in a flurried rhythm.

Luna Lovegood, your best friend, was sitting directly next to you. Intuitive as she always was, you knew she could feel the pure panic radiating off of you. Her hand rested on your shoulder in a small motion of comfort, but nothing could calm you now. You were utterly screwed.

McGonagall finished off the rest of her speech on the instructions for her project, then dismissed the whole class. Luna helped you to gather your things together as you struggled to force yourself to move.

Maybe you’d pissed McGonagall off? Merlin, what had you done to deserve this? You asked yourself the same questions over and over again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed Theodore flouncing over to you with an unnerving glint in your eyes.

“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest man on earth?” he said snidely.

“Fuck off, Theo,” you growled, intentionally not making eye contact with him.

You made to pick up your books and slide them into your bag, when he slammed his hand down on the cover of one of them, pressing them down against the desk. He pinned your fingers beneath them against the wood—just enough to keep them sturdy, but light enough so that it didn’t hurt you.

“Stop!” You yanked your fingers out from beneath the books, the heavy leather smacking against the table with a thud. Now, you made eye contact with him.

“What are we going to do our project on, baby?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that!” You yanked your books out from underneath his strong hold and shoved them quickly into your bag. “We can discuss it in the library after class.”

“I’m looking forward to it—I’ll be sure we get a quiet corner, you know…,” he stepped closer to you, “…so I can explore every inch of…the subject.”

You sneered in disgust and pulled away from him, his voice still rattling in your ears.

“You’re disgusting,” you scoffed. “I’ll see you later for nothing more than our assignment.”

“Looking forward to it…can’t wait to put those big brains to use. Lovegood.” He nodded politely to Luna before heading off.

You glanced at Luna and acknowledged her slight smile. Everything in you was telling you to snap at her and tell her not to encourage any of the delinquent boy’s behavior, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever be very mad at Luna Lovegood. At least, not for long.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and took off toward the door, bag swinging between your shoulder blades.

“Wait up, friend!” Luna shouted lightly, running to catch up with you. You snorted and laughed at her, letting her sunlight hair fall into step beside you.

- - -

By the time your last class of the day dismissed and the sun had begun to sink beneath the Hogwarts skyline, you were soaked through with nerves. The saturation of your anxiety had managed to breach every protective barrier you held up, and fill your hands with shudders and your stomach with nausea.

The root of your nerves when it came to Theo came from the consistent comments he insisted on making toward you. It seemed that he loved nothing more than dropping sexual hints into your ear every few days just to watch you squirm. He’d only started this after he’d heard through the grapevine you had a bit of a thing for him.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, and that his words had absolutely no effect on you, but you couldn’t deny that he was just as annoying as he was charming.

It had gotten to a point when he made those comments that he loved to joke aloud about your reactions to him, effectively embarrassing you in front of all of your peers. That was your final straw. All resemblance of an attraction toward Theo had melted away and been replaced by hatred.

And yet, as your feet led you to the grand library, you couldn’t stop the rapid pattering of your heart beat. Something about the boy had always been so…irresistible to you. Whether it was the way he always knew where to place his hands when he “accidentally” brushed you, or how he knew exactly what to say when he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. You figured you should be grossed out and tell him to get away from you, but, unfortunately, you kind of liked it when he did those things.

As you came up to one of the several library doors lining the wall before you, you decided to try and swallow your nerves and focus only on the project. That was what you were supposed to do anyway—this wasn’t a date.

You pulled one of the doors open and slipped into the warmly-lit room. It always seemed to be just a tad bit cozier here than anywhere else in the castle—whether that was from the multiple fireplaces or the sweet aroma that floated through the air. Either way, you loved it.

Your neck craned as you glanced about, trying to glimpse the cocky boy, but to no avail. Wherever he was, he surely wasn’t interested in making it easy on you to find him.

A sigh left you as you started toward the back of the library where a couple tables rested behind a few conveniently placed bookcases. Unfortunately, the feeling in your stomach told you that he surely would be sitting at one of those tables, simply because you knew how his dirty, little mind worked.

That corner of the library was…infamous for its concealed nature. Everyone in Hogwarts had heard the little rumors that fluttered about, of couples getting a bit too friendly with each other while the librarian was downstairs.

Because of those rumors, it had garnered a reputation. And if someone who had a penchant for gossip slipped past you and Theodore Nott studying back there, you’d be screwed.

Once you passed the last book case, zigzagging between the three that formed the perfect labyrinth, you came upon Theo comfortably waiting at the table in the middle. A groan of defeat left you and your head dipped back. You stared at the ceiling for a few moments while contemplating your options—you could still run away.

“Hello, beautiful,” Theo said, leaning his chin down on his propped up fists. “I’ve been waiting so impatiently for you.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. You crossed over to the table and sat across from him—the farthest away you could get. Your bag collapsed to the ground and unzipped itself on the way down. The things you needed for this assignment floated out and landed neatly on the table before you, including a few rolls of parchment, a quill and ink, and your books.

He marveled silently, seemingly trying to hide his fascination at your wandless magic. Perhaps if he studied as hard as you did, he would also be able to achieve it.

“Alright, shall we do this?” you asked, maintaining a bored expression.

“I’d love to,” he smirked. “But I’d love to showcase a bit of my magic as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“What—?” Your voice was cut off with a slight gasp as all four legs of your chair lifted off of the ground. Your fingers wrapped around the sides of your seat to keep you from slipping off.

Theo’s eyes followed your chair as it floated over the table and all the way beside him. Once your shoulders were inches from his, your chair dropped a few centimeters to the ground. A small yelp came from you as you regained your balance and glared at him. Perhaps he was a better wizard than you thought.

“What the hell, Theo?” you demanded, immediately scooting your chair away from him, putting a good few inches between you.

“I just thought we’d be able to work better closer together,” he purred, his arm dropping against the table to cage you against him and the bookshelf a bit to your left. You eased away from him so you were closer to the shelves than you were to him. His eyes never dropped from yours. “Merlin, what is that smell? You smell absolutely divine—”

“Okay, let’s just get this done,” you interrupted him, pushing his approaching body back away from you.

“Mm, alright,” he smiled. “Have you decided on a topic you’re interested in presenting on?”

“Actually, I have.” You pulled your books across the table over to where the two of you were sitting, flipping everything to the appropriate page. There were a couple pages in your notebook where you’d jotted some ideas down earlier today, and you’d figured he’d want to see the different ideas, as it was his grade, as well. “So, I threw a couple of ideas together in my fourth period. We can see what you think of them…”

As you explained the details of all of your ideas, it became increasingly obvious that Theo was not at all interested in what you had to say about the project. Though you refused to look directly at him, the corner of your eyes granted more than enough knowledge.

Theo’s eyes were ravenous as they drew down your body, curving across the most private areas of your curves with no shame. You could feel your cheeks burning, but hoped the warm tones from the candles around you would conceal that.

When he scooted a bit closer to you, you kept talking. And when he laid his arm across the back of your chair, you kept talking. And when his fingers began to toy with the ends of your hair, you kept talking. But when he took your quill gently from your fingers and set it down on the table, you finally stopped. You barely made eye contact with him, constantly glancing away and down to the table. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

His fingers pulled away from your hair and dropped to your shoulder. They squeezed the hard muscles a few times.

“God, you seem tense,” he spoke lowly, his voice barely above a whisper. His other hand reached up and matched the opposite’s position on your other shoulder.

When he placed a gentle amount of pressure, it expressed a small sigh from your lips. He was right. You were very tense—in general, but especially around him.

“Here, let me…,” he stood and appeared behind you rather quickly.

“Theo, I don’t think this is appropriate. I’d really just—” Your voice cut off as soon as he began to roll your taut muscles beneath his nimble fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, pleasurable jolts of pain shocking across your neck and down your back.

“That’s okay, baby,” he whispered, dangerously close to your ear. “Finish telling me about your idea. I’ll just loosen some things up back here. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He pressed an especially hard drive against your skin. You bit back a moan at the sensation. You don’t think you’d ever had a better massage in your life.

You wanted to tell him to stop, but it felt so fucking good. And you really were sore around your neck and shoulders.

“Theo?” you tried again.

“Read.” His voice had a commanding tone to it. One hand released your shoulder briefly to grab your books and slide them closer to you, before returning to its position against your skin.

His hands worked their way up around your jaw, cupping it gently, so he could press his thumbs against the back of your neck. You audibly sighed this time without intending to. Embarrassed, you attempted to cover it up with a clear of your throat.

You began to explain the rest of your project plan, small shudders rippling through your voice every time he’d hit an especially sore spot.

By the time he finished and pulled his hands away from you, your body was mourning the loss of him but relishing in the relief it felt. It honestly hadn’t felt far off from a professional massage.

“How’s that?” He walked around to your side, still not sitting back down.

“Er, good,” you chuckled nervously, rubbing your hand along the back of your neck, trying to spread the relief around.

“Perfect,” he smiled, gently swiping his index finger beneath your chin. He sat back down beside you.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

“About what?”

“The project idea…”

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s wonderful,” he said, shrugging a bit. “I think we can work with it.”

“Theo, did you even listen?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Of course, I did,” he chuckled. “It’s just not easy to focus when you have such a gorgeous partner.”

There went your cheeks getting insanely hot again. He thought you were gorgeous? There was no way. Someone must have put him up to this, right? Or he was fucking with you because he knew you had had a bit of a crush on him.

“I—er…” you stuttered hopelessly, pulling your eyes away from his.

He placed a hand on your knee. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your tights. The heartbeat in your ears picked up wildly.

“Don’t be nervous around me.”

“What?” you laughed suddenly. “I’m not nervous, I’m just—you’re just really…friendly? I don’t know. Why are you pretending to be so interested in me? Did someone put you up to it?”

“Why would someone have put me up to flirting with you?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Because they know I had a thing for you,” you blurted before thinking. “I mean—”

“Nope! Can’t take it back now, my love.” Theo chuckled, an evil smirk printing across his lips. “And, for the record, no one put me up to flirting with you. I just want to.”

His hand slid up to the top of your knee as he leaned a bit forward.

“Theo!” you hissed. “We’re in the library—you can’t do that.” Though you verbally protested his actions, you couldn’t deny the heat building in your stomach at his touch.

Despite the conviction you had for needing to decline him and all of his advances, you couldn’t seem to suppress the need you felt for him right now—a different kind. His eyes remained on yours and refused to look away.

The two of you were in the library, and had seemed to despise each other’s company only minutes earlier, but for some reason, you couldn’t force yourself to stop his rising hand.

Soon, his fingers were toying with the edge of your skirt and his lips were millimeters from your own. You could feel his gentle breath against your cheeks.

“Theo…,” you shuddered at his proximity. His thumb slid slowly down the side of your thigh, the contact eliciting chills along your legs.

“You’ve wanted me for months,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Are you finally going to let me fuck you?”

You gasped slightly as the tip of his thumb just barely brushed your core through your panties.

“Say yes, or I’m not going to touch you anymore.”

As if on cue, his hands pulled back from you and his mouth seemed to hover a few inches away. The cold air hit the spot his hand had been occupying on your thigh and sent a row of shivers up your spine.

“I don’t understand. Is this a joke?” you shuddered.

He shook his head slowly. “Not a joke, I just want you. Say yes, baby.”

“Y—” before you were even able to get the singular syllable out, his lips were pressing against yours and devouring them like a predator.

His hand found its place against your thigh again, the other hand following suit on the other one. He pushed them up the expanse of your skin, inching your skirts up in the process.

You moaned against his lips in embarrassment at the sudden loss of dignity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he sighed against your mouth. “Let me taste you.” He pressed his lips roughly back to yours.

You gasped for air and pulled away, noses brushing against the other. “Say please,” you managed to choke out.”

“What?”

“Say please,” you repeated. “What, did you think I was going to come here and just give you whatever you wanted?”

“Oh, that’s how you’re going to be?” he smirked. You stared back astutely, not yielding to any teasing he tried to give.

“Alright, baby,” he conceded. He pulled himself closer to you and worked his way up your neck and to your ear, pressing chaste kisses against your flesh. “Please let me taste this sweet cunt. ‘ve been dreaming about it for months.”

You shivered at his words before nodding. You weren’t in your right mind—you couldn’t be.

He slid out of his chair and dropped to his knees. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked you to the edge of the seat. His fingers pushed your skirt up around your hips and angled you up toward his face, pulling your legs over each of his shoulders.

The cool air flushed against the hot wetness slathered across your thighs. But the shock of wintry air was canceled out quickly by Theo’s hot mouth placing against your clothed core.

Your head fell back against the chair as your hands flew to his honeyed curls.

He swirled his lips across you, gathering your lust on his tongue. Each time you let a little moan slip, he’d echo you with his own louder one. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard anywhere else in the library, but it was enough to vibrate against you and send your head spinning.

The second your thighs began to shake on either side of his sharp jaw, he pulled away from you, leaving you bare and wanting.

“Turn around,” he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Obstinately, you held your chin up and refused to obey him. You wanted to appear strong and resistant as payment for how much of a dick he’d been to you, but with your quivering lips and legs still spread wide for him, you figured you didn’t quite get the point across.

He suddenly grabbed your jaw in one hand, while undoing his belt buckle with the other. Anticipation boiled in your belly.

“Turn around,” he said before suddenly and mockingly tilting his head to the side. “Or do you not understand what’s good for you?”

When you said nothing, he pulled you out of the chair and bent you over the library table. You yelped as your chest collided with the table.

Once on your stomach, he flipped your skirt over against your back and ripped your panties and stockings down your legs until the soaked things were stuck around your ankles.

Then, without another warning, he was sliding into you and stretching you wide. You gasped aloud and gripped at the smooth table, begging to find purchase on anything.

He moaned slightly at the way you clenched around him. He pushed himself into you a little more with each slow thrust, the movement splitting you down the middle. His hands held you tightly in place by your hips, pinning you down against the table.

“Shit, you feel fucking perfect,” he moaned, fingers gripping into your flesh.

Every alarm bell was ringing in your head, telling you to separate and cover yourselves, because you were in public. But, for some reason, you found yourself loving the thrill of possibly being walked in on; of possibly being found with Theodore Nott buried deep inside of you, taking his pleasure from your body.

By the time he’d finally bottomed out inside of you, he was panting and willing himself not to come prematurely.

“I’ve never felt anything this tight,” he groaned.

You hadn’t been able to see the size of him before he started pushing into you, but you had to guess he was the biggest you’d ever felt. Just having his hips pressed to your ass felt like the tip of him was brushing your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, wait,” he said, panting heavily. He rubbed your back as he slowly pulled all the way out of you and stood you up. He turned you around to face him and laid your back against the table.

He brought your legs around him and you hooked them together behind his back. You watched him with deep admiration as his fingers stroked up and down your legs, preparing to explain what he wanted.

“I want to watch me fill you up,” he whispered, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. It was sweet and thick with saliva but, despite everything else he’d done so far, this set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

His hands came away from your legs and wrapped around your waist. He watched addictively as his fingers curled entirely around your body, his large hands positively dwarfing your small frame. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes fill with an inky, black glint as he brought his hips to the underside of your thighs.

He placed his dick on your stomach, reveling in how far up your stomach it went. He moaned at the sight and pulled your right leg up and over his shoulder. He pressed a small kiss to the side of your calf.

“Theo,” you whined, still reeling from the loss of him inside of you. “Please, no more teasing.”

“Be patient, baby,” he whispered against your leg. “I want to remember this moment.”

“Theo,” you urged once more. But his hand came down hard against the outer side of your thigh. You yelped at the pain that radiated down the side of your leg.

“I said to be patient.” He soothed the pain gently with his fingers, still looking down at how big he looked compared to you.

One of the things he’d always had on you was height. No matter if the things he said were stupid and undermining, you couldn’t deny that his size was enough to have the high ground.

“Look, we don’t have all the time in the world,” you sighed, leaning up on your elbows to speak with him. “The librarian could walk in here at any—”

He pushed back into you, choking any other words in your throat. You gasped and fell back against the wooden table, the cold lacquer biting into your flesh.

“Fuck,” Theo all but whined. He pressed his fingers against your lower abdomen where his dick had created a perfect impression. Every time he pulled out then pushed back in, his sheer size forced the body wall up and simultaneously probed a spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling backward.

Without wasting another second, he picked up his pace while dropping his hands down to your still-tucked in uniform shirt. He ripped the material out from beneath the waistband of your skirt, and ripped the buttons apart.

The candles floating overhead illuminated the curves and dips of your stomach, highlighting the valley of your breasts.

Hips still pistoning into you, and left hand holding your waist still, his right hand reached forward again and ripped the clip of your bra apart. Luckily, you’d worn the front access one today.

At the force of the destruction, your breasts fell apart from one another, bouncing against your dampened chest.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Gonna mark this beautiful body. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. My girl.”

His words sent shockwaves through your system. You tried to reach for him but you couldn’t reach. Your arms fell back down against the table, your lack of anything to hold on to leaving you completely at the mercy of the pace he decided to set.

“T-Theo,” you stuttered, your voice breaking beneath the weight of his abuse.

He leaned down, pushing himself all the way into you for a moment, and latched his lips around a mouthful of your left breast. He sucked roughly on the flesh, pulling the blood to the surface. You whined through the pain that mingled with the pleasure from him below.

Once he was satisfied with the bruise painted on you, he moved toward your neck, sucking and biting just as rough, hips never halting.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Tell me how it feels.” He nibbled on your earlobe.

You said nothing, your lips unable to form enough to make any words come out. Your fingers still gripped uselessly at the sides of the table. One leg was held uselessly over Theo’s shoulder while the other dangled limply over the edge of the table.

He leaned up. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Still, you made no sound.

“Oh, you pathetic thing,” he whispered, lips pressing to your elevated leg once again. “Am I fucking you stupid? Is that what it is? Yeah, baby? Next time, I’ll shove this dick down your throat and see how quiet you are then, you dumb slut.”

Now, within the final moments before your finish, his thumb dropped to your clit and began to rub small circles into the nerves. Your mouth fell open and your back arched to the ceiling as his hips intensified. They forced your finish closer and closer until you were spilling all over him, coating your legs and his stomach.

At the clenching of your core, his release was barreling forward, as well. He came with a long groan and a slow walk down of the brutal pace he’d set with his hips. His spend, mixed with yours, dripped down your legs.

Finally, with him still inside of you, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. He eyed you sweetly, caressing soothing lines across your temple with his thumb.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” he whispered against your lips. “Has anyone else ever fucked you so well?” There was that cocky Theo again.

“Maybe like one other person,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your jaw again and forcing you to look directly at him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you said. “I think I forgot his name. I’ll probably just forget yours tomorrow, too.” You teased him meanly, smirk building on your lips. This was further payback for all the months of harassment you’d dealt with from him.

He pinched your cheeks together until your lips were pushed open.

“You can forget my name, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly, “but you’ll never forget what I just did to this body.”

His eyes watched yours with an intensity like no other. Then his lips pursed, and you watched as a line of spit dropped into your waiting mouth. It was the ultimate display of humiliation, but also ownership. You belonged to Theo, now.

And even if you forced yourself to forget his name or this day in the library, you’d never wipe the taste of his claim out of your mouth.

“Now, let’s get to work on that attitude, shall we?” Theo asked, voice suddenly chipper again.

He pulled out of you and zipped his pants back up, before selecting his bag off of the chair—which you’d now noticed he hadn’t even unpacked.

“Tomorrow at 6?” he asked.

Then he Disapparated, leaving you entirely exposed and alone.

That son of a bitch.

- - -

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