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thargelalia · 4 months ago

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Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?”

“Yes.”

“…is it something I did?”

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?”

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face.

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood.

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side.

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM.

A five hour nap. Nice.

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen.

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.”

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him.

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful.

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice.

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter.

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home.

Isn’t that so cute?

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy.

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.”

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.”

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely.

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow.

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes. “You think I only read fiction?”

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?”

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?”

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital.

Two, he knows you worry about his safety.

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home.

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other.

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth.

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.”

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.”

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder.

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.”

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement.

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy.

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments.

Especially not to the most precious person of his life.

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging.

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul.

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out.

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt.

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace.

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?”

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…”

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.”

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.”

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.”

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.”

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.”

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.”

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well.

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner.

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly.

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

#this is totally self-indulgent btw #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc fanfic #jason todd x y/n #dc imagine #red hood fanfiction #jason todd loves his gf #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfiction

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fayes-fics · 11 months ago

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To Know You…

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict knows you better than anyone. But does he know himself well enough to know what he truly wants?

Warnings: none really… fluffy fluff. Childhood friends, class differences, marriage mart shenanigans, dancing, marriage proposals, Benedict being adorable while also a complete dumbass, unrequited to requited love, love confessions.

Word Count: 10.4k (yeah, it's a long one, folks)

Authors Note: this is a request fill for @curlsincriminology (ask HERE) about Benedict showing you all the wonderful things he sees in you, but will he figure out his own feelings before it's too late? Thanks to the complete trooper @colettebronte for beta reading this monster one-shot. Enjoy <3

I: To Know You….

“I would rather not, Miss y/l/n,” the young man clips, walking away from you at a brusque pace.

You sigh and look down at your feet. Mrs Parsons will be so very disappointed, is all you can think.

—

Benedict may not have heard the words spoken, but even from his vantage point at the other end of the ballroom, he could see the disdainful way the young man uttered his parting words to you. It makes anger flare hot in his chest, his fist forming reflexively at his side.

He watches as you look down, shoulders hunching, folding in on yourself physically, as if the rejection for a dance has manifested in a body blow. He feels a pang in his gut—of sympathy, indignance on your behalf and mainly at the injustice of it all. To him, you are a wonderful, intelligent, caring person worthy of a good match. Still, the circumstances of your upbringing seem to stymie your attempts to join so-called ‘polite’ society at every turn…

—

You look up with a defeated mien until your eyes land on one person who has always been able to ameliorate any of your more morose moods—Benedict Bridgerton. Instantly, you feel lighter. You give him a polite nod across the crowded room, and, to your delight, he returns it, a hint of a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. It is just so very characteristic of him to offer silent support, to understand, from witnessing a moment of interaction, precisely what you are feeling. A large part of you feels so wistful that there is no other man quite as nice as him. Suddenly, your overwhelming need is to leave this stuffy ballroom and catch some air.

You grew up under the tutelage of the kindly doctor’s widow, Mrs Parsons, whose house is not far from the vast Bridgerton estate in Kent. The naturally born daughter of nobody quite knows whom, you were taken in as her ward when you were abandoned upon her doorstep at a mere two years old. Her reputation for kindness towards young waifs and strays is likely why you were left there. It is an event you were too young to recall, so all you have known your whole life is her generosity and kindness, raising you as if her own.

And now that you are of age, she takes you to events around Kent in the hopes of securing you a respectable husband, the most prestigious being tonight’s Hearts and Flowers Ball at Aubrey Hall. The Bridgertons have always been gracious enough to invite local families, those without the means to partake in the London season, to events at their country estate—a kindness that allows for your attendance tonight. It’s just such a pity that the one bachelor Mrs Parsons was so very keen for you to meet, one Mr Reeves, just rebuffed you so thoroughly.

You glance down at the remaining empty slots on the dance card tied to your wrist and sigh again. Now that you are out on the terrace in the fresh evening air, the light breeze is at least a partial balm, allowing you to recover from the sting of rejection away from the hubbub of the ballroom.

“I will never understand how the men of this county can consider themselves anything approaching mannered.”

You would know that refined voice anywhere. It haunts your dreams. Just the sound of it making your ribs tighten. You turn to see Benedict sauntering towards you, two drinks in hand, that sympathetic smile still in place.

“You are far better off without such rudeness,” he adds dryly as he pulls up beside you, arching an eyebrow for your entertainment.

“You are far too kind, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer, taking the glass he offers with a meek smile, trying not to let your ardent admiration for him be too evident.

“Mr Bridgerton?!?” he scoffs, “What happened to BenBen?” he teases gently, recalling your childhood name for him when you were a mere four and he was nine.

“We are at a formal event; I should address you as such, should I not?” you reply playfully, a warmth spreading inside as it always does when you get the chance to have a witty, convivial exchange with him.

By gosh, if there is one man to whom you would pledge yourself without hesitation, it is him. But, of course, he is the second son of an illustrious family. To think you would have any chance to win his heart would be as likely as a future king to marry a commoner. Still, you can dream…

“At least call me Benedict, Skylark,” he winks over his wine glass as he takes a sip, butterflies erupting in your tummy at the affectionate nickname he has used since you were small; you have to avert your eyes to avoid blushing deeply.

Just as he goes to speak again, his brother, the Viscount, materialises at his side. Looking to all intents and purposes as if he is trying to escape the ball as much as you are.

“Mother is best avoided tonight, brother,” Anthony warns sagely, taking a large gulp of his champagne. “She is under the erroneous impression I am suddenly in want of a wife.”

You can't stop the giggle that bubbles up from within at his wry observation of his predicament.

“Hello, y/n,” he greets warmly, just noticing you are also there, his face morphing into a youthful, playful grin. If Benedict is the husband you have always dreamed of, Anthony is the elder brother you have always yearned for. In fact, that is always how he has treated you, akin to Eloise and Daphne, who you grew up playing with, being of similar age.

“Hello, Anthony,” you chime back. “How was the hunt earlier? Did the infamous Bridgerton brothers kill another prized stag?” you inquire, keen to engage both of them for as long as they will entertain you. Just being around them always lifts your spirits to no end.

—

Benedict observes you as you listen intently to Anthony’s recounting of the hunt earlier that day, impressed by your resilience. He has no doubts any other woman would feign an attack of the vapours had a man rejected her so harshly. But here you are, politely listening to his brother’s boasting, even though he can tell you are hurting inside.

Perhaps it helps that your snub went primarily unnoticed. You are unknown to the Ton; any witnesses likely dismissing it as the business of ‘country folk’ unworthy of note. Which, frankly, he could scoff at, seeing as he holds you in higher regard than all of the other attendees combined.

“How about you?” Anthony ends his story with a question to you, interrupting Benedict’s train of thought. “How has your experience been at our fine event this evening?”

“Oh, the house is splendidly decorated and the music wonderful,” you obfuscate behind flattery. Anthony appears to buy it, but Benedict sees behind your facade, the flame behind your usually bright gaze dimming a little, making something ache in his gut to see it.

Damn that idiot for ruining your evening! This just won’t do…

—

You can feel Benedict’s eyes upon you as you respond abstractly to Anthony.

“Y/n here is too polite to say it, but she was treated harshly by that young Reeves chap from Tenterden,” Benedict edifies as you bow your head, embarrassed. “Let’s be sure to rescind his invitation to future events, brother,” he appends with a surly tone.

“Duly noted,” Anthony nods sincerely, a brush of confusion flitting over his face regarding his brother's vehemence.

“No, there is no need…” you begin to protest weakly but halt mid-sentence under the intensity of Benedict’s gaze.

“I bore witness. Believe me, He shall not darken our door again,” he states firmly.

It appears the matter is very much decided, and you don’t want to put up much of a fight, seeing as it ultimately benefits you. You do, however, want to bathe in the warm glow inside whenever Benedict defends you. It's wonderful to have someone looking out for you, especially one so handsome and kind.

—

Two days later, you are taking afternoon tea with Mrs Parsons at the local tea shop when Benedict breezes in, looking so majestic dressed in Bridgerton blues that you grind to a halt. Luckily, he has not seen you as he makes a beeline for the counter.

“‘Tis rude to stare, my dear,” Mrs Parsons lectures sotto voce, nodding to your teacup, frozen in mid-air.

You shake your head a touch and place said item back in your saucer as she turns briefly to look at what or who caught your attention. Then she reaches out, her lace-gloved hand gently patting yours.

“It would be prudent to set your sights a little more realistic…” she advises with a sympathetic air. “Not that I fault your choice,” she adds, so quietly at first you're not sure you heard her correctly, but there is a tiny playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Your mouth falls open fractionally, and you stare as she shrugs. “I may be old, my dear, but I am not blind.”

Well, I never, Mrs Parsons!

As you take a bite of food, Benedict twists around from speaking to the proprietor, and he sees you. There’s a jolt down your spine as he breaks into a huge smile that claims his whole face. And you almost choke on scone crumbs as he makes a beeline over to you rather than the exit.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n, Mrs Parsons!” he greets effusively. “Would it be terribly impolite to ask to join you briefly?”

Mrs Parsons' face is a picture of surprise. “Not at all; the pleasure is ours, Mr Bridgerton,” she responds affably, gesturing to the spare chair at your small round table.

As Benedict sits, Mrs Parsons shoots you an incredulous look. It's your turn to shrug fractionally.

“Mrs Parsons, I feel it necessary to tell you Mr Reeves was excessively rude to Miss y/l/n here at the ball, and I wanted to assure you that he will not be welcome at Aubrey Hall again,” he divulges sincerely.

Mrs Parsons looks taken aback and turns to you. “Why did you not tell me, my dear?”

“I-I did not think it necessary…” you twist your mouth into a bashful pout, biting your lip.

“Mr Bridgerton, thank you for bringing this to my attention, and I thank you for your generous offer, but that sort of action does not seem warranted,” she replies accommodatingly.

“That is what I said…” “That is what she said…”

You and Benedict speak in unison at the exact same moment, and your eyes ping to each other, both laughing then bowing your heads immediately. You know your cheeks are flushed.

—

Benedict loves the look in your eye sometimes. That spirited sparkle with glowing cheeks. In his opinion, that is the only look you should ever wear; no one, especially one as unworthy as Mr Reeves, should be allowed to rob you of it. He feels a strong compulsion to do everything in his power to keep you looking like that—carefree, happy, stunning. It’s what motivates his subsequent words.

“If it is not considered too impudent for me to do so, I have a suggestion for Miss y/l/n’s introduction into society,” Benedict offers sincerely. “I believe you should be able to find her an excellent, worthy match by casting a wider net.”

“What are you proposing, Mr Bridgerton?” Mrs Parsons inquiries, almost warily.

“That Miss y/l/n come to London and partake in the remainder of the season as a guest of my family. My mother seems to think it an excellent idea, and I know my younger sister Eloise is already a good friend. I do not see why they could not attend events together,” he shrugs genially.

Mrs Parsons's face is a picture again. “You have already spoken to the Dowager Viscountess of this matter?” she checks, unable to modulate the astonishment in her tone.

“Of course,” he confirms with a nod. “I made such a suggestion this morning when your names came up. She heartily concurs. Miss y/l/n here is too bright and good of a person to have her marital choice limited by geography or circumstance.”

His eyes fall on you, and his heart gallops at the searing look you are giving him.

—

You don’t even try to temper your doe-eyed expression as you look upon Benedict, him extolling your virtues to the audience of the tea room.

Even distracted by all the wondrous things he has to say, you can detect the noise level on the surrounding tables has reduced; everyone in town always keen to eavesdrop on a Bridgerton conversation. Especially one that contains such noteworthy gossip as a local young lady being invited to the London season at the family’s behest.

“My dear, I trust that Lady Bridgerton will look after you well,” Mrs Parsons professes. “I have no objections should you desire to seize this opportunity.” Her tone pointed, very much encouraging you to do so.

“That would be just wonderful, Mr Bridgerton,” you exhale with a grateful smile. “I cannot thank you enough for even thinking to raise such a petition.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss y/l/n,” he smiles, standing up and giving you both a brief, shallow bow. “I shall see you anon, no doubt.”

And with that, he sweeps out of the tearoom, your eye line tracking his concave outline through the curved glass as he rounds the corner out of sight.

“Well, well,” Mrs Parsons puffs out her cheeks. “I am not sure what you did to inspire such actions in a gentleman. But bravo, my dear, bravo,” she holds her teacup aloft in a toast.

You are a jumble of emotions and could not even begin to answer Mrs Parsons about what you could possibly have done. Mostly, you are just elated by the prospect of the chance to attend the whirl of the London season, even if there is also a small pang of regret that Benedict is so keen to see you matched.

II: …Is To Love You

The following Tuesday, as your carriage pulls up outside the grandeur of Bridgerton House, you have nothing but butterflies. And as Lady Bridgerton - Violet as she insists you now call her - and her lady’s maid show you to your charming guest room, you cannot temper your excitement.

“Get yourself freshened up, my dear. There is a soiree this evening at the Queen’s new residence no less, and there is no time like the present to begin your introductions,” the dowager viscountess warmly counsels.

You nod your thank yous, and after they take their leave, you twirl excitedly around the room, taking in the elegant furnishings and airy sunlight flooding in. You pull up in front of a large sash window and are delighted to see bounteous gardens beneath. The rear of the property is very much an oasis of calm in the heart of the city. But one sight in particular draws your eye: a majestic oak with two swings attached to a stately arm. It looks like a place of refuge, and you feel oddly compelled to take a seat there.

Three hours later, walking into the palatial Buckingham House, you are in a different world from the one you know in Kent. Candlelit crystal chandeliers glint like towering clusters of jewels, spraying thousands of shards of light around the room. Every railing is bedecked in hundreds of drooping flower garlands, and the walls groan with enormous portraits of royalty. The mellifluous strains of a chamber orchestra fill the air. Your grip on Eloise’s arm is tight as you try not to look agog at all the opulence surrounding you.

“And I thought Aubrey Hall was grand,” you murmur quietly, and she just guffaws.

—

Benedict arrives late to the soiree from his bachelor lodgings, bustling in as stealthily as possible, knowing he will likely catch his mother’s ire for his tardiness.

But then he sees a sight that makes him temporarily stop dead in his tracks. There, hanging on to his little sister, surveying the room utterly lost in reverie at its grandeur—is you. He has not seen you dressed up as you are now, made over with the full attention of the Bridgerton staff. And he isn't afraid to admit to himself, at least, that it catches his breath. How they have applied cosmetics and styled your hair, emphasising your already evident beauty. And the dress they have chosen… well, he is almost ashamed of the heat pooling low in his gut; he has never seen you in such tailored, refined silks.

Whosoever marries you shall be quite the luckiest man indeed.

He doesn't miss the way you inhale sharply when your eyes finally land on him, his chest swelling slightly with pride as your lips part in surprise before breaking into that winning smile which always seems to brighten every room, tonight being no exception.

As he pulls up to the family, he hears his mother opining to you about the men attending the ball.

“Y/n, I would like to introduce you to Lord Shelton; he is a fine young man with many interests, and he has a lovely estate near Hove,” his mother recounts as you listen intently.

“Oh god, no,” Benedict immediately intervenes, “Shelton has amassed significant debt at the Pudding Lane gaming hell…”

Violet looks up surprised, then raises an eyebrow. “Pray tell dear son, how do you have knowledge of such? Benedict Bridgerton, you had better not be frequenting the hells of the East End,” she threatens quietly, in that stern maternal manner that has any grown man quaking in their polished shoes.

“No, of course not, mother,” he bristles, his eyes cutting briefly to you, not wanting you to think such things of him. “It is an open secret at Whites’, and why he is currently banned from the card room there.”

—

You cannot tear your eyes off Benedict as his mother side-eyes him.

Violet hums sceptically before declaring. “Well, not to worry, there are plenty of other options available for Miss y/l/n…” She steers your attention towards another crowd of young men, all talking and sipping champagne. “Baron Corning, Lord Jennings, Viscount Tewkesbury,” she recounts, nodding subtly to each one. “Any would make a fine addition to your dance card, my dear.”

“We can do much better than any of them,” Benedict chides.

You are slightly taken aback at how very much he sounds like Anthony tonight; apparently very invested in curating who you should dance with. The problem is, with each additional suggestion his mother makes to you, he roundly dismisses them out of hand.

Is no one in attendance up to his standard?

“Benedict, dear, a word?” Violet states pointedly after a third round of his withering opinions. “Get yourself another lemonade,” she smiles at you, patting your hand before looping her arm in her son’s and dragging him away.

—

His mother’s arm is surprisingly strong when she needs it to be.

“Darling, may I remind you, while Miss Y/l/n is indeed a wonderful person, I do not think we can afford to be too picky for her prospects. Her background is rather… unestablished,” Violet points out diplomatically as soon as you are out of earshot.

“We can do better than braggards, bores and philanderers,” Benedict shoots back, raising a pointed eyebrow.

She looks up at him and sighs. “Well, that is true.”

“As I thought, mother,” he winks as she affectionately swats his forearm. “Why not benefit from my knowledge? In fact, perhaps it is prudent I assist in your search for a suitor.”

“Oh, is it now?” Her tone suddenly filled with intrigue, her face entirely too scrutinising for his liking. “And does not my second son wish to join their ranks?” She adds entirely unsubtly.

“I have no time for romance; I have my art. I am most preoccupied.” He waves a dismissive hand, but even he knows his answer is tellingly brusque.

“And yet, you do not seem too busy to assist with the search, dear…” she points out archly.

Benedict has no response to that.

—

The day after the grand ball, you are sat in the dappled shade in the gardens of Bridgerton House, attempting needlework. It's never been your strength, frankly. You would much rather be allowed to partake in more physical pursuits, like archery or fencing, a want to burn off nervous energy as you await the arrival of any suitors. You did end up dancing with a couple of gentlemen, both of whom were…. fine… in your estimation.

After messing up yet another stitch, you throw down the embroidery hoop and emit a deep sigh when a familiar chuckle rings out behind you.

“Not your favourite pastime?” Benedict correctly guesses.

“You can say that again,” you grumble, twisting to smile at him, a little frisson in your belly at his mere presence, alone as you are.

He rounds to take a seat opposite you, across the table.

“So let me guess,” his face charmingly skewed into a thoughtful mien. “You would prefer to be doing something, hmmmm, more athletic?”

You giggle and cast your eyes downwards briefly, abashed he seems to know you so well. “Correct again.”

“I remember you being a crack shot in archery,” he smiles nostalgically before continuing with genuine curiosity. “Why did you not continue it?”

“I was informed ‘tis unbecoming for a lady,” you rue, the mental image of Mrs Parsons deeming such things ‘unladylike’ flitting through your mind.

He scoffs. “Since when did fearsome little Skylark care one jot for societal expectations?” he teases gently, with a wink, as again he invokes the nickname he bestowed upon you a long time hence.

You smile briefly before you become more sanguine. “Since I have been informed I must find a husband…” you sigh.

He frowns a touch. “Any man would be lucky to have a wife who can keep him company on the archery field. I know I, for one, would greatly appreciate a spouse with whom I could share such a pastime.”

A bittersweet twinge in your gut that one day he will indeed be married to some deserving, no doubt elegant, lady.

“I would venture that you are not like most gentlemen in that regard…”

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, looking thoughtful, “but then you are not like most ladies, Skylark.”

“I am not a lady…” your counterpoint softly-spoken, almost ashamed.

“You are more lady than any other member of the Ton,” he asserts, his gaze suddenly intense, as if he is willing you to believe his point. “And you should be free to pursue any pastime you wish.”

You say nothing, just smile wanly, wishing you could believe it was true.

—

How you constantly doubt yourself causes a little stab behind Benedict’s ribs. A sudden burning need to prove that you should do as you please. He slaps his thighs and stands up swiftly.

“In fact, I am going to go set up the archery targets right now,” he nods decisively, making a beeline for the far corner of the garden where he knows the targets are kept, hoping you will follow.

“Coming?” he calls, twisting to look back at you. “I won't tell anyone…” he adds with a conspiratorial wink, seeing from the involuntary bounce of your leg how much you wish to join in.

He cannot help the smile that engulfs his face as you jump to your feet with a mischievous giggle. Nor can he help deliberately aiming badly, letting you roundly defeat him at target practice, basking in the victorious glint in your eye as you tease him gently for losing.

He also pretends not to notice his mother watching from a high window, her expression riveted and so very telling.

—

Later that day, you are reading quietly with Eloise when Violet sweeps into the drawing room with her lady's maid.

“Y/n, Sir Denton is here to see you,” she smiles brightly.

“Oh, I…” you stutter, sitting upright, surprised.

“I can send him away, Miss?” The maid offers, intuiting your disquiet.

“No, no, it is fine… I am just surprised, that is all. ‘Tis almost 4pm. I was not expecting that anyone would be calling, given the late hour.”

Benedict suddenly materialises in the doorway. As ever, there’s that trademark flutter in your chest.

“Any reason Denton is lingering in the hallway?” he inquires airily, grabbing a teacup and pouring himself some.

“He is here for y/n,” Violet breezes as his eyes cut to you, a wave of irritation seeming to cloud his face.

“Well, we should dismiss him,” Benedict sniffs, pausing in his action, his face souring.

“Why?” Violet frowns.

“I had a chance to look into his past since I acquiesced to his dance with y/n last night…”

“Acquiesced?!” Violet scoffs, but Benedict ignores her interjection, save for a curt eyebrow raise.

“I have subsequently discovered he has vastly overstated his assets,” Benedict bristles imperiously.

“Who woke up and made you Anthony?” Eloise pipes up witheringly.

Benedict shoots her a look of irritation. “Anthony has deputised me to run family matters while he is away on business this week, sister,” he reminds pointedly.

“Yes, but you did not have to adopt his personality as well,” Eloise shoots back, disgust evident on her face.

“I take finding y/n here, a suitable match, seriously,” he volleys. “Do you wish to see your good friend married to someone unworthy of her?”

“Well, no…”

“Then kindly permit me to handle matters,” Benedict orders with finality, uncharacteristically forthright in his opinions.

“I do not wish to see her married at all…” Eloise mutters under her breath as he stalks away to dispatch Denton before anyone can argue.

You just sit there mildly dumbfounded, unsure what to make of it all.

—

The following evening, you are attending a music recital with the Bridgertons; Benedict is notably absent, which makes you a touch melancholic in a way you don’t want to dwell on.

However, the evening turns for the better while you are taking refreshments at the interval. A friendly-faced young man strikes up a conversation with you after an introduction from Violet.

“Are you enjoying the music tonight, Miss y/l/n?” he asks genially.

“It is very nice, Lord Glassborough,” you offer politely, trying to stifle your slight boredom. You enjoy music, but a two-hour concert is a little too much for you. You much prefer a short set of songs as they play at balls.

“I find it rather dull myself,” he opines quietly, leaning in. “I much prefer a lively song one may dance to.”

You know your face is a picture of surprise that his opinion is an exact mirror of your own.

“Have I offended you so?” he checks, looking mildly contrite.

“Not at all, my lord. I was actually just thinking the same myself,” you chuckle quietly.

He looks inordinately pleased and breaks into a friendly, toothy grin. He seems like a nice, agreeable sort. A pleasant, if not particularly handsome, face. Over his shoulder, you see Violet looking inordinately pleased you appear to be getting on so well.

—

“I am not sure I can do this...” you sigh as Ms West genially taps the metronome.

“You can, dear; just remember your finger placement,” she encourages as your fingers fall to the cool ivory keys.

And so you begin again. Attempting to master this tricky piece, your eyes tracing the lines of music as you play the pianoforte. Violet is so keen for you to brush up on your skills, given Lord Glassborough’s interest in you yesterday. You could not find an adequate excuse fast enough, and so here you are, in a slightly reluctant music lesson, trying your best to recall how Mrs Parsons taught you to play a few years ago.

“Men do so appreciate a lady who can entertain them with exquisite music,” Ms West nods approvingly as you play.

Mostly, you are relieved when you make it to the end with no mistakes, at least none glaringly obvious.

“I much prefer to sing…” you admit tacitly as Ms West shuffles the sheet music.

She looks at you surprised, then shoos you from the piano stool. “Sing for me then, my dear…” taking a seat and beginning the opening bars to a song that, fortunately, you know well.

You begin to sing along, growing more confident with every note, allowing yourself to get lost in the words, the story of a lady awaiting her true love.

“Exceptional!” she peals delightedly over the sound, and you feel bolstered to continue, her playing the perfect accompaniment.

—

Benedict stops short as soon as he enters the house. The most lilting, beautiful sound echoing gently down the marble hall.

“Who is that Jenkins?” he asks of the butler who takes his coat.

“I believe it is Miss y/l/n, sir.”

He draws inexorably closer, finding himself watching you through the crack in the doorway, listening to you sing a touching tale of love that sounds so hauntingly hypnotic in your mellifluous tones. Your eyes are closed, and you sway to the melody, lost in reverie, in the narrative you weave.

The piano stops abruptly.

“Can we help you, sir?” an elder lady calls crisply.

Benedict realises the door has crept open slightly before him, enough for him to be seen by your music teacher. He watches as you swing around and look horrified that you may have an audience. It makes him take a resolute step forward into the room.

“Do you need us to desist? Is it perhaps too loud?” the lady checks deferentially, likely assuming him to be the head of the household.

“No!” His reply is a touch too forceful. “Please continue,” he modifies. “I was merely drawn by the splendid sound I heard. I am not sure I have ever heard such a wondrous voice,” he adds, keeping his gaze steadfastly upon the lady, not able to look you in the eye as he confesses as such.

—

You are mortified when you realise Benedict heard you singing; you have always managed to keep it private, until now at least. But now your heart is suddenly pounding at his extolling words.

“She does indeed have a most excellent voice,” Ms West concurs with his sentiment, looking at you expectantly as Benedict walks further into the room, his face with the same hopeful expression.

“I am not sure I can…” you stumble, nervous for an audience, most especially him; his is the opinion that would matter to you the most—you would be crestfallen should he not like it.

“Sing more for me, please, Skylark?” His ask is gentle, beseeching as if it were just the two of you alone.

“Skylark?” Ms West sounds enchanted.

“My childhood nickname for Miss y/l/n,” Benedict explains as he takes a seat.

“Skylarks have a wonderful song,” she sighs wistfully.

“Indeed,” Benedict chimes, his eyes still upon you. “I never knew how appropriate it was until this very moment.”

Something warm cracks in your chest at his sweet words, making you courageous. At least enough to nod when Ms West looks to you again from the piano. And so you restart the song for your special audience, heart in your mouth. The words coming easily to you, an extra layer of meaning he will never know as you sing words of unrequited devotion, looking to him in your braver moments. His face is enrapt, leaning forward, his eyes soft and expressive.

As you reach a high note at the end of the song, holding it, Benedict bursts into applause, jumping up from his seat and taking you by surprise, grabbing your gloved hands in his.

“You should always be singing Skylark…” he pronounces. “Truly beautiful. Please promise me, no matter what happens, that you will always, always sing…”

You duck your head briefly, unsure how to deal with his effusive praise. Ms West’s face is a picture as you stand there, your hands still trapped in his, feeling a tingle where the warmth of his skin seeps through the layers to yours.

“I-I-I promise,” you reply meekly, a touch dazed as you raise your eyes again to meet his, the intensity making your lungs restrict.

“Thank you.”

Two words have never sounded so sincere or loaded with significance.

III: … And I Do.

A few days later, it is the Trowbridge Ball, a decadent affair that is usually the most talked about of the season, apparently. You share a carriage ride there with Benedict and Eloise, trying your best not to stare at him—so handsomely dressed in a white cravat and black velvet cropped jacket that clings to his tapered shape. But mostly, you fail. Your skin flushes hot the more you look at him. You could swear that his gaze strays to you, too, subtly sweeping the fine teal silk Madam Delacroix has expertly tailored for you.

“You look beautiful this evening, ladies,” he offers politely to both you and Eloise.

“What do you want?” Eloise cuts across your reply, narrowing her eyes at her older brother, instantly suspicious of his flattery.

“Can I not compliment without an ulterior motive?” he frowns, their usual sibling dynamic emerging.

“Not usually,” Eloise sniffs, with another suspicious glance, before looking out the carriage window.

You take the opportunity to mumble your thanks to him. His responding smile warms your entire being, his hazy eyes lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle. And when he offers a chivalrous hand to assist you down from the carriage, you could swear his hand lingers upon yours a few seconds longer than is necessary.

Around an hour later, as you go to partake in a refreshment, a sneering Lady Cowper utters something cruel under her breath as you pass, her sour-looking daughter smirking beside her. You do not hear all of the words, but you do not need to. One sideways glance tells you all that you need to know. It seems so unnecessarily cruel, never having even exchanged so much as a word with you, but even as you feel a lump in your throat, their attention is already elsewhere.

“Ah! Mr Briddgerton,” her entire demeanour changing to oleaginous charm, “my daughter looks particularly stunning tonight, does she not? I do believe you should secure a place upon her dance card before there are none left!”

You watch Benedict blanch at the very words.

“I do not dance, Lady Cowper, but I bid you ladies a good evening,” he responds, polite but firm.

You try your hardest not to giggle at the disdained look on their faces as he sweeps past them, and you feel light as air as, instead, he draws up to you and winks.

“That woman does not realise she is doing her daughter’s prospects more harm than good with her brashness,” he comments dryly as he grabs a glass of champagne from the stand next to you.

“I am not so sure the daughter would do much better without her; she seems perpetually furious about her own hairstyle,” you opine sardonically, making Benedict snort loudly into his champagne glass. A lightness fizzles in your being as he shoots you a look of unmistakable admiration for that remark.

“I daresay you are a much better dancer than her,” he contends, not breaking eye contact, placing aside his drink before leaning in and continuing in a hushed voice. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of a dance, Skylark, to confirm my suspicion?”

There is a vault in your chest as he employs your private nickname in public and, not only that, is offering you a dance when, just a moment ago, he declared publicly that he would not.

You can only nod, heart hammering, as he breaks out into the most handsome smile, offering you his arm and leading you to the centre of the room as you hear a ripple go through the nearby crowd. Apparently the sight of one Benedict Bridgerton taking to the dancefloor is a rare occasion indeed.

—

As he takes your gloved hand in his and curls an arm around your shoulder, he realises this was perhaps a mistake. An impromptu offer, the hollow thrill of petty revenge for the insult he observed the Cowpers sling at you. But now he realises it has rather backfired upon him.

He cares not a jot for the gossiping, people nodding and pointing to you both as you begin to dance. No, the problem is much more concerning than that.

It is how discombobulated he feels having you in his arms.

How your body seems to fit and move perfectly with his. How, when you dare to look up at him, his mouth goes a little dry. He has never truly noticed how striking your eyes are until seeing them this close. Indeed, the evident beauty of your face, the way you seem to glow from within, more tonight than ever. It makes his chest - and somewhere else on his body - feel entirely too tight.

—

Nothing could have prepared you for this.

The feeling of literally being swept off your feet. With Benedict's handsome face smiling down upon you as you seem to float around the dancefloor.

Surely, this is what dreams are made of?

You know it is a flight of fancy, but it seems as though the floor beneath your feet is a shower of diamonds rather than candlelight refracted through chandeliers. The warmth and strength of Benedict’s embrace caged around you, respectful but so close it makes your lungs feel too small to gasp the air you need to keep moving. But you never want to stop. A whirlwind of sensation as you twirl, carried away by the music, the man, the moment.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you breathe, knowing you are likely looking up at him far too adoringly but unable to mask it, a burning need for him to know how grateful you are for this dance, not even noting your over-familial use of his first name at a society event.

His eyes flash and you could swear they dilate a fraction before you must turn your back to him, following the steps.

“I was right,” he rumbles cryptically from behind you now, his large hands wrapped around yours as you hold them aloft together, following the moves of the dance. “It is indeed an honour to dance with you.”

Your belly flares as you turn in unison and realise that you are now dancing right in front of Cressida, her expression murderous. It makes you bolder than you have ever been, tilting your head sideways a fraction so your cheek almost brushes Benedict’s, fuelled by the envy you feel seething from within her.

You could swear he sighs ‘Skylark’ as his hot breath tickles your ear, your chest pounding, a flavour in the air you can taste, a powerful stirring low in your belly.

—

Benedict knows this is a dangerous path and yet is powerless to do anything but walk it. Breathing your nickname into your hair as he inhales your scent, heightened by the movement of your dancing. A light, sweet floral perfume but underneath the smell of you, familiar from many years of friendship but altered now, more decadent, an undercurrent of tart berries that thrills and stirs deep within him. Even while knowing his ever-vigilant mother is watching, an inscrutable expression upon her face.

He is almost grateful when the music ends before he does something foolish. But then you are staring up into his face, all doe-eyed expectant beauty and his tongue feels unexpectedly tied. He is almost grateful when an interrupting hand wraps around his shoulder.

—

You watch Will Mondrich whisper in Benedict’s ear, and before you know it, he is offering apologies to you with a shallow, polite bow before hurrying away. Coming back to reality with a bump, you drift awkwardly from the dance floor, feeling judgy eyes upon you, suddenly flooded with concern your behaviour was entirely too wanton.

Before your thoughts can spiral too far, however, someone materialises at your side.

“I do so hope your dance card is not full tonight, Miss y/l/n,” a newly-familiar, chipper voice cut in.

“Lord Glassborough,” you breathe; your relief at seeing his cordial face is palpable. “I am available to dance right now,” you smile politely, taking his proffered arm and letting him lead you back out to the spot you and Benedict had just vacated.

As the music begins and you move together, the difference is… noticeable. Gone is the frisson over your limbs, that excitement as if your skin could vibrate off your bones. Instead you feel comforted, almost a brotherly presence as he leads you in the dance. He is technically proficient, but it feels lacking—that tension, that heat burning in the space between you. It makes you yearn for Benedict even though he was just with you. It makes your stomach settle with a leaden weight you realise you will have to settle for less than what you truly desire.

Still distracted by your mental comparison, you absently acquiesce to his suggestion to take some air upon the terrace as the dance ends. You sense Violet, ever the vigilant chaperone, follow as he leads you into the cooler air outside.

“Miss y/l/n…,” Lord Glassborough begins cautiously. You sense a nervousness in his being, pulling your full focus to him. “I think us most compatible, would you not agree?”

“We make most excellent friends, indeed, Lord Glassborough,” you hedge, not wanting to appear overzealous.

“And friendship is the most appropriate foundation to build something more… tender,” he argues with a smile. “I do believe I could offer you a most agreeable life.”

There is a strange twinge in your chest as suddenly, you realise what this is. The moment everyone, except perhaps yourself, has been awaiting all season.

“I would be honoured if you would consent to be my wife, Miss y/l/n,” he humbly offers a sincere kindness shining in his eyes.

And there it is. An offer of marriage from a perfectly nice, respectable gentleman done in an appropriate manner.

To one side, you see Violet clutch a hand over her chest, face delighted, even as you form fists within your delicate gloves, wishing this moment were not happening so soon after a truly breathtaking dance with the man of your dreams. Who is not the same man as the one before you, nervously shuffling from foot to foot, awaiting your reply.

“I am honoured, Lord Glassborough,” you answer cautiously, bowing your head demurely. “This is a big decision to make. Please allow me time to give you my proper, considered answer?”

“Of course,” he bows chivalrously, his accommodating nature making this moment all the more bittersweet. He is indeed a lovely man.

He is just not the one you want with every fibre of your being.

—

That night, you cannot sleep. Knowing you have the most significant decision of your life to make. So, in the small hours, you find yourself drifting to the deserted kitchen of Bridgerton House to do what you do best when you need to think calmly—baking.

An activity you have grown up doing with Mrs Parsons. Many hours spent happily with flour dusting your hands, sun streaming into her grand but homely kitchen. A perhaps slightly maverick pastime for a lady of her social standing, with staff to do such things for her should she wish it, but so very enjoyable nonetheless.

Throwing a large, heavy baking apron over your nightdress and robe, you potter around, the flagstone of the basement floor cold underfoot, a grounding feeling that stops your mind from racing too much.

You have no idea how to respond to Glassborough’s proposal. On one hand, he is a seemingly nice man, certainly of a good family. You are sure he would be a perfectly acceptable husband, unlikely to be mean or untoward. It is just… a nagging voice is telling you to turn him down despite him being an imminently sensible choice, your heart wanting, well, the impossible. A man that excites you, not just a safe, practical option.

You are onto your second batch of lemon and rosemary biscuits when a voice makes you jump out of your skin.

“What on earth…?”

There in the doorway is Benedict, looking confounded to find you here. The very man who makes your heart skip, always. He is dressed the most casually you have ever seen him— also barefoot, in a white frilled shirt and dark trousers, brocade braces slung around his hips. You swear you may have to grab the bench before you to stay upright.

“Y/n! We have cooks you can call upon at any time should you need food!” he fusses, instantly concerned, moving to ring a bell on the wall.

“No! Please do not!” You exclaim, rushing to stop him, grabbing his sleeve in your haste. “I-I enjoy baking. It is relaxing; it helps me to think.”

His brow knits and his eyes flick down to your hold on his sleeve, a warm vein pulsing under your fingertips. You snatch your hand away quickly, a blush staining your cheeks, mumbling an apology as you scurry back to your biscuit-making.

“Alright,” he concedes slowly, still appearing confused. “When I saw the sconces lit from the rear stairwell, I assumed one of the staff was still down here.”

You find it bemusing that he seems at pains to justify why he might also be in the kitchen, especially to you, a guest. This is Bridgerton House, and he is a Bridgerton. He may go wherever he pleases, surely? And yet here he is, doing so.

“I was rather hoping for some hot cocoa,” he explains with that soft, crooked smile that always makes your heart flutter.

“Oh! Well, umm, I could make you some cocoa?” you look down, wiping your hands upon your apron and moving to do so.

—

That you would make such an offer, as if seeing yourself as unpaid help, spurs him into action.

“No, you certainly will not!” He decries, moving swiftly towards the larder before you can. “I am perfectly fine with some cold milk,” he assures, re-emerges with a bottle and pouring himself a glass, leaning back against the sink to take a sip.

Despite the lateness of the hour, he finds your heretofore secret pastime strangely fascinating. A lady who bakes. By choice. So he watches as you return to making your biscuit dough, entertained as you begin to beat the mixture quite furiously with a wooden spatula.

“Have those ingredients caused you some sort of personal offence….?” he jests lightly, nodding to the bowl.

He observes a flit of contrition across your face before you answer.

“I, umm, have a decision that I must make; baking helps me think,” you explain vaguely, then appear to rapidly change the subject. “I am, however, sure of one fact - some biscuits are a must to accompany milk. There is a completed batch over there.”

“Genius,” he opines with a wink, enthusiastically moving to grab one from the cooling rack you signalled to, delighting in the blush that darkens your cheeks. But he decides to push the topic you abruptly avoided. Concerned there could be a topic you are genuinely wrestling with. If his opinion on the matter can ameliorate your burdens, he would be most honoured to assist.

“What sort of decision must you make?” he inquires before temporarily losing the power of speech. There is an explosion of tart lemon and earthy herb on his tongue that melts into a buttery sweetness, utterly divine. “Lord alive, these are delicious!!!” he exclaims around the mouthful.

“Thank you,” you answer softly.

You are always so modest about your talents; it sometimes makes him want to grab your shoulders and shake you gently. To make you see what he does.

“To answer your question, it is a perplexing matter that needs serious consideration,” you explain, stopping short of detail. It appears you are not yet ready to share the news with him. Something about that makes him a touch sad, but he also does not want to pry if you are reluctant to divulge.

—

Benedict swallows the bite he has taken, and you find yourself staring at the movement of his throat as he does. Knowing one thing to be true—if it were his proposal, you would not even hesitate for a split second. That wistful thought makes you suddenly melancholic, and you sigh, pushing aside your mixing bowl, realising this may be an issue baking will not fix.

“I do so hate to see you doubt yourself, Skylark,” he offers quietly after a beat, mien so earnest. “Trust yourself. You will find the right answer for your dilemma; I am certain of it.”

He is so remarkably supportive that, ironically, you almost want to scream at him.

“I should leave you to your thoughts,” his tone is gentle, reluctant.

“Please, there is no need, Benedict,” you try to assure. “To be honest, in all of this world, yours is the company I enjoy the very most…”

That truth is out of your mouth before you can censor it.

You sheepishly glance over to be met by a surprised look on his face. He takes a few steps towards you, probably without realising it, and suddenly, he is very close, faint wisps of his woodsy, citrus cologne tickling your nose.

“And I, yours, Skylark…” he rumbles, his gaze falling to your lips.

Time seems to stop, and you feel pinned under glass, staring up into his handsome face as he breathes slightly ragged, your body rioting as he engulfs your senses, definitely too close to be considered gentlemanly, polite…

…But then, he takes a sharp inhale and steps back as if coming to his senses. He turns heel with a hastily muttered goodbye, and before you know it, he is gone. Leaving you bewildered, your thoughts scattered.

—

The following day, Benedict is idly reading the paper, partaking in a leisurely lunch of tea and cake, when his mother swans in, reeling off a set of instructions for her lady's maid.

“Oh, and lastly, do not forget, we should secure an appointment with the modiste, in case Miss y/l/n should know her answer today…” Violet concludes breezily as she takes a seat.

“Yet another ball we must suffer, mother?” Benedict drawls drily, folding down his paper and taking a hearty bite of zesty lemon drizzle.

She shoots her son an exasperated look before neatly smoothing a serviette into her lap as she is served her usual afternoon Earl Grey by the butler. “Miss y/l/n will be in need of a wedding dress, Benedict, dear.”

He spits an array of crumbs onto his newspaper, coughing in shock. “She will need what?!?” he wheezes, barely recovering.

“Lord Glassborough proposed to Miss y/l/n last night, my dear, at the ball. She has yet to give her answer, but I am certain she will. They are a fine match,” Violet declares, taking a sip of tea.

“Why did she not mention it to me?” he mutters, more to himself than anyone, his forehead creasing heavily in a frown as he swallows the rest of his mouthful.

“Why would she have?”

“We talked last night…” letting slip perhaps too much in his perplexed state, lost in his own tumbling thoughts.

“When last night? We returned from the ball very late,” a suspicious tone in his mother’s voice, belatedly releasing he should know better than to think aloud; she is sharp as a tack.

“I-I found Miss y/l/n baking last night… in the kitchen when I went for cocoa… she told me she had a dilemma she was wrestling with…” he admits, looking down at the paper, the words now a jumble before his eyes. “Mother do you think it is possible she will say yes??” Benedict's head snaps up, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

“She would be a fool not to,” Violet points out, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow at him. “Unless there was another, perhaps more wanted, proposal she could consider. Do you possibly know of one? Son?”

Even he can read between those lines.

“I-I am late,” he abruptly changes tack. “I promised to meet Anthony today to discuss the soil at Aubrey,” he bustles rapidly, standing and fleeing the room before he can allow his mother to see how much of a complete lie that is.

—

Benedict spends the afternoon at White’s, downing perhaps one too many whiskeys as he grills his fellow patrons upon the Glassborough family. Looking for any reason he can find to object to the betrothal while steadfastly refusing to examine why he feels so passionately about the subject. He also spends time checking the hefty tomes of Debrett’s the club holds.

He returns to Bridgerton House just as dusk settles in, the sky streaking red and pink as he enters.

“Where have you been, dear?” Violet asks as he rounds into the parlour.

“Researching,” he gruffs economically.

“What? Or rather whom?” Violet inquires, revealing she already has a firm idea of what she asks.

“I can find nothing wrong with him!”

Benedict paces, an energy emanating from his being as if he is rattled by that very fact.

“That is a good thing, is it not, son?” Violet reminds pointedly. “We want y/n married to a good gentleman…”

Benedict shoots her an exasperated look but relents. “I suppose…”

“Is not your reluctance perhaps for another reason, my dear?” Her question is gentle, if not particularly subtle.

He slumps into a wingback chair with a defeated sigh. “Go ahead. Say your piece, mother.”

“I have watched you, darling,” she begins gently, watching him tip his head back and screw his eyes shut. “I do not know exactly when, but your regard of Miss y/l/n has altered, and I am not the only one to observe it.”

Benedict's eyes fly open, and he tips his head down with a frown as his mother continues.

“Even Colin has marked a change in you. If you feel anything, my dear, then Miss y/l/n has the right to know. Before it is too late. The right to make an informed choice if you are bold enough to give her one. Son, I have only ever wanted my children’s happiness. And if your happiness lies somewhere that perhaps even you have not realised until now…. well then I encourage you to follow it. Follow your heart.”

Her impassioned speech suddenly makes the pieces of a jumbled jigsaw before his eyes arrange into a pattern, a way forward that is suddenly clear and sharply in focus.

It makes him leap to his feet, an urgency thronging in his being.

“Where is Miss y/l/n?” he almost barks.

“I do not know,” Violet confesses, “but I do know she has not yet seen or written to Lord Glassborough,” she adds.

“Good…” he rasps, headed determined out of the room to find you.

—

The verdant lush grass is cool between your toes as you curl them over, sighing heavily, the night now dark, a twinkle of silver among the navy sky, soon to be black. The swing under the big oak, a refuge you have sought many times since staying at Bridgerton House, feels a particularly poignant place to be tonight as an internal war rages within you, your decision swaying back and forth as much as the wooden seat you are perched upon, the rope digging into your cheekbone as you slump against it, flummoxed.

You know what your answer to Glassborough should be. Indeed, what it should have been from the moment he asked.

A resounding yes.

In every practical measure, this is the best possible outcome of your London season. A proposal from a thoroughly decent, acceptable gentleman, way above the station you were expecting, given your less than prestigious certainty of lineage.

And yet.

There is a large part of you, your heart, that wants to turn down the proposal, foolhardy as that may be. Wanting to feel akin to what you felt as you danced with Benedict last night. You are not so foolish as to believe he would ever propose, but perhaps there is someone else out there for you that may evoke something similar for you? Even if only half, it would be enough. Enough for you to build a future around and feel contentment in your heart, to not just settle for what your head knows to be a sensible choice.

—

Having searched the house, he rounds into the garden and stops short, heart leaping into his throat as he spies you, swaying gently upon the swing, looking thoroughly lost in thought. It makes his chest ache that you are so melancholic about a decision that should indeed be joyous. The selfish part of him celebrating, hoping that perhaps you are not. His memory recalls with perfect clarity how you have looked as lost as he now feels every time you have been close. The unbearable lightness of hope seizes his legs and draws him inexorably closer.

—

You whip around as you sense company and have to take a deep breath as your eyes fall upon Benedict. His face pinched with a restless intensity.

“I was hoping I would find you,” he exhales.

“You have,” you shrug, still confused by his crackling energy, him seeming in a rush to say something.

“Skylark, you deserve the very best of everything. Sincerely. And part of that includes that you should know the truth in the hearts of those lucky enough to know you…” a slight quake in his voice as he takes a step closer.

“Alright…” you respond cautiously, your brow creasing as you sense the nerves emanating from him.

You gasp as he rapidly drops to one knee before you, a hand clutched to his chest.

“I have been a fool to not see it before now. My own ardent admiration for you, for your talents, for your beauty. I realise now, perhaps too late, that you are truly the most wondrous, precious being in this world. You may not always see it, but it would be my greatest honour to show you, every day, if you will permit me, what I see when I look upon you. What I have always seen if I am honest with myself. A light that shines brighter than any other, a bird that soars higher and sings more sweetly than any other. A soul that it would be a privilege to be bound to. I know it is perhaps the worst possible timing, seeing as you already have a proposal from a perfectly acceptable gentleman. Still, I could not let you get married without letting you know the contents of my heart.”

You are stunned. Speechless.

Your heart pounds in your ribcage as you sit there stupified for what must be an age, Benedict looking upon you expectantly, breath slightly ragged from his long speech. Somehow, convincing yourself this could only be a dream. That the man you have adored since before you can remember has just made the most beautiful poetic confession of love you have ever heard. And it’s to you.

So, you do the only logical thing that comes to mind. Pinch your own leg. Hard.

—

Benedict is momentarily confounded at your actions.

“Owwww!” you yelp. “Not dreaming then…” is your muttered follow-up, rubbing your own knee as his face morphs into the most enormous grin, a lightning bolt of joy tearing through him as he realises what you are doing, that you can scarcely believe this is happening any more than he can.

“It is really me, Skylark,” he chuckles softly, seeing the way your eyes dilate rapidly as he can't help the lopsided grin that claims his face, a warmth behind his ribs that is just for you.

“I realise that now,” you sass back, and there is a stirring in his trousers at the tone you employ.

“I love you.”

It's a reflex; he doesn't even realise he says it. But as soon as it's out of his mouth, it's like an invisible burden has been lifted from his entire being. The truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.

—

You know your face is aflame as you snap back at him, entirely without meaning to, but then he says three little words that tilt your whole world even more.

“I-I-I love you too.”

You are bewildered when you say it aloud.

The truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.

“Marry me? Please. My darling, wonderful friend,” he implores, his bare hands grabbing yours, tingles shooting over you as your skin touches his.

“Yes!! I will!!!” you answer breathlessly, not even a second of hesitation.

He leans in and captures your lips with his. They are warm and soft as they move gently with yours. And when he opens your mouth with his and his tongue rolls delicately over yours, it feels as if all the fireworks you have seen in the sky live now inside you, popping and exploding in a riot of colour. A whole new world of sensual pleasure is promised in that one move.

“Are you certain?” you murmur as you break apart for air, a flash of insecurity that this is happening so fast, even as there is a strong pull inside, a want to keep kissing him over and over.

He smiles, tilting his forehead to yours, a wistful look in his blue eyes.

“To know you, truly know you, is to love you, Skylark,” he sighs, his words a blanket settling over your quaking heart. “And I do. I truly do.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

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missadangel · 10 days ago

Text

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 1: Blind Date

series masterlist

Summary: You work as a housekeeper in a rich family's mansion and often have to deal with their spoiled daughter. One day, she asks you to pretend to be her on a blind date with a guy her dad picked out for her. Your mission is to make him not like you so he won't want to marry her. But here's the twist: will Harry end up hating you, or could he actually fall for you? That's the real question. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, piv sex, kissing, Word Count: 4.8k for now, There will be a part two if you guys like it, but I'm not sure about the rest. Sorry for the poor writing; that was quick. authors note: I am not sure about his name. If there's any update, I will edit. English is not my native, so please be nice; this is my third fanfiction. Thank you for the reblogs, comments, and likes. Love you all!

"Ugh, this dress is so last season! Are you serious? Everything here is out of style—get rid of them! Call Elliot and have them send me another dress, or I'm going to be really pissed!"

As if tossed at you like a used handkerchief, another dress worth thousands of dollars—perhaps only worn once—landed in your hands. You sighed as you looked at the elegant dress you were now holding, the Gucci label glinting under the light.

"Story of my life," you mumbled.

Working as a housekeeper in a millionaire's house was hard enough, but dealing with his spoiled and ill-tempered daughter was exhausting. Yet you were determined that it would soon be over. You could no longer endure this physical and psychological torture. With the money you had saved, you planned to open your own restaurant—fulfilling your dream. You just needed to save a little more and hang in there a bit longer.

Your boss was a decent, kind man, but his daughter was so unbearable that every housekeeper assigned left the next day.

How do you even tolerate her?

Because you didn’t have the luxury of quitting and waiting for a new job. You were still young and trying to establish yourself in the business. The extra pay you received was simply to endure her antics. Your kind millionaire boss had even promised you all the support you needed, suggesting you could quit your day job and focus solely on managing his daughter’s affairs. But how could you have known it would be so challenging? Still, you managed to get through each day and believed you could endure this for just a little while longer. After all, you had survived three challenging years already, right?

The mansion was enormous, and everything inside was meticulously organized. Everyone—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, and even the owners—followed a disciplined daily routine.

Except for the young lady of the house.

You never knew when she would wake up or come downstairs to join her family at the dinner table. She was stubborn, mean, and unpredictable, and you had to manage her behavior just as you managed her dresses, her dates, and her friends. Because you were responsible for her, there were times when you wished you could handle all the housework yourself and let someone else take care of her demands. Despite being just an ordinary housekeeper, your name was the one that echoed the most throughout this vast mansion.

Why?

Because the young lady constantly called on you to fulfill her never-ending requests. And it was one of those moments again. Since it was evening, you guessed she was probably getting ready for a night out at the club, and you felt a surge of annoyance as you rushed to her room.

"I can't believe I was a size 8 before starting this job; now I'm down to a size 6," you mumbled to yourself, quickly making your way up the stairs.

One of the cleaners dusting the vases in the hallway shot you a wink and let out a sigh. Man, you’d do just about anything to be in her shoes, just taking care of that vase!

As soon as you knocked on the door, the young lady Melanie opened it, pulled you inside by the arm, and slammed the door shut behind you. You were taken aback—had you made a mistake? It had only been two hours since you last saw her; you had picked up her clothes off the floor and taken them to the laundry room. She had seemed content, busy texting on her phone. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your eyes wide. For some reason, she looked super tense and nervous.

“You’ve gotta help me,” she said almost desperately, which caught you off guard; it was pretty rare for her to ask for help like this, very rare.

“Of course, if I know what’s going on…”

“Remember that thing we did with the senator's son? I need you to do something like that again.”

You froze for a moment. She was referring to something you had helped her with before—something you weren't very proud of.

“Oh, but—” you frowned. “You said I’d never have to do anything like that again.”

Years ago, you had done your best to disguise yourself as Melanie to turn off the senator's son and prevent him from marrying her. It had worked, but lying to someone was a real headache. Thankfully, Melanie's father hadn’t suspected a thing, but the thought of risking it again felt scarier than anything else.

“I know, I know, but I’m in a tough spot. My dad has been speaking with a matchmaker again to arrange a match for me. After the scandal at the club last time, he's determined to marry me off for sure. Please, I need your help.”

How could she still act so childish in her late twenties? As she looked at you with those pleading eyes, memories of all the times she’d yelled at you and scolded you flashed in your mind. It was fine when you were more like her special assistant instead of just a housekeeper, but now it feels like you’re just a toy to her. When she wants to have fun, she plays with you—almost like you’re her little slave or something.

“I’m not here for that,” you said firmly. “That is not my job.” Your patience was running thin, and this was just too much.

“But you’re supposed to help me,” she shot back, stubborn as ever. “And it’ll be easier this time, I promise.”

You narrowed your eyes and said, “We got caught last time when the guy found out and cursed both of us. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? And if your father discovers what we’re up to this time…”

She replied with a grin, “We won’t get caught this time because I already sent them my photo instead of yours. Besides, you know how my father is strict about always having my picture removed from newspapers and magazines.”

“You did what?” you wailed.

“Chill, it’s all figured out. I’ve been working on this since last week. You’ll have dinner with the guy, pretend to be me, scare him off, and boom! He won’t want to hear my name again. Easy peasy!”

You rolled your eyes. “But he’s surely seen your photo somewhere; he can’t be that clueless.”

“No, he’s a very busy businessman. He has lived abroad for years and has just returned from France. He’s looking to set up his business here in New York,” she said as she opened her laptop and pulled up a webpage with information about the man. “It seems he’s also looking for a suitable match,” she continued, glancing at his photo and pursing her lips.

You froze when you looked at the photo; he wasn’t at all what you expected. He appeared to be a mature, charismatic, and intelligent man. But how could you sit opposite this man and pretend to be someone else? The thought made you shudder, raising the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.

“As you can see, he’s much older than me. I don’t think he’ll tolerate disrespect. If you’re disrespectful to him, he might get annoyed and just leave the table,” she said with a chuckle.

You laughed too, but for a different reason. You were sure that if she went to the meeting herself, he would get up and leave when he saw her personality.

“I think you should go; maybe he won’t like you,” you suggested.

She narrowed her eyes at you like she'd just caught you saying something crazy. “He won’t like me? Seriously?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Anyway, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in the same room with that old man.”

As if I want it so much, you thought.

“Come on, please do this for me! I promise I’ll be good; I won’t make you work too hard. I’ll ask Dad to give you a nice raise,” she said, clasping her hands together and trying to look cute.

Well, good raise would mean you could quit your job and bail out of here earlier, right? You crossed your arms and glanced back at the laptop screen, staring at the photo of that guy—Harry Castillo. You made a decision that you had no idea would change everything in both his life and yours.

“Fine. When’s dinner?” you said, feeling a bit anxious.

“Oh, you’re the best! I knew you couldn’t say no!” she said excitedly. “This Saturday.”

“But that’s only two days away,” you pointed out, feeling even more nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all set. Just make sure you displease him,” she grinned.

You sighed deeply, already sure you’d regret this choice.

“Don’t you think this dress is a bit… exaggerated?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.

It was an elegant burgundy dress—strappy, satin, and adorned with pearl details—the kind of designer item you could never afford, even if you worked your entire life.

“Am I trying to make him hate me or make him fall for me?” you asked, frowning.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry; he’ll never fall in love with you,” she said arrogantly. This was typical behavior for her, so you chose to ignore it. “As much as you want to annoy him, remember that you represent me. I don’t want anyone gossiping that Melanie Johanson is wearing a lame dress,” she continued while picking out a matching purse.

“But everyone knows I’m not you, except that poor guy.”

“I don’t suppose you were planning to wear one of your own skimpy outfits,” she remarked. “Do you want our game to be exposed?”

That was too much—being scolded and being forced to do something so ridiculous for this spoiled girl.

“Fine, go to that dinner yourself then,” you said, slipping off your heels.

She grabbed your arms. “No, no, no, please. Okay, I’m sorry I was rude. But I need you; no one else would do something like this for me.”

“It’s good that you realize that,” you muttered.

“Here, take this; it’s time,” she said, giving you a smile.

Honestly, putting up with Melanie’s constant demands, cleaning up after her, and covering for her felt like child’s play compared to what you were facing tonight.

A nice raise, you keep telling yourself trying to soothe yourself. I’m doing this for my restaurant; I’ll get it started someday.

The restaurant was one of the most famous, expensive, and luxurious places in New York—somewhere you would never normally set foot in. But tonight, thanks to Melanie’s name, you could easily get in. You were overwhelmed by the incredibly polite behavior of the restaurant staff.

Melanie may have been extravagant and reckless, but she had thought of almost everything for tonight—from the driver who brought you here to the all restaurant staff.

All this effort was for one purpose: to rid herself of the matchmaker’s match.

When they took your fur coat at the entrance and told you that Mr. Castillo was waiting for you, you took a deep breath. After one step inside, when you saw him, you nearly backed away. Harry was busy on his phone, scribbling notes in his small notebook. He looked really sharp and stylish—way more handsome and appealing than in the photo.

Damn.

You wanted to escape; you wished to put an end to this nonsense before it even began. Without realizing it, your feet started to move backward. Just then, you turned around and accidentally bumped into the waiter behind you, causing him to drop the champagne glasses he was carrying on his tray. The glasses shattered, and champagne spilled all over his outfit. You cursed yourself for the mishap.

Before you could even respond, the waiter apologized. “No, it was my fault; I’m sorry,” you said nervously, trying to wipe off the champagne from his clothes.

The other waiter and the staff stared at you in shock.

Yes, you were a wealthy lady now, but what harm was there in being polite?

"No, ma'am, I should have been more careful," he said before turning and walking away.

"Miss Johnson?" said a soft, deep voice.

You turned around to meet him and felt almost breathless. There he was, few inches taller than you, with broad shoulders, curly hair, deep-set brown eyes, a sharp nose, and an attractive appearance.

"Melanie, right?"

"Y-yes," you stammered, batting your eyelashes.

And that smile! For a moment, the world seemed to stop; all the sounds in the restaurant faded, and you almost forgot why you were there.

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. It took you so long to look at his face that you nearly forgot to acknowledge his hand. He laughed again, that wonderful smile lighting up his face. "My hand has been waiting for a while," he said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush as you realized what he meant. "I'm sorry," you replied, quickly reaching out to shake his waiting hand. His hand was big and warm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. You knew you needed to work up the courage.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Shall we head to our table? Or do you want to stay here all night?”

“S-sure,” you said sheepishly.

Well, there wasn't much you could do about it. This wasn't just about him being wealthy or handsome. Even if it was a fake date, it had been years since you'd been on a date, and you didn’t know many men in your life.

Dinner was harder than you expected. Even though you and Melanie had practiced what you should and shouldn't say, your fears came to light. Harry seemed kind and understanding, and it was difficult to lie to him, which made you hate every minute of it. It got worse when he started grilling you with questions, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up with this silly game.

When you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you called Melanie.

"What do you mean he hasn't left the restaurant yet?"

"I don't know; the conversation got a little long, and he kept asking questions about me, I mean you."

"Do something to make him hate you already!"

“But how? Throw wine at him? This is all ridiculous. I think we should just tell the truth.”

"Don't you dare!" she barked.

Her voice was so loud that you had to smile apologetically when the other women in the ladies room looked at you strangely, hearing your end of the conversation.

"What am I supposed to do? Our plan isn't working."

“What's up with this guy? He should’ve bailed by now.” Melanie grunted.

“He seems nice—I doubt he’d be rude like that.”

“Rude! That’s the ticket; just be rude enough that he can’t stand it.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yep, you heard me. Just be as rude as you can.”

You let out a sigh, really wishing you could just bang your head against the wall right now.

“I said do it, or you'll ruin everything. Call me when you’re done.”

“But what am I gonna— Hello? Darn it!”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

She hung up.

You’ll have to be rude, how wonderful! But she was right; you needed to get rid of this man for the night to end and for you to return to your normal life. Why did he have to be so nice and kind? If he could ever act like a jerk, you would have done it by now, but he was just too sweet. As you looked in the mirror, you thought of all the rude things a lady wouldn’t normally do. Ah, that sounds familiar; it reminds you of Melanie herself. The very thought of her actions made you smile nervously. You took a deep breath and left the restroom.

Encouraging yourself, you gazed at Harry's handsome face from afar.

You can do it, you can do it...

Your first move: act indifferent.

You changed your facial expression as you approached the table and deliberately looked away from his face. He was smiling warmly at you. No, you couldn't look at him; it would only complicate everything. You were about to apologize for being late, but no, you can’t. Instead, you pulled your chair noisily on purpose, scraping its legs on the floor to create an annoying sound. You sat down and crossed your legs, positioning your body so it wasn't fully facing him. Harry seemed surprised by this sudden shift in your mood, but he didn’t comment.

A little later, as your desserts were served, he looked at you, “I like chocolate cake too, especially with pistachio sauce. We have similar tastes,” grinning at you.

You looked at him and then at the waiter. “I don’t want this,” you said angrily.

“But ma'am, you ordered it,” the poor man replied sheepishly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said. “I’ll go with the tiramisu,” you added after a quick look at the menu, making sure to glance away casually.

“Sure, I’ll change it right away,” he said, taking your plate and walking back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m great,” you lied, forcing a fake grin.

He didn’t ask any further questions, but he seemed to suspect something had changed. When the waiter brought your dessert, you decided to eat it rudely. You were sure Harry would be disgusted as you devoured your dessert quickly and rather rudely as if you were starving. You didn’t look at him again until you finished your plate. When you finally glanced up, your stomach feeling a bit nauseous, the look on his face was not what you had expected. He was smiling at you admiringly.

What the hell was that?

Shouldn’t he have shown disgust or displeasure, just like the people at the next table who were staring at you with disdain?

But not Harry, not him. Why, God, why?

As if teasing you, he laughed and reached for a napkin on the table, wiping the remnants of dessert from the corner of your lips. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

How could he be so nice, even after everything?

“Want to eat mine too?” he joked again. Clearly, you were amusing him instead of grossing him out. Ugh, just what you needed. Why was this so hard?

“It’s the cream in it,” you said, a bit defensive. If you were going to get into a battle of words, you might as well dive in.

When he looked at you, confused, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe you could annoy him with your gourmet knowledge.

“The Marsala wine is in the cream; it’s a secret recipe,” you said, trying to sound smart.

Harry paused eating his dessert, rested his elbow on the table, and gave you an admiring look. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into cooking. That wasn’t in the info.” That familiar warm smile was back.

Crap. Another mess-up.

“I get it—you’re keeping it under wraps from your dad. I want you to feel comfortable talking about your hobbies when you’re with me.”

When you’re with him? Damn, that was supposed to be the first and last time you saw him. You started playing with your fingers in your hair out of nervousness.

Think, think, think. All you had left was to use the only card you had.

“Look, Harry, I’ll be frank. I don’t plan to see you again.”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Didn’t you like me?” he asked softly.

Was it possible not to like this man? But damn it, you had to lie. You looked away; it was hard to read his expression.

“You’ve probably heard about me from the tabloids. I’m not the type of woman to get attached to just one man. My father put me up to this matchmaker thing; I didn’t intend to.” You admitted this indirectly. He deserved a little honesty, didn’t he? “I’ve had and will have many men in my life. I don’t plan to get married. I mean, you’re not special. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

When you looked at his face timidly, you realized you got the reaction you had been waiting for since the beginning of the night. His smile vanished; his expression hardened, and the color of his eyes darkened.

But why did your heart squeeze when you should have felt relieved?

When they brought your coat, you thanked them and turned to Harry for the last time. You would probably never see him again. You felt fortunate to have had the chance to meet and get to know this man, even briefly. He would probably forget you anyway; why would he remember you?

“Can I give you a ride home so we can end things on a good note?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

You definitely didn’t see that coming. You paused, trying to figure out what to say. It would’ve been easier to just say no, but his eyes were so mesmerizing that if he’d asked you to spill all your secrets right then, you might have done it without even thinking.

“Sure,” you replied, feeling shy.

When the valet brought Harry's car around, your jaw dropped. This black, late-model Mercedes Benz S was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Your interest in cars stemmed from your childhood; your mother always complained that you didn't like dresses and jewelry like other girls—rather, you liked cars. It was clear you were different, and you had always been that way.

Just like the situation you found yourself in now. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

The two of you were silent the entire ride. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his gaze on you out of the corner of your eye. However, you were more captivated by the interior of the car. When would you ever get to ride in such a luxury vehicle again? It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look. As you glanced towards his side to check out the control panel and see how much horsepower the car had, he caught your eye, causing you to quickly turn your head away. You had to suppress your curiosity.

"We’ll turn right here," you said as you approached the junction. Down the street, the giant mansion loomed, so close to your destination. You stole a quick glance at him, realizing this might be the only time you would see this man in person. You wanted to remember his handsome face.

Suddenly, Harry slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him, startled that he had stopped so abruptly near the mansion. What had caused him to suddenly halt? He didn’t say a word, just stared at you, and his eyes seemed to communicate something intense. Was he angry and no longer wanting your company?

You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Stay still,” he said as he unlocked the car doors.

What was he implying? He walked around the front of the car, reached your side, and opened your door.

Was this chivalry? If so, why did he stay away from the mansion?

“Aren’t you getting out?” His voice was kinda cold.

You didn’t know how to respond. You stepped out of the car without saying a word.

“Thanks for the ride—”

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm—not roughly, but with a firm, questioning grip. His gaze was intense, but why did he look that way? Had he figured it all out? Maybe he was about to confront you for making a fool of yourself. After all, you had been willing to be open, and now you felt you deserved it. But you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so you lowered your head.

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Shit.

You swallowed hard; this was the moment you had dreaded.

“I-I…”

What were you going to say? How would you even say it?

You were fucked.

Suddenly, Harry pinched your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him while his other hand rested on your waist. He tilted his head toward you, his hot breath brushing against your face, making your heart race. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel your throat going dry. What the hell was he going to do? Kissing you or scolding you? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled you closer by the arm around your waist and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you kissed someone, so you were almost shocked by his sudden kiss. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, you finally closed your eyes and surrendered to him completely. Your surrendering gave him courage and he deepened the kiss, his hot tongue licking your lips and forcing them apart. While his expert hand lingered on the swell of your breasts teasingly, you moaned and opened your mouth for him and when his tongue touched yours, you could still taste the chocolate from the dessert he had just eaten.

But suddenly, Harry pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and all contact. Instinctively mesmerized, you leaned forward, eyes closed and mouth agape. When you finally opened your eyes, you caught him snickering, and as the embarrassment of the situation hit you, you wished you could disappear. You instinctively pressed your hand to your burning lips and pressed hem together. Harry licked his lips and grinned. "Just as I predicted. You lied to me. There's no way another man has touched you recently."

For a second, your mind went blank, and you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. What the heck did he mean by that? "Y-you... w-what..." Great, now you couldn't even put together a simple sentence.

What next?

Just then, your phone started ringing. When you opened your purse to get it, Harry reached for it before you could. Fortunately, you had saved Melanie in your phone under a special nickname, not her real name. Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise and amusement. "Trouble?"

Yes, you had saved her as trouble.

"Can you hand my phone back, please?" you said, holding out your hands, but he caught them with one hand and gently pushed them away.

“Your trouble can wait,” he said, rejecting Melanie’s call. He dialed a number on your phone, but realized what he was doing when his own phone started ringing.

“There, now you have my number,” he said, handing your phone back to you.

You frowned and grabbed your phone angrily, "What makes you think I’d actually call you?"

Harry shrugged, pursing his lips. “Shouldn't I call you before I come to pick you up for our next date? I guess I could just come by your house and honk the horn instead.”

“What?” you exclaimed.

He grinned.

You took a deep breath to release some of your tension. “Harry, why are you doing this? There won’t be a next date; I told you that.”

“One chance,” he said firmly.

“A chance of what?”

"I want you to give me a chance. A real date. If, at the end of the night, you still feel the same way, I promise you’ll never see me again."

You shook your head. "But why? You’re a man who can have any woman you want. You’re rich, handsome, and kind—why waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you?"

You saw something in his brown eyes, something you couldn’t quite identify, but it was intense. “Because you're different from others,” he said sharply. “True, women are not unattainable for me; they are always around. But what I want is someone special, and I feel that you are the one. There’s something about you that has ignited something in me I haven't felt in a long time. I must admit, I'm surprised; I never thought I’d be attracted to you after reading the news about you, but it seems I was wrong. Can you give me a chance? Please?”

Oh, Harry, there’s so much you don’t know, you thought. Your heart was fluttering at the thought of saying yes, but how could you? How dare you? You weren’t Melanie, the daughter of a wealthy businessman; you were just an ordinary girl.

“You know I won’t leave without hearing your answer, right?” He grunted.

Just then, you heard a car approaching, and you freaked out. That was Melanie’s dad’s car. Your heart nearly stopped.

“You have to go, like, now!” you yelled in a panic.

“First, say yes,” he replied, frowning.

"Si, yes, okay, alright! But please, go now!" you urged, pushing him toward the back of his car. He chuckled in response.

You crouched down to hide your face as the other car drove toward the mansion and pulled him down with you.

“I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” he admitted, snickering.

“Is that so funny?” you snapped.

"Okay, I get that you don’t want your dad to see us like this, and I’m curious why, but since you said yes, I’ll be a good guy and leave."

“Yes you do that,” you said with a sigh.

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and waved it before getting into his car. “You’d better answer it when I call,” he said, getting inside. He winked at your puzzled expression and started the engine. His car quickly disappeared from sight along the road. You turned toward the mansion, exhaled deeply, and murmured to yourself.

“I'm so fucked.”

thanks for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #the materialist #harry castillo #materialists #harry castillo x reader #randy castillo

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pastryfication · 9 months ago

Text

fan interactions | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x shy!reader

summary: you tend to shy away from all interactions and oscar has never had a problem with that. he can’t deny that seeing you interact with his fans isn’t a sight he enjoys, though.

warnings: none!!

every race weekend you are able to attend follows a familiar pattern for you: you arrive at the track with oscar, your heart pounding with excitement and anxiety as the noise, the crowds and the high energy overwhelming you. sticking close to your boyfriend’s side, holding onto his arms or hand is the best comfort you can get. oscar’s presence beside you acts as your shield, your safe haven in the whirlwind of it all.

today is no different. as you walk through the bustling paddock, you stick close to oscar, basically hiding behind him. he holds your hand reassuringly, his touch grounding you in the chaos and you enjoy being able to cling to him. you know he understands how you feel, always making sure you’re comfortable, never pushing you to interact more than you’re ready for, and you appreciate it so much. all of your life, people have tried to force you into becoming more social, but it never helped you, only made you more uncomfortable, so oscar’s understanding means the world.

today, though, something unexpected happens. as you pass by a group of fans, one of them, a young girl with a friendly smile, catches your eye. she steps forward, her excitement palpable.

“hi!” she exclaims. “you’re oscar’s girlfriend, right?” her are eyes wide with admiration as she questions you.

you nod shyly, trying to force your voice above a whisper. “yes, i am.”

the fan beams at you, reaching into her bag. “i made this for you. it’s a bracelet with oscar’s racing colours and his number! i hope you like it.”

she hands you a beautiful bracelet woven with intricate patterns in orange and gold. your heart swells with warmth at the kind gesture. “thank you so much, it’s lovely,” you say softly, your fingers trembling slightly as you take the bracelet and slips it around your wrist.

“can i take a picture of you wearing it?” the fan asks, her eyes sparkling with hope.

overwhelmed by the attention, you try your best to seem calm and confident, but your hands are shaking slightly as you nod your head.

the fan takes a quick photo while you muster up your best smile. her gratitude is evident in her eyes as she thanks you. “thank you so so much! you’re so sweet.”

you manage a small genuine smile in return, feeling a mix of nerves and happiness. as the fan takes a step back, you turn to catch up with your boyfriend. when he feels your presence besides him, oscar turns to you, his eyes full of pride.

“you handled that so well,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “i know it’s not easy for you, but you were amazing.”

you blush, looking down at the bracelet. “i was so nervous,” you laugh awkwardly. “but she was really nice.”

oscar chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “you were adorable. i think it’s cute how shy you get. and i love seeing you smile like that.”

your heart flutters at his words, butterflies forming in your stomach. being with oscar made you feel so special. something about his intense attention and affection makes you feel like the most important person in the world. moments like these only work to further remind you just how deeply he understands and appreciates you. you lean into him, wrapping your hands around his bicep as you continue walking into the paddock.

“thank you,” you whisper, grateful for his constant support. “i really don’t know what i’d do without you.”

he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to do anything alone. i’m always gonna be here for you.”

his promise makes a brighter, even more beautiful smile appear on your face. walking towards the mclaren hospitality, feeling his soft skin beneath your fingers reminds you just how lucky you are. the luckiest girl in the world perhaps.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #mclaren #mclaren racing #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #oscar piastri x yn #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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rafesbabyg1rl · 4 months ago

Note

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there.

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back.

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is.

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.”

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks.

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you.

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you.

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight.

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face.

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream.

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man.

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away.

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this.

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.”

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low.

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately.

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly.

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this.

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good…give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger.

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need.

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t.

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you.

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process.

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you.

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine.

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you.

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud.

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?”

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him.

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum.

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm.

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere.

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with.

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter.

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs.

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet.

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself.

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries.

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue.

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him.

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of.

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh.

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction.

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle.

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut.

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead.

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did.

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…”

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm.

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.”

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly.

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self.

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your��boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously.

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.”

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again, passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was.

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you.

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole.

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?”

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

680 notes · View notes

wvyik · 1 month ago

Text

you wanna?.. d.w. ᝰ.ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; dean’s been acting weird all morning, but you don’t think much of it — until he casually slides something across the table between bites of waffles. And just like that, your whole world tilts.

warnings; mdni!! pre-established relationship, aggressively casual proposal, dean being a menace as usual, fluff so sweet it might kill you!!… eventual smut (because let’s be real, this man does not propose without following through. is skip able though!!). dirty talk, dom! dean, oral sex, praise kink, unprotected sex, after care cause ima softie.

notes; AHH!! had so much fun with this one. tysm for all the support >ᴗ< i appreciate you all!! tbh this is the best thing I’ve ever written in a while. we love dean with a happy ending. ꒰˶ - ˕ -꒱ buckle up for the spicy stuff later!! as always, feel free to drop a comment or yell at me if you’re feeling some type of way about this. i’m here for it.

words; 4420

It’s early. Too early.

You’re exhausted in that way only hunters understand— the kind that seeps into your bones, makes your muscles ache, keeps you in that hazy space between asleep and awake, even with a steaming cup of coffee cradled between your hands.

Dean, of course, looks annoyingly good for someone who barely got any sleep. His hair is a mess, there’s a fading bruise on his jaw from last night’s hunt, but he’s still effortlessly him — green eyes warm with amusement, shoulders relaxed, mouth curling into a smirk as he watches you fight to keep your eyes open.

“You look like you got run over,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

You take a slow sip of your coffee, staring at him blankly. “Thanks. You always know just what to say.”

He chuckles, reaching for his own mug. “Just speakin’ the truth, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Not now, anyway. You’re definitely too tired for that.

The sound of Dean shuffling around the motel room pulls you out of your half-sleep. You crack open one eye, only to find him already dressed, boots laced up, and pacing with that ‘we’re about to hit the road’ look in his eyes. His leather jacket is hanging on the back of the chair.

You rub your eyes, groaning, and try to keep the sleepiness from spilling out of you. “Do we really have to go now?”

Dean grins, not even bothering to look at you. “You know how I feel about sitting still.”

You roll your eyes again, itching to bargain with him, but knowing if you did, he’d just drag you into whatever shenanigans he had planned for the day anyway. After a couple of minutes, the room starts to feel too small, and the silence is making your head spin, so you sit up. The plan— at least, the unspoken one — was to hit the road after a quick breakfast, and you’ve learned that when Dean Winchester says quick, he means quick.

The car ride isn’t long. Dean’s humming along to the radio, steering with one hand as he swerves around potholes, and you’re trying to ignore how damn good he looks in the morning light filtering through the car windows. Eventually, the sound of the engine and the warmth of the sun lull you into a comfortable quiet. You’re barely paying attention when you both pull up to an old diner on the side of the highway, a place that looks like it’s been around longer than you’ve been alive.

Dean parks and shoots you a look and smirks. “I’ll bet you ten bucks the pie here could change your life.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. You know better than to doubt him by now.

The diner is quiet, just a few truckers scattered at the counter, the hum of conversation mixing with the low crackle of an old radio playing Blue Öyster Cult in the background. The air smells like burnt coffee and bacon grease, and the vinyl booth seat sticks slightly to your thigh where your jeans have a tear, but it’s…nice.

Comfortable.

It’s one of those rare, normal mornings. No hunts lined up. No immediate danger. Just you, Dean, and a crappy little diner on the side of the road.

You should’ve known he was up to something.

Dean’s been acting weird all morning.

Not in an obvious way. He’s still teasing you, still stuffing his face with an ungodly amount of waffles and bacon, still shooting you that signature smirk every time you make a face at him.

But his knee is bouncing under the table. His fingers keep drumming against his coffee cup. And every once in a while, you catch him looking at you — this soft, thoughtful expression flickering across his face before he shakes it off.

You think about asking. But then your waitress swings by again, and Dean immediately perks up, flashing her a charming smile as she tops off his coffee.

“Another round of waffles, darlin’?” she asks, clearly smitten. You don’t blame her.

You smile softly behind your mug as Dean leans back, cocky as ever. “Wouldn’t say no.”

The waitress laughs, shaking her head. “You got a hell of an appetite.”

“That’s what she said,” Dean mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table. He deserved that one.

By the time the waitress walks away, Dean is already back to his food, completely unfazed. You shake your head, cutting into your own waffle, stealing one of his bacon strips just to be a menace. He lets you.

And then— casual as anything, like he’s commenting on the weather— he reaches into his pocket, pulls out something, and slides it across the table toward you.

A ring.

Just sitting there. Between your plate and the salt shaker.

Your brain short-circuits. You stare at it, then at him. Then back at it.

Dean, the absolute menace that he is, doesn’t even look up from his food. Just swipes some syrup with his fork, chews, and— without a single ounce of drama — says,

“You wanna?”

You blink. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Because what the hell is happening right now?

Dean finally looks at you, chewing like this is just another Thursday.

“What?” he says around a mouthful of food.

Your heart is slamming against your ribs. You feel warm all over, but you can’t tell if it’s from the crappy diner coffee or the fact that Dean Winchester just proposed to you like he was offering you the last french fry.

“That’s your proposal?” Your voice comes out hoarse, disbelief and laughter mixing in your throat.

Dean tilts his head, squinting at you. “What, you want me to get down on one knee in a greasy diner?”

“You literally just slid it across the table like it was a packet of sugar!”

He shrugs, still watching you, still unreadable in that way that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t exactly my style, sweetheart.”

Your fingers shake as you reach for the ring. It’s simple— silver, understated, perfect. It feels warm from being in his pocket, the edges smooth against your skin.

Dean’s watching you carefully now. The teasing is gone, replaced by something softer, something quieter.

And that’s when it hits you.

Dean Winchester— who has faced monsters, demons, literal hell — is nervous. Like he’s bracing for impact. Like there’s a real, tangible fear in him that you might say no.

Your throat tightens.

“You really want this?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean exhales through his nose, sets his fork down. He leans forward slightly, arms resting on the table, eyes locked onto yours.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice steady now, sure in a way that makes you melt. “I already got you. This is just making it official.”

Your heart stumbles. Because of course he’d say it like that. Like it was never even a question, like you already belonged to each other. Like you always would.

The ring feels solid between your fingers, grounding. It’s not grand or flashy. It’s him. It’s you. It’s perfect.

And god,

You don’t cry, but it’s a close thing.

You swallow hard, slip it onto your finger. It fits like it was meant to.

Dean watches, lets out a breath like he was holding it for years, and then— because you know him, because you love him— you smirk and say,

“You better get me a pie for this.”

That knocks the tension right out of him. His mouth quirks, the easy grin sliding back into place. “Damn right, I will.”

And just like that, you’re engaged. Not with a big speech. Not with grand gestures. Just this. Just him.

In a tiny diner off the highway, with bad coffee and waffles and the love of your life sitting across from you, grinning like a fool.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions building up in your chest. You weren’t expecting this. Hell, you didn’t even know you needed it. But now that it’s here, now that he’s here, you feel like your whole world is shifting into place.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

Dean chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “You’re the one that’s perfect, sweetheart. I’m just lucky.”

You shake your head slightly, not sure how to respond. You’ve been together for so long now, and yet, this moment still feels like a beginning. Like everything that came before— every hunt, every stupid argument, every late-night conversation— it was all leading to this. To this small, simple, perfect moment in a stupid dingy diner.

Dean cups your face, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly at him. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, and for once, you see a rawness that he doesn’t always show.

“You know that’s the thing,” he murmurs. “It’s not about what you deserve. It’s about what you’re willing to fight for. And you—” He pauses, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “You’re worth every damn fight, sweetheart. Always will be.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you realize you’re not even breathing properly. It’s overwhelming, the way he can say so much with so little. His words hit you deeper than you expected, more than you thought you needed.

“I’m in this. All the way, okay?” he says softly, like he’s reminding you, like he’s trying to make sure you know it, truly know it. “I don’t do half-assed. Not with you.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, the emotions bubbling up.

His lips press against your forehead, soft and tender. And in that moment, you know—you know—that you’re not just his. He’s yours too. No matter what comes next, you’re a team.

Dean pulls back, a playful smile tugging at his lips again, trying to break the weight of the moment. “So, uh, you think I could maybe get a little ‘yes’ out of you? Just a tiny one?”

You laugh softly, your chest full. You tilt your head, looking up at him with a smile that feels too big for your face. “Yeah. Yeah, you could.”

Dean’s eyes light up, a twinkle in them like he’s won the lottery, like this was the answer he’s been waiting for. He presses another kiss to your lips—brief, but meaningful.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe. Like the world, in all its chaos, has paused just for you two. Like nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You know there will be bad days, tough hunts, and fights, but for now, this moment is enough. This love is enough.

And you, you finally feel like you’ve found where you belong.

“Guess we should finish our waffles, huh?” Dean says, the mood lightening again, but his hand still resting on yours.

You chuckle, your heart still racing. “Yeah. But let’s take it slow, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Dean grins, that cocky, perfect grin you know so well. “Works for me.”

As you both finish your meal— laughing, talking about whatever random thing crosses your mind— there’s an understanding between you two now. You don’t need big gestures or flashy moments to know what’s real.

What’s real is here. What’s real is you two.

And it’s always been that way.

Back in the motel room, the door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud. The dim light from the lamp on the nightstand cast long shadows across the room, the only sound the faint hum of the old air conditioning. The weight of the night pressed in on you— quiet, comfortable, and full of possibilities you weren’t ready to voice just yet.

Dean kicked off his boots and tossed his jacket onto the chair by the door, then turned to face you. There was something different in his eyes now, something deeper, as if the last few hours had opened up a door neither of you could walk away from.

You stood by the bed, your heart thumping in your chest, but your feet seemed glued to the floor, unsure of what came next. His gaze flickered down to your hand, still resting in his from the diner, then back up to your face. That smile— always so effortless, so charming— pulled at the corner of his lips.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft, but with that low, steady warmth you knew so well.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your words barely escaping as your breath hitched. Your heart was racing, but you felt rooted to the spot, unsure if you should make the first move or wait for him to pull you in again.

Dean’s eyes never left yours as he slowly closed the distance between you, his movements slow, deliberate. You could feel the space between you getting smaller, the air in the room suddenly feeling thicker, charged with that same electricity you couldn’t ignore.

When he finally reached you, his hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, but there was no mistaking the heat in his fingers, the way they lingered just a little longer than necessary, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, eyes fluttering shut for a second, just to take in the moment. He was so close now. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, close enough that the faint scent of the leather jacket he had left behind filled your senses.

Dean’s lips brushed against yours with a familiarity that made your heart skip a beat. This wasn’t the first time— far from it— but each time felt like it was. Every kiss was still a little bit like a spark, each one lighting a new fire. And tonight, there was something different. Something deeper, even though you’d been here before.

His fingers trailed down your arm again, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of it. You shifted beneath him, feeling the tension of the moment settle between your legs, but it wasn’t rushed. It never was with him.

“You know what you do to me, right?” Dean’s voice was low, rougher now, but laced with that familiar tenderness. He didn’t need to say it, not really. You could feel it in every touch, every lingering kiss.

You nodded, your lips parting as you leaned up to meet him halfway, pressing your body closer to his. You’d been here before, but that didn’t mean it ever lost its power. It was still just as electrifying, just as sweet.

His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, pausing for just a moment as his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any hesitation. But there was none. You didn’t need words; your body told him everything. Your jeans met the floor with a slight thud.

With a deep, almost frustrated sigh, Dean pushed your jeans down just enough to slide his hand under them, his fingers skating over the curve of your hip. It was familiar, comforting even, but the way he touched you now felt different. There was a slowness, an intentional care in every movement. Like he wanted to savor you this time.

His lips met yours again, but this kiss was slower, more languid, as if he was taking his time, soaking in the moment. He kissed you like he was letting his feelings pour into every movement, every press of his lips, until the rest of the world disappeared.

“You make me forget everything else, you know that?” Dean’s breath was hot against your ear, his hands expertly undressing you, but it was still slow. As if he was enjoying the feel of your skin more than the outcome of it. You could tell that this wasn’t about rushing, about getting to the end. This was about being with you, right here, right now.

You breathed his name again, a plea more than a whisper, and Dean, ever the attentive lover, responded immediately, his lips trailing down your neck, to your chest, as his hand wandered over you, knowing exactly where to touch to make your breath hitch.

But this time, it wasn’t about the heat of the moment— it was about the slow, delicious build of something bigger. His lips left a trail of soft, lingering kisses across your skin as his hand gently slid down your side, his touch grounding you to the bed. His body moved against yours with that familiar rhythm, but tonight, it felt like it meant more. Like you meant more.

He paused for just a moment, looking at you with those eyes—dark and soft all at once. “I love you, ‘s fucking much. I wanna make you feel so good, baby.” His voice was thick with something deep, something serious, and it made your chest tighten with emotion.

You nodded, pulling him back to you, pressing your lips to his with a fierce intensity. It wasn’t just the physical connection anymore. This was something that went deeper, something stronger than before. And you wanted it. You wanted him.

Dean groaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he moved between your legs. You moan, as he skillfully worked his fingers in you, slowly climbing on top of you— as your head hit the not-so-soft pillows on the bed. You could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong.

“Dean…” The word came out like a breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you tugged him back up, wanting his lips on yours again. He smirked, just slightly, but there was nothing playful in the way his eyes held yours. It was all raw, all real.

“Easy,” he whispered, voice gruff but gentle as his thumb traced over your lip. “Atta girl, doing so good for me.. Don’t worry bout’ it, we can take your time.”

You nodded, your eyes heavy with desire but filled with trust. “I need you, De..” Your voice was soft, but there was a definite edge to it. The words felt like they had weight, like they meant something. Something more than just this moment.

He exhaled deeply, eyes darkening as his hand slid to your waist, guiding you beneath him as he moved down on you, slipping your panties fully off. The space between you was so minimal now that it felt like you were one.

His mouth lightly sucked on your needy clit, his thick fingers still working their magic inside you. You couldn’t help but let out an almost pornographic moan. You were so close, he could tell.

“Mhm, honey.. let it out, cum on my face,” he whispered against your needy pussy. The stubble on his jaw teasing you even more, as he practically buried his face in your wetness.

Oh, you were a goner. “Dean— fuck, I’m gonna—“ You didn’t even finish your sentence as the orgasm came rushing through you. As dean still worked, still slurping up your juices in his mouth like his life depended on it.

He finally let his face out of between your thighs, kissing you gently— letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re incredible,” Dean muttered, his voice raw as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “Never forget that.”

You met his gaze, your chest tight with emotion. “I won’t. Not with you.”

Dean’s lips found yours in a deep kiss, and as he slowly pulled back, his hand moved to your waist, gently coaxing your hips up against his. His jeans came off, so did the shirt — the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, and you felt a rush of heat flood your body again. He was so close, and yet, there was still something in the way he touched you that made everything feel like it was building to something more.

“Don’t tease me,” you whispered, your voice a little breathless, but there was a hint of playfulness too—something you knew he’d pick up on.

He smirked, his lips brushing your jaw as his body settled between your legs. “Me? Tease?” His voice was a teasing mockery of innocence, but there was nothing innocent in the way he touched you, nothing at all.

“Oh, yeah, and this? Off.” He gestured to your shirt, earning a chuckle from you. He skillfully pulled the shirt off of you, unclasping your bra with ease, gently touching up on your breasts.

Dean’s eyes never left yours, that fire still burning in them, but there was a softness there too, a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like a prayer. His lips moved to your neck again.

You looked at him wide-eyed, as he pressed his lips back onto yours briefly, before sliding one hand down his boxers, pulling his hard cock out of its confinements, already leaking with pre-cum. You never get tired of seeing it, really.

There’s a hunger in his gaze, but it’s a hunger you recognize—one that’s been building between you two, one that isn’t just about tonight. It’s deeper, quieter, but oh so real.

“Y’ ready for me?..” he murmured, and you could only respond with a soft ‘mhm’ sound, too turned on to make any proper sentence.

You’re not just the next moment in line for him— you’re everything. His hand on your skin, his body pressed to yours, it’s all proof of the quiet trust that’s been growing between you since day one.

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, as he slowly pushes inside of you, his heart beating steady against yours. It’s like he’s giving you all of him, in this simple, quiet way, and you know you have his heart just as much as he has yours

“That’s it— Jesus, sweetheart. You’re still so fucking tight, can’t believe it’” he chuckles slowly, and you whimper when he finally gives all of himself for you. And he waits for your permission to start moving.

“De.. okay— you can move.” You manage to say breathlessly after a little bit. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, though. As he slowly moves in and out you swear you see stars. And gosh, the sounds that fill the room, it’s so goddamn good, you think before biting down the moan.

“Mhm, yeah.. So fuckin’ perfect, angel, you’re doing so well for me.” He almost whimpered. Goddamn you, Dean — And your filthy mouth.

His lips found yours again, and the kiss was deeper this time— full of assurance, of trust, of a promise that nothing could tear apart. You could feel how much he believed in the two of you, in the bond you shared.

His hands roamed your body, confident and firm, like he knew exactly where to touch to make you lose your breath. Every movement was purposeful, a teasing promise of what was to come.

“De— m’ so close, please” you managed to whimper through the moans, trying to keep up with his pace with your hips.

His lips lingered along your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, his breath hot against your ear. “I know baby, me too. You can come, sweetness, m’ right there with you.” he murmured, his voice a hushed growl that sent shivers down your spine.

As you both reached your climax, you can’t help but smile. After the world-shifting intensity of the moment, you both lay there, tangled up in sheets and each other. Dean shifted just enough to pull you close, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm against yours, as though he was grounding himself in the softness of your presence.

His fingers brushed gently through your hair, the touch so tender it was almost as if he was trying to memorize every strand, every curve of you. The warmth between you didn’t need words; it was enough to feel him there, still connected to you in every possible way.

“Are you okay?” Dean’s voice was low, but it carried that softness you’d only hear when the walls were down and he wasn’t trying to hide anything. There was a genuine worry in his tone, an unwavering need to make sure you were feeling just as safe and cared for as he felt.

You nodded against his chest, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat that reminded you of the calm after the storm. “I’m perfect,” you whispered, your voice still a little breathless, but full of warmth.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting, like it always was when he felt content. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, pulling you closer, his arm draping over you protectively as if making sure you stayed there, safe in his arms.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the gesture soft and caring, his way of showing that there was more to him than just the physical connection. It was always about the little things—the way his touch lingered, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

There was no rush to get up, no need to fill the space with words that didn’t need to be said. You both understood each other in the quiet.

Dean’s thumb brushed against your hand in a rhythm that made you feel grounded, like he was telling you he was there in ways that didn’t need to be explained. Slowly, you let your eyes flutter closed, wrapped in the softness of his care, feeling safer than you had ever felt.

He kissed your forehead again, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re good, you and me. Always gonna be good.”

And in that moment, with the faintest smile tugging at your lips, you knew he meant every word. The world outside the room didn’t matter, not when you had this—this peace, this love, this feeling of being completely and utterly cared for.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading pooks! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

#༊*·˚ wvyik #sofia writes ✎#dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #jensen ackles x reader #smut #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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i9messi · 3 months ago

Text

She's my lady — Charles Leclerc

You're a figure skater competing in the Winter Olympics and Charles doesn't hide he is your biggest fan.

note: i know winter olympics are in 2026, but let's pretend they are in 2025 for the sake of this fic. also, reader and charles are in an established relationship.

smau

MASTERLIST

yourusername

holidays with you 🤍 charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussel53, carmenmmundt and 656.876 others

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user1 so beautiful

user2 did she spend holidays with charles' family?

user3 yesss, she spent holidays with her own family (of course george was there) and the leclercs

carmenmmundt I love you, angel 😇

yourusername I love you too bonita

charles_leclerc I don't have enough words to describe how much I love you, I guess I need to remind you right now. Let the phone and come with me, I miss you

yourusername omg Charles ☺️ I love you, wait for me

georgerussel63 😡

yourusername say something nice or I'll block you

georgerussel63 okay, I love you and I guess your relationship with Charles is fine

yourusername I love you big bro

yourfriend miss uu

yourusername i miss you more

yourusername

i'm back ⛸️

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 788.563 others

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user1 YESSSSSS

user2 counting the days to see her in the winter olympics

arthur_leclerc you're awesome!

❤️ liked by yourusername

francisca.cgomes teach me how to skate on ice pls

yourusername whenever you want🤍

francisca.cgomes are you free tomorrow?

yourusername of course, send me a text xx

charles_leclerc you're so special to me, I love you

georgerussel63 oh stop being so annoying, carlossainz55 come to help me and say something to him

carlossainz55 charles man, stop setting the bar too high

charles_leclerc I'll never stop

yourusername 🤭

charles_leclerc

my beautiful girl, good luck on the winter olympics. I am already proud of you and I'm the luckiest man to have you

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1.245.355 others

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user1 I don't know anything about figure skating, someone explain

user2 she's competing in the winter olympics, a championship of sports related with ice. she's in the category women's singles, which means she doesnt have a partner, she skates alone

user3 is she good?

user2 yess, she has medals already

yourusername i love youuuu, thank you for the support baby

charles_leclerc have I told you i'm your biggest fan?

user4 can you fight?

charles_leclerc yes.

maxverstappen1 good luck on the winter olympics yourusername!

yourusername thank you max🥹

user5 two of the current best athetles in the world interacting wih each other. oh, and they also are charles girlfriend and boyfriend

charles_leclerc just posted a story

caption: so much talent, so much passion. it's you, it's always you

yourusername

next round!

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, georgerussel63 and 766.887 others

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charles_leclerc I LOVE YOUUUUU

charles_leclerc YOU WERE INCREDIBLE

charles_leclerc YOU'RE EVERYTHING

user1 and you're just ken

user2 i want a man like charles

user3 i want a gf like y/n

georgerussel63 that's my little sis!

❤️ liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri good luck mom

yourusername thank you son xx

user4 charles and his gf adopting oscar as their son is making me really happy

landonorris are cute girls there? invite me next time

yourusername even if i know i really want to win, i don't need you distracting all the girls around

user5 she was so good, I loved her performance!

user6 she's my favourite figure skater in the championship

charles_leclerc just posted a story

caption: my lady won a medal!

charles_leclerc

I know how hard you have been working to win a medal and make us proud. You won, baby. I just see how lucky I am to have you and I'm so happy with the fact the people now can see how talented and wonderful you are. You're kind and a beautiful soul. I love you so much. You make me proud, just want to tell the world how much I love you. Forever yours, Charles.

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 2.345.454 others

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yourusername oh charles baby 🥹 i'm yours and i love you. thank you for all the support you gave me during these last weeks and for your kind words🤍

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️

user1 can charles fight? like for real, can he really fight?

charles_leclerc I would murder for her

user1 okay sorry sir

charles_leclerc she's my lady in case you have forgotten

user2 you never made us forget she's your lady, you're like always remembering us

maxverstappen1 we lost him

landonorris you mean, you lost your boyfriend

maxverstappen1 shut up

user3 get a man who posts about you and writes cute words for you

user5 the bar was never too high like now

yourusername

I won a medal and my boyfriend proposed: luckiest girl alive

liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt, georgerussel63 and 1.726.875

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georgerussel63 my little sis is gonna get married, i'm already crying

yourusername I'm not that little anymore

georgerussel63 you'll always be a baby

yourusername fine, old man

carmenmmundt congrats beautiful❤️

yourusername will you be my bridesmaid?

carmenmmundt omg yesss

francisca.cgomes oh my godness, i'm so happy for you!!!

❤️ liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri yesss, congrats for the medal and for the ring

user1 how do you feel about your parents getting married?

oscarpiastri i'm now a happy kid

yourusername i love you son 🤍

oscarpiastri I love you mom❤️

landonorris yessssss, congrats you two!

user2 omgggggg I knew it

user3 rumors were true

charles_leclerc

she said yes, and now I can say "SHE'S MY WIFE!!!!!!! HAVE YOU SEEN HER? SHE'S INCREDIBLE"

liked by yourusername, georgerussel63, maxverstappen1 and 2.654.876 others

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yourusername oh boy, you're making me cry again. I love you lots, you're the best thing that ever happened to me🤍

charles_leclerc I love you wife❤️❤️❤️

maxverstappen1 congrats!

yourusername charles still loves you

maxverstappen1 what? don't say shit like that

yourusername i'll keep your secret

user1 adopt me pls

oscarpiastri no, I don't want a sibling

user2 it's a love story and she said yes ❤️

#charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc story #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc social media au #f1 #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 fandom #leclerc #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shots

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cherry-pop-elf · 4 months ago

Text

Kiss it Better Pt:2

Curly x Reader

AN: Holy shit I did NOT expect all the love and support from the original like god damn! People begging for a part 2 and everything (I’ll make sure to tag those who asked for one at the bottom) Like oh my god thank you guys so much! This means the WORLD to me! As a disabled person trying to make his medical issues more accurate it means so much that yall love it and how I write in general! Thank you!

SUM: You and Anya were busy dealing with changing Curly’s wrappings together. Sharing stories, and just trying to stay positive. That’s when you just had to ask. What’s going on between her and Jimmy?

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, Anya sharing her trauma so pls take care of yourself, medical gore, medical situations, light violence,

“Thank you again for handling Curly’s medication. I’m sorry I just-“ Anya would try to explain again how sorry she was that she was struggling to do her job. A job you could never blame her for. She’s been through a traumatic event of the ship crashing, and already had to try and save a near corpse. She deserves to breathe.

“Anya it’s fine, really. I’m his romantic partner as well. It be weird if I didn’t pick up some responsibility and tried to take care of him. You also deserve time to rest. You’ve done so much for him, and saved his life. Give yourself more credit. It’s not a sin to ask for help.” You would try and comfort her, as you would grab the fresh bandages for Curly.

He needed a lot of them, and they had to be changed out relatively often. He’s basically just exposed meat after all. The risk of infection was high, which you were wondering how he didn’t even catch any yet, so he needed alot of attention and care.

If only Pony Express had packed more, because the med bay was running out of them fast. Very very fast. Might be only able to maybe re wrap him a few more times now. Had you terrified because as much as you wanted to take care of him you had to leave some bandages for the rest of the crew. In case of another emergency.

You wish you could be doing more.

“We’re going to undress you. Is that alright?” Anya would ask Curly, who in return would give two blinks to indicate that he consented to being stripped. Was gonna have to be done but it was still so kind of Anya to still ask before hand.

The two of you would soon get to work on changing out his bandages. A very slow, careful, tedious job. One that normally took over a hour to do properly. So it’s time to kill some of that empty space.

“Ya know, this isn’t the first time over had to wrap up a certain someone because they got hurt. I remember a time when we were at a Ski resort with his family. Someone wanted to try a path that was meant for experts and before you know it someone’s returning to the lodge with his leg bone sticking out of his pants.”

Anya gave a little ‘oh my’ as you just laughed at the memory. Curly just adored sports. Especially the winter variety. You felt so blessed that he had a job that paid so well. Well enough that the two of you, and his own family sometimes, could go and enjoy vacations like that.

You wonder if the two of you will ever see the snow again.

“That sounds rather nice, minus the whole breaking his leg. To share a cabin together with someone. Cuddle for warmth together by the fire place. Sounds really nice.” She would speak dreamily. As if she knew it was simply that. A dream. Something that will never happen again. No matter how hard she tried.

Like something was wrong with her.

“I bet you’ll get that moment. When we escape here you’ll have a flooding of men and women coming your way. The brilliant woman who managed to fight death and win. Again and again. The most brilliant woman to ever live.” You would praise her, as you were very mindful of Curly’s catheter. As if that needed to be messed with.

“Yeah…..Maybe……” Anya didn’t really seem to actually respond. Was like she was just saying words for the sake of words. Had you wondering.

Even before the crash she had just started acting off one day. From being a cheerful woman who was gentle and full of smiles, to being so quiet and scared by the littlest of sounds. Like she expected someone to jump from around the corner and attack her. Any feeling of safety and comfort vanished.

You were worried.

“Say, Anya-“ You began to speak, while disposing the bandages safely into the bio hazard bag. “-Is everything ok? I mean duh we’re not doing to hot with being, ya know, crashed and all. But besides that. You just seem…..different.”

Anya seemed to not hear you. She simply worked on checking over Curly’s body. Hunting down any infections, looking for possible bed sores, monitoring his healing, and getting ready to do the ever so gentlest of sponge baths.

Anya did always get in the zone whenever someone was hurt. You figured she didn’t catch what you said because of it.

So repeated yourself, as you stood next to her. Impossible to miss what you were asking, as you would help Curly sit up and just move his joints to better reach with the sponge.

The only sounds in that room were Curly’s whines of discomfort. Whines to indicate truly how much pain he was in when even the pain killers can numb it.

“Anya….I know you can hear me. Is everything alright? Not to be rude but I’m kinda asking you a question.” You would be gentle, but she still couldn’t help but looked distressed.

“Anya what’s-“ You would reach a hand out, to comfort her, but the second it was raised towards her she would immediately flinch. Her startled reaction ended up even making her drop Curly’s leg on the table.

Oh that’s gotta hurt.

For a fleeting moment you put Anya on the back burner, and just focused your attention on comforting Curly. How he gave a weak sob from the intense pain.

“Shhhh I know Curly Fry. I know. It’s gonna be ok. It was an accident. You know she didn’t mean it. Shhh.” You would kiss his forehead, as Curly had a muscle spasm through his body from the intense shock to his system. So exhausted and in so much pain.

“It’s gonna be ok. I promise. I love you so much. Just think about our future. How we will get off this ship, and have that family. Have our own baby-“

The moment you said baby, that’s when Anya finally cracked.

Her hands were now covering her face, as she just broke down into sobs. Sobs that sounded so hoarse. Like she’s done it so many times that her body was just abused from it. Left you so worried and confused.

What the hell is going on here?

“Anya, what’s wrong? What did I say?” You would gently guide her to a chair, and worked on stroking her hair. Giving her as much comfort as you would to Curly. The same gentle love as he would get. Love she deserved.

It took a while for her to catch her breathe, and you didn’t rush it because it really seemed she needed it, but her own trembling body was finally able to quite down.

“I need to tell you something. I need to tell you something about Jimmy-“

You were quick to kneel down infront of her, and was ready to take in every last word she was going to say. Maybe what secrets she held could finally explain why the hell you all were crashed here. Why Jimmy crashed you all.

“Jimmy ra-“

That’s when the door opened.

As if that bastard had a sixth sense for whenever people were talking about him. That same annoyed expression, same sneer, same empty eyes.

All three of you kinda froze in time now. Looking at him, as he looked back at you all. Scanning you. As if judging to figure out what was being said before entering.

“Hey….Captain….” You swallowed, as you would return to standing. Anya herself remained in her chair, with her head down. Didn’t seem she trusted herself in showing any expressions right now.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asked, as he seemed slightly on edge. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well or had too much caffeine. Just this tension of paranoia was in the air. Like he was worried about something.

“Just about the bandages. We’re starting to run low, and Anya is just getting worried about having enough.” Wasn’t a complete lie. The best lies were the ones with truth sprinkled in.

“Of course he’s wasting our supplies.” He scoffed, before walking over to the table. You were trying to give Curly some respect with grabbing something to cover him up with, but it was like Jimmy wouldn’t let you. The stare he gave you, when you grabbed the clean hospital gown, made you just freeze in place.

It was just so full of hate.

It was just so full of disgust.

It was just cruelty in dark eyes.

It was just focused on you. As if Anya didn’t even exist right now. Like she meant nothing to him. Nothing but the wind in the air. Something you don’t even bother in registering every day. Like how you breathe in air in your lungs.

You don’t notice until it’s gone.

“Has he been given his medication?” He would ask you, as his hands would be firm on the bed side. Just seeming to assert his dominance with standing over the man. Like some got over the little people.

“Yes Jimmy. He’s been medicated. We are actually in the middle of washing him. It would be nice if there was some privacy-“ You tried to gently hint at, only for it yo fall on deaf ears.

"The crash really did do a number on you. You don’t even have a dick anymore. Just holes huh-?” Jimmy would scoff, as that was your final straw. You would give Jimmy a hard hip bump, and quickly covered Curly up. To give him dignity and respect.

“Hey-! Watch it! Don’t think because you are Curly’s little eye candy doesn’t mean you can go pushing people around-“ Jimmy would bark at you.

You didn’t feel fear.

Jimmy was messing with YOUR man now. Curly deserved dignity and respect. He doesn’t deserve to be called a ‘set of holes’ no way in hell. No one deserved that and ESPECIALLY not Curly.

“Will you just shut up?! What the hell are you even doing here?! Aren’t you the Captain now? Captains are suppose to be doing whatever it takes to help the crew. All you’ve been doing is walking around and insulting everyone! It’s like you don’t want us to be saved. Be a Captain and take some responsibility already-!”

The anger that he had for you was terrifying. You swore it was like a switch. He suddenly seemed taller, bigger, angrier, more intense. You felt like you were shrinking more and more. Like you would melt into a puddle under that heated stare.

But you refused to.

For Curly.

“Listen here you-“

SLAP

You smacked him across the face. Was like the world went mute. No one was so much as breathing. Just the stares of shock from Anya and Curly.

“Get. Back. To. WORK.”

You ordered, and he listened.

He would hold his red cheek, and walked away like a dog with its tail between its legs. As if he was all talk and no bite. That he couldn’t bring himself to be more than an angry voice.

Someone needed to keep him in his place.

“Can this damn ship get any more hectic?” You sighed with your fingers to the bridge of your nose. Just trying to think clearly.

That’s when Anya found her voice.

“I’m pregnant.”

You opened your eyes wide, and was frozen in place.

Did you hear that right? No no. No way. Why would she be pregnant? How would she get pregnant? Who would get her…

“Oh my god.”

You slowly turned around to Anya with the puzzle pieces falling into place. You finally realized what had happened.

Jimmy never was a responsible man.

@meheheasasa @letmebedelutional @trashcansally @balanahala562

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muffinpink02 · 1 year ago

Text

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know -

Hello lovelies! So this is my first “Reader POV” story. And my first Alexia Putellas story. But you can find me on ao3! Muffinpink02 With my other stories.

Summary - Your best friend has invited you to be a plus one for an award show for women’s sports. You don’t have a clue about sport, so when a certain blonde comes and flirts with you, you can’t help but flirt back. But can she keep your attention?

Sorry if I haven’t posted this right, first time on here.

Warnings : SMUT, 18+ fingering, strap, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, restraint and more. 12k +words

You were running late as usual.

Well, it was only by 5 minutes, not too late for your standard, but you knew Daisy would already know that. You were always late. It wasn’t like she cared, she was your best friend, she might tease you about your horrendous time keeping but she loved you, she wouldn’t hold it against you.

Finally, you arrived at your guys favourite pub. You hurried in to see your childhood best friend sitting by the window, drinking her classic red, and what looked like your go to choice of drink sitting on a beer mat in front of her. You smiled as you approached her, it had been a month since you last saw each other. She’d been soo busy with work lately, you was aware she was working on something big with her current clients, you wasn’t sure on who they were but it was some kind of trophy. Or was it a statue?

“Daisy!” You shouted.

She looked up from her phone, a huge smile on her face. “Well, well. Look who’s nearly on time, this is early for you!” Daisy laughed as she grabbed you in for a hug.

“Don’t jinx it!” You laughed as you sat down. You grabbed the drink in front of you. “Ahh you’re an angel. Thank you, D.”

“You’re welcome. So, tell me how’s life? What have I missed?”

You caught up on everything, you finally learned that it was an award that Daisy had been working on, something to do with women’s sport, football to be precise. You could tell from the way she spoke about it that she was excited and proud of herself, and you loved to see it, you were always her biggest cheerleader.

“So it’s being awarded next week, and I get to bring a plus one.” She eyed you up excitedly.

“I’m there. What’s the dress code?” You asked.

“Yay! Brilliant! So it’s fancy but not fancy there will be free drinks, food and a lot of fit athletes. Definitely ones you would love.”

“Sorry? Am I just a big old tart? I’m there to support you…but I mean if there will be fit girls then it’s a win, win.” You smiled at her playfully.

Daisy rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Ohh and a car will pick us up, so come to mine before and we can have some pre drinks.”

“Perfect. Tell me a time and I’ll be there. And I’ll be on time. I promise.” You winked.

——————-

You indeed kept your promise. It may have been the first time ever in your grown up life that you were actually on time, 6 minutes early in fact. You knocked on Daisy’s door and of course the pure shock on her face was worth it.

“No. You’re on time? You’re early? What?” She opened her door wider to let you in.

You walked in, a smug smile on your face. “Yeah, but don’t get used to it.”

Daisy laughed as she followed you into the kitchen, grabbing you both drinks for tonight.

“I love what you’re wearing, D.”

She poured you both Prosecco, handing you your glass. “Thank you. I normally hate dressing up like this but I actually like this dress. Let me see yours in person, it looked so nice in the picture.”

You took your jacket off, revealing a simple but chic, black cami mini dress, that showed off your curves just perfectly. The chest was low-cut, displaying a healthy amount of your breast, but not enough for it to look tacky. It had an open slit to the side of your thigh, exposing some skin, but enough to look sexy. And if you were going to toot your own horn, yeah, you would say you looked good tonight.

“Yes. I love this! I won’t be surprised if you get one of the athletes trying to talk to you. You look fucking hot!” Daisy smiled.

“Pshh I wish. But here’s hoping.” You raised your glass as you took sip. “Anyways, I’m there for you, not the girls.”

In all honesty, you wasn’t too sure on what tonight was about, you knew the award was made by Daisy but you didn’t know what it was for exactly. Well that was a lie, you knew it was for women’s sports and their achievements, but that was about it. You didn’t know what sport it was for, well again you knew Daisy’s award was for football. Was there other sports there? Maybe? You just knew Daisy was there and a woman footballer was receiving it. For her achievements? Yeah, that’s sounds right. Either way you were there to support her, and that was something you knew you could do.

The car arrived, Daisy explained there would be a few faces you might recognise, well, not the sport faces, because you had no clue when it came to sport. You didn’t watch it, you didn’t know about it, you wasn’t into it. It just wasn’t your thing. The car pulled up to the event, there was loads of people walking into a fancy looking building, paparazzi was outside taking pictures of who you assumed was the star athletes.

You and Daisy walked quickly through the crowd, she wasn’t one for pictures and fuss. Even if this was one of her biggest events she had worked on, she didn’t care for it. You both had your VIP lanyards around your neck, the bouncers allowed you entry into the main area. You both got a drink and spoke to some of Daisys colleagues, some you had even met before.

Daisy was being pulled from pillar to post, you didn’t realise just how important the award was. The footballer who was receiving it must have been a big deal as her name was constantly being mentioned. Journalist was asking Daisy ‘how she felt about tonight?’ And ‘how she designed the award?’ ‘what her inspiration was for it?’ You loved watching her finally being recognised for her talent but it did mean you were left a lot, not that you minded. You walked around the room looking at displays of other awards, and the displays of other athletes that was being awarded.

As much as you tried your best to look interested, you had to have a quick glance at your phone, you know, you could be getting an important email from work. You scrolled over your insta feed, but that was just as boring, but a video of a cat playing the piano caught your attention. You didn’t feel the presence of person next you until she spoke.

“You look as bored as I feel.”

You jumped slightly at the new voice in your ear, you looked up to see a blonde woman now standing next you, she was looking at the award you had been standing next to for the better half of ten minutes.

She continued. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” That’s when you noticed a thick Spanish accent on her.

“No, you’re okay. I was just looking at work emails.”

That’s when you really looked at the stranger, she had beautiful hazel eyes, her dark eye shadow making them pop. Her smile was painted red, with full lips. She was wearing a black fitted suit, with a low cut travelling down her chest making it look like she had nothing on underneath. Her blonde hair was parted and down. She was just a bit taller than you, making you look up at her. Basically she was fit as fuck.

“Ahh sí, work emails.”

A mischievous smile spread across her face telling you she knew you wasn’t looking at no work email. She probably saw how engulfed you were at the stupid cat video. She glanced over you quickly, making you almost feel like you were revealing a body part that you didn’t know was out.

“Are you here for work?” She asked.

“Oh, erm no, I’m here with a friend.”

Her eyebrows raised, she took a quick glance around the room. “A friend? Why are they not with you?”

“She’s working, I’m here for support. Her cheerleader on the sideline.” You smiled.

“Ahh, I see. A cheerleader, where are your, how do you say? Pom poms?” She smiled playfully at you.

“Left them at home, didn’t want to upstage her.” You smiled back, taking a drink from your glass.

She laughed at your joke, the sound of her laugh made your stomach flutter.

“It’s a shame, I think it would have made tonight a bit more fun, no?” Her smile was playful as she winked at you.

You had only been talking no more than 5 minutes and you wanted to know everything about this woman. She took a sip from her own glass, taking a confident look down your body, her eyes lingering at your chest, but unlike a man it didn’t feel creepy. It was definitely wanted. You felt your cheeks burning up at the intense way she looked over you. It almost felt like she was undressing you with her hazel eyes.

Before you did willingly undress for the gorgeous women in front of you, you thought you should at least ask a question.

“Are you here for work?”

She smiled, she took another glance over you then around the room. “Sí, for work. But I got distracted.” This time her hazel eyes lingered on your mouth.

Did it send a cold shiver up your now hot body? Yes. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Hmm, you’re not very good at your job if you can be so easily distracted.” You said teasingly. You did your own eyeing up this time, you let your eyes roam her neck line that went down her chest. Her suit made her look powerful and in charge of any situation she was in. And by the looks on her face she was more than happy.

“Hmm, I don’t normally get distracted. But sometimes it’s hard not to be. Especially when I have someone like you I can talk to.”

This woman was oozing confidence, it was almost intimidating, but the playful smile on her face made you want to kiss it off.

“So, you could say I’ve already made your night more fun? Since you were soo bored.”

She laughed again. God, that sexy laugh of hers was so captivating. She stepped a little closer into your space. “Sí, I’m definitely enjoying myself now.”

Fuck, she was honestly the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid your eyes on. She took another glance over your body for good measure. You could have sworn your saw her pupils grow.

You was about to ask for her name, but another women’s voice came in to pop your bubble.

“Ale, et necessiten per a una entrevista ràpida.”

Your GCSE Spanish wasn’t able to translate what she said.

“Estic venint.” The blonde smiled at her Spanish friend. You didn’t think she could be any sexier until you heard her speak in her mother tongue. She looked at you, clearly seeing your confused but turned on expression.

“I have to go, you’ll be at the after party sí?”

You felt giddy, the women clearly wanted to know you as much as you did her.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Might bring my pompoms.” You winked.

Her head tilted back as she laughed. “I can’t wait. Adéu, nena bonica.” She looked over you once more as she walked away with the other Spanish lady. You watched them walk out of them room, into the unknown.

You wasn’t sure what she said but you definitely liked it. You suddenly felt sad at the loss of the mystery woman. You looked around the room for Daisy, she was already looking at you from across the room, a massive smile on her face. She waved for you to come over.

You made your trip over to her, the smile on her face only got wider. You spoke before she could. “Sorry, got completely distracted. How’s it all going?”

Daisy looked at you, a weird expression on her face. “No, you’re good, was you having fun with your new friend?” She looked giddy.

“Erm, yeah I mean she was fucking hot. Did you see her?”

“Yeah, I saw. I didn’t want to interrupt.” She smiled, but her smile was weird. “Did you get her name?”

“No. I think her friend said it, but it was quick Spanish. Are we going to the drinks after?” You asked.

Daisy laughed, almost in disbelief. What was so funny?

“Yeah, we are. Did your friend ask if you were going?”

You smiled, almost bashful. “She did, but I’m here for you, an-“

Daisy put her hand up to your face, stopping you mid sentence. “Please understand I would never get in the way of you having a good time.” She chuckled. “I’ve watched you turn down plenty of girls on our nights out, just because it was our girls night.” She stopped to take a drink from her own glass. “Please don’t worry about me, have fun and don’t miss the opportunity with your new…friend.”

You smiled, you loved your friendship with Daisy it really was rare to have someone like her in your life.

“Thanks, D. Anyways, tell me the goss, whats happening?”

————-

About 40 minutes later you sat down for the award show, you were next to Daisy, only two rows away from the front. She was right about seeing faces you recognised from the telly, but you had only been looking for one face in particular. You had seen her just before taking your seats, she had her Spanish friend following her around, that now come to think of it looked more like an assistant. And you would know, it was also your job.

The lights dimmed and a brunette woman came on stage, you assumed she was an athlete from her body alone. The voice over then came into action.

Voice over - Please welcome your host tonight, England’s Lioness, Lucy Bronze.

The whole room clapped and cheered, she must have been someone big, you knew the lionesses were for women’s football, and maybe if you thought hard enough you had seen Lucy Bronze in the news when they won the…..World cup? Or was it Championship? It was something big.

Awards were passed out and speeches were made. They showed clips of women and girls in different sports, and the challenges they faced around the world just to play sport. It made you realise how little you knew about the topic as a whole and women in sports, it actually made you a little embarrassed.

It was near the end of the show, Lucy came back on stage. “This next award is dedicated to one of the biggest names, in not only women’s football but footballs itself. She even rivals myself with her long list of achievements.” The audience laughed at that. “Please can you give a hand to my friend and my capitana, Alexia Putellas.”

You nudged Daisy. “This is your award!” You clapped even louder, she smiled at you, but once again her smile was weird, maybe she was excited? Or nervous? You clapped and watched the screen begin to play, like it did for each winer of the night, showing a short film of their story in their sport. It was actually a lot more interesting than you would have thought.

The short film started with a ball at a pair of legs, the ball was kicked straight into the back of a goal net, then it panned back to the women who kicked it. Your jaw opened comically, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You felt Daisy laughing quietly next to you, you looked over at her, shock clear on your face. Was this a joke? You had been flirting with one of the greatest women’s football players? And she was flirting with you?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered harshly.

Daisy laughed even harder, you looked back at the screen, even though you wanted answers, you wanted to watch the movie of the women who had been eye fucking you. And once again you was impressed, the women had done so much in her career.

When the film was over, Lucy walked back to the podium, Daisy’s award now in front of her. Even though she mugged you off and didn’t tell you about Alexia you grabbed her hand and smiled at her, you were so proud of your best friend and her work.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Alexia Putellas.” The audience clapped louder than before. That’s when you saw her, she walked on stage, she hugged Lucy for a few seconds. She picked up her award and smiled.

“Thank you, thank you everyone. This award means a lot to me. It’s not just myself that wins this but all the women in my life that have helped me get to where I am today. So this is for them, thank you for being in my corner and being my cheerleader. Gràcies, thank you.”

You couldn’t stop the stupid smile on your face, did she really just say that? Maybe you were over thinking it, maybe she had already planned to say it and it was just coincidence? Maybe.

The audience clapped and whistled, including yourself. You grabbed Daisy for a hug, her art now belonged to one of the greatest football players in women’s football. Pshh, look at you, already learning a thing or two.

The awards came to an end, you and Daisy made your way to the other room for the after party. It was a bar with a dance floor, but it was dark like a night club, but still had an alogant bar vibe to it. You made your way to a table, as more people started to make their way in.

You sat down, Daisy was standing. “I’ll grab drinks, the usual?”

You smiled up at her. “Please, D.”

She walked over to the bar that was already busy, you looked around the room, trying to not make it too obvious but you were looking for a certain Spaniard. After a few minutes of looking you glanced over your phone, you looked on insta to see if your new friend had an account, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw she had 3.3 million followers. You really had to get into the world of women’s sport a bit more.

You scrolled looking at her posts, you may have lingered on one or two bikini posts, until someone sat across from you.

“Now, tell me why a pretty girl like you is sitting here all alone and not on the dance floor.” Her Irish accent was clear as day. She had a cheeky face. Like Alexia, her eyes roamed over your body, her eyes were full of mischief. Alexia’s eyes undressed you slowly, but these eyes were fucking you hard from behind, not that you minded.

“I’m waiting for my friend to come back. So no dancing for me.” You smiled. She wasn’t rude or annoying but for some reason you didn’t want Alexia to see you speaking with her. Or maybe you did?

“Oh, she won’t mind if I keep her seat warm for her then.” This girl was very cheeky, you would have loved it any other night, a girl like her would be easily going home with you, but you wasn’t going to full into her charm. She continued.

“I’m guessing you’re not here for the sports, I would definitely remember your face.”

You laughed. “No, not here for the sports, I’m supporting my friend.”

She nodded as she drank her bottle of beer. “Right, gotcha, gotcha.”

“Are you here for the sports?” You asked.

The Irish girl chuckled while she wiped her nose. “I am here for the sport, yeah. I’m a footballer, I play for Arsenal.”

Another football player? Was you their type or something?

“Ohh, sorry. I’m so bad with sports, I don’t have a clue who anyone is.”

She really laughed at that, taking another drink of her beer. “That’s no bother. Are you having a good time? These tings can be awfully boring.”

“I am, it’s not been too bad, meeting new people is always fun.”

She looked at you then, like Alexia she was confident but the mischievousness gave her a cockiness to her, in a sexy way, and if it wasn’t for your new friend you would fall right into her Irish charm, but the Spanish had got a hard hold of your attention.

“Yeah, well I’m having more fun now I’m talking to you.” She smirked at you.

But before you could say anything else a hand landed on your shoulder. You both looked up to see the star of the show.

“Hola, noia bonica. Where are your pom-poms?” She smiled down at you, once again her smile making your insides do somersaults.

You laughed out loud. “Sorry, I must have left them again.” She smiled at the sound of your laugh. She looked over at the Irish girl, who was watching the two of you interact.

“Sorry, I’m not interrupting anything am I? It’s Katie, isn’t it?” The Spaniard smiled down at the girl across from you, you could see the challenge in Alexia’s eyes, waiting for her to say otherwise.

“Yeah, Katie, that’s right. No, you’re grand. Was just getting to know your friend here. She was sat all alone, you don’t want that now, do ya?” She stood up. “But you’re here now. So I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Okay, it was nice to meet you, Katie.” The Spaniard smiled.

“And you Alexia, but it was really nice to meet you.” Katie nodded her head towards you. “Hopefully I can talk to you a little more later.” She smirked at you. “I can’t help it when I see a pretty girl, ya see.” She smirked at Alexia this time, almost like a warning. You felt like you were in the middle of an old western stand off between two cow girls. Was it hot? Fuck yeah! Two gorgeous girls fighting over you, what could be better than that?

You felt the hand on your shoulder tighten slightly. You heard Alexia hum, and smile politely but you could tell from her eyes she wasn’t really smiling. The Irish girl walked away, she winked at you before she disappeared into the crowd. You exhaled the breath you was holding in, looking up at Alexia who also looked a little calmer.

“May I sit?” Alexia motioned to the now vacant chair.

“Please do.”

She sat down, moving the chair a little closer to you.

“I guess congratulations are in order.” You said.

Alexia looked at you, a playful smile crossed her face, her serious demeanour from a few seconds ago completely gone. “Gràcias.”

“I have to say I was a little bit shocked when I saw you pop up on the screen.”

“Ahh yes, did you enjoy it?” She smiled at you almost hopeful.

“Yeah, it was alright.” You looked around pretending to not be fazed. A playful smile on your face.

She laughed, her head tilted back. “You loved it, don’t lie.” She nudged your knee with her own. She continued. “Where is this friend of yours? I’m starting to believe you don’t have any.”

You chuckled. “She’s at the bar, trying to get us a drink, but it’s a bit busy.” You glanced over at the bar.

Alexia looked over and tutted. “Well, if you’d like you and your friend could join me? I have a table, with table service.”

“Well aren’t you generous.” You teased.

“What can I say? I’m a generous girl. I like to give.” She bit her lip at her last words, and my god you nearly melted on the chair.

“Or are you just trying to hide me from a certain Irish girl?” Your smile was playful but also suggestive.

She shock her head, laughing at you. “What? No, I would never! But if it helps to not have all these girls after you, then sí.” She looked at you, almost like she was cautious of what she said.

But she had nothing to worry about, you liked it, you liked the thought of this gorgeous girl not wanting to share you with anyone, and she didn’t even know you.

You leaned in closer to her, you could smell her perfume. “Don’t worry, you have my attention. I’m yours, for now.”

Even in the dark lighting you could see your words had an effect on her, a devilish smirk appeared on her lips. “Mine? I like that.”

Your eyes glistened with mischief, you looked at the blonde’s hazel eyes, she looked like she wanted to take you where you sat.

“I thought you might.” You leaned in closer.

“Merda. You’re naughty. I also like that.” She bit her lip once more, her eyes didn’t move from your lips.

But your bubble was popped again, but this time it was Daisy with your drinks.

“Ahem. Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You both pulled away. And Daisy said you were bad with your timing, though you could tell by her face she didn’t mean to.

“Alexia, this is Da-“

“Hola Daisy! This is your friend?” Alexia looked between you.

“Hey Alexia, I’ve been wanting to say hi, but I saw you was busy most of the night.” Daisy handed you your drink.

“No, don’t apologise, I’m sorry I haven’t seen you! You’re the one who made my favourite award!” Alexia stood to hug Daisy. It made sense that they had met each other already, Daisy had told you at the pub that the footballer had requested for her specifically to make her award.

Daisy smiled. “I see you’ve met my plus one. I hope she’s keeping herself out of trouble.”

“Erm, I’m not trouble at all, it’s called being fun.” Your smile was playful.

“Sí, she’s no trouble. She’s been the most entertaining part of the event.”

That made you smile, and even Daisy too.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Your best friend laughed.

“I was just saying you two should come sit at my table, I have table service. I don’t want you to be up and down for drinks.”

“Ahh, how sweet of you. Thank you Ale.” Daisy said.

“It’s no problem, come let’s go. My tables just up here.”

Daisy spotted the table and walked, Alexia put her hand out for you to take. And you did, gladly. Her hands were large and strong. She pulled you up easily, she gestured for you to walk in front of her, and of course you made sure to sway your hips as you walked, clearly it’s what she wanted.

You got to the table, there was a few women already there all in their own conversations, One was Lucy, the presenter from earlier, who was in a deep conversation with another brunette woman, who had beautiful doe like eyes. Alexia introduced you all, she explained, that they were her team mates for Barcelona.

“Hey guys, big fan!” Daisy smiled, you could see even in the dark room her cheeks were slightly red.

But before you could sit down someone was shouting for Daisy. “Daisy! Daisy! I have Claude asking for you!”

Daisy turned around to see one of her work colleagues, panic on her face. “The Claude?”

“Yes! Come on.” Her colleague looked panicked but excited.

Daisy looked over at you, a slight panic of what to do.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to leave it’s ju-.”

You put your hand up to stop her. “Don’t even finish that line, go and do what you need to do, Daisy. I’m absolutely fine. Go graft girl.”

Alexia then jumped in. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her Daisy, I promise.”

Your best friend smiled, and squeezed your hand. “Okay, I might be gone a while, if you decide to leave just text me, and please, please tell me you’re home.” She leaned in closer. “Or someone’s going else’s home.” She winked at you, thinking no one heard but by Alexia’s smile she definitely heard.

She continued. “Ale, thank you again for the invitation. We’ll keep in touch, and please look after this one.”

Alexia put her arm around your waist. “I will, don’t worry.”

Daisy gave you a quick hug. “Thank you for coming tonight, have fun and be safe.” Before you could reply she ran over to her colleague, who looked liked they were about to pass out.

You looked over at Alexia, she was pouring two glasses of champagne. She handed you one, making sure to let her fingers linger. She held up her drink for a toast. “To keeping out of trouble.”

You laughed loudly, you clinked your glass and drank the bubbly drink.

You couldn’t help but notice how fucking hot every one of the teammates were, how had you not got into women’s football before? You may have caught a few eyes raking over you, and Alexia definitely did to, if sitting between you and her team mates was anything to go by.

She leaned in close like she did before. “So, how do I still not know the name of the girl that’s distracted me from work?” She purred.

“Hmm, I think your mind was in other places before asking.” You teased and took a swig of your drink.

“You’re right, how rude of me. Let’s start again. I’m Alexia.” She put her hand out for you to take.

You took her hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you Alexia. My names, Y/N.”

She raised your hand to her lips, she kissed the back of your hand, her eyes locked with yours as she did. Fuck, she was smooth.

She repeated your name softly. “I like that name, I like the way it sounds.”

“I like the way it rolls off your tongue.” You were being bold.

She chuckled. “I can do a lot with my tongue.” But she was bolder.

And yeah, your pussy woke up from that.

You spent the next half an hour in your own bubble once again. You both flirted hard but she also asked what you did for work, she explained some bits of her football career that you had seen on her short film. You noticed though she wanted to talk more about you and your life, you didn’t mind, she probably was bored of having to talk about herself tonight.

Even though you were both close to taking off each other’s clothes, you wanted to know more about the Spaniard. She wasn’t like many girls you spoke to, she was confident, charming and witty, but there was also a sense of vulnerability. Though right now her body language was screaming to have you closer. Those same eyes that was undressing you earlier was full of desire, it was almost like she could see exactly how you looked while she fucked you. And you definitely wanted that to be a reality.

But that dahm bubble was popped again.

Alexia’s assistant had appeared, wincing a smile at you both. “Ale, perdó. Algunes preguntes ràpides per a la premsa anglesa.”

Alexia nodded. “Sorry, I just have to do this, I won’t be too long. You’ll be ok, sí?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be okay. You assured her.

She clearly didn’t want to leave you, all of the girls were now on the dance floor, so you’d be alone, clearly not what she wanted.

“Really, go. I’ll stay out of trouble.” You smiled playfully at her.

“Hmm, why do I not believe you.” She chuckled as she slowly walked away.

You watched as she went with her assistant. You went on your phone and sipped on your drink. But just like Alexia had worried you wasn’t alone for long.

“Hola, may I join you?”

You looked up to see another stunning woman, her arms were covered in tattoos, causing your eyes to roam her body. Something she didn’t miss from the smile on her face.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“Are you here with someone?” She picked up the bottle from the bucket on the table and poured herself a glass, but not without topping up your own glass. You watched as her tattooed fingers wrapped around yours. You had to admit the Spanish girls had such confidence when it came to flirting.

“I’m here with my friend, she’s about but not sure where.” You smiled.

“Ah, just friend? That’s why she doesn’t mind leaving you.”

You were confused. “What do you mean?”

She sat down next to you, right where Alexia sat. “Well, she’s your friend, she doesn’t mind if you talk with others, sí? Because if you were more then my friend, I wouldn’t leave you alone, not with all these girls here.”

“Ohh I see, but what if I have a girlfriend at home?” You challenged playfully.

She drank her drink and shrugged. “She’s at home.” She smiled wickedly at you.

Fuck. These girls were keeping you on your toes.

“My names Mapi.” She put her hand out to shake yours, and as you went to take it a perfect pair of red lips printed on your skin caught yours and Mapi’s eyes.

“Ahh, I’m not the first to talk to you tonight.” She smirked.

You didn’t even realise Alexia had left lipstick on your skin, it sent shivers up your spine, it made you feel like she had already made a statement to mark you as hers.

“I’m Y/N. You’re not the first. ” You smiled.

She continued. “So, your friend. Is she a footballer?” Just like Alexia and Katie, Mapi roamed her eyes up your body, taking in your curves. She smiled as she caught your eyes.

Of course you didn’t mind, if you were going to have anyone look at you in that way you wanted the likes of these girls looking at you. The women’s gaze was the only gaze you wanted. Like Katie, there was no question that you would have had Mapi in your bed tonight. But unfortunately for her you had your eyes set on another Spaniard. Even if she was making it a little difficult for you.

“No, she’s not an athlete, she designed one of the awards.” You took a sip of your drink.

She nodded her head. “Ohh I see, that’s cool.”

“I’m guessing you’re a footballer?” You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say.

She leaned back, displaying a hard six pack, she put her arm over the back of your seat, making her look even more attractive.

“Sí I play for Barcelona. Do you watch football?”

You had to hold back your laugh, of course she played for Barcelona. “I don’t, but I think after tonight I will.”

She laughed, she sat even closer to you, her woody perfume took over your senses. She whispered in your ear. “If you want I can be your first taster.”

Wow, football girls were officially your new type, but before you could respond and politely decline, you heard a voice.

“És clar que hauria de ser tu, Mapi.”

Mapi backed up from you instantly on hearing her captain’s voice. “Què? ella està amb tu?”

Alexia smiled at you. “Sí, però gràcies per fer-li companyia.”

Mapi moved even further from you, putting her her hands up in defence. It might be silly but it was hot to see Alexia once again being jealous over a girl talking to you.

“Ho sento. Ella està calenta. Què puc dir?”

Mapi stood up this time, she drank her drink and looked over at you smirking.

“This is why you shouldn’t be left alone, girls like me come along. Have a good night, noia sexy.”

You chuckled. “It was nice to meet you, Mapi.”

The Spaniard walked closer to Alexia. “Déu meu, tens molta sort. Ella és molt calenta.”

Alexia smiled devilishly at you, her eyes staring straight into yours, it sent a shiver down your spine. It might have been the first time she intimidated you, not that you hated it.

Mapi smiled one last time at you before heading back into the dance floor. Leaving the two of you alone.

Alexia walked over to you, like a lion to its kill. She sat down where Mapi sat. “I leave you for five minutes and you already have another girl on you. You definitely can’t stay out of trouble.” She purred.

“Sorry, it must be a footballer thing.” You teased.

“You’ve had six girls after you, and that’s just from the ones that I know about. Including myself.” She almost sounded annoyed.

“Six?” You questioned.

“Sí, I had three other girls ask about you. But I said you were with me.”

You raised your eyebrows at the blonde, if there was one thing that turned you on about a girl, it was their possessiveness, to a degree of course. But with Alexia it felt like you were in control, she was the one fighting for you and she didn’t even know your last name, you could easily leave tonight without saying another word to her.

Not that you were ever going to do that.

She continued. “Sorry, if it’s too much, you did say you were mine tonight, no?” She smirked at you, she knew you were loving this, she could read you like an open book.

You leaned into her ear, your lips grazed her skin just slightly. “Prove it. Make me yours.”

You almost thought you had said the wrong thing then. Alexia stared at you with a look you couldn’t put your finger on, until she leaned over to your face, her lips inches from yours.

“You might regret that.”

Even the butterflies in your stomach were turned on at this point, this woman was the definition of all your sex dreams. You could feel your body needing her, and she could feel it to.

She continued. “I have a driver outside.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else, you stood up looking at Alexia, she didn’t miss a beat. She grabbed your hand and headed straight to the exit. Within minutes you were in the back of a fancy blacked out Mercedes.

“Can we go to my hotel please.”

“Yes, Ms Putellas.” The driver replied. A blacked out window glided up between you and the driver, giving you and Alexia privacy.

You looked over at the blonde, her hungry eyes were already scanning your body, you had a feeling this girl was going to wreck you. Her eyes caught you own, a devious smile crept on her lips, making your pussy flutter.

“So, you’re all mine?”

“All yours.”

Her lips were on yours in seconds, the kiss was rough and messy, you tried to dominate the kiss but you didn’t try too hard. Not when Alexia was kissing you the way she was, she licked her tongue over your lips, wanting entry and you gave it to her easily.

And wow she could kiss, it might sound silly but her kisses felt different to an English girl, it was like her tongue had more control over its movements. Though, you had heard before that Spanish girls were one of the best for giving head, it was something to do with their tongues, the way they moved it when they spoke. Maybe you’d be able to put it to the test.

You groaned in pleasure as she kissed you deeper, her hands snaked into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. You pulled back for air, but she only pulled you back again, wanting your mouth on hers. You could tell she was as desperate for you as you was her, she let out a small moan as you pressed your tongue into her mouth.

Her red lipstick had all but disappeared by the time you got to her hotel.

You hadn’t realised how nice of a hotel it was when you entered. Her room was over looking the Thames and most of London’s skyline, making the room glow from the city’s lights.

You walked towards the window looking over the city, it was always one of your favourite views at night. Other than a naked woman in your bed.

That’s when you felt the Spaniard move your hair gently to one side, her hot lips pressed against the back of your neck. She hummed into you, making your skin cover in goosebumps. She smiled into the kiss, she obviously felt what she was doing to you. You whimpered as she kept her mouth working on you, her hands gripping your waist.

You were on cloud nine, Alexia’s mouth and body pressed up against you like this made the city lights look blurry. She moved your body around to face her, she leaned closer into you, her hazel eyes roamed your face, landing on your lips. Even in the dark her eyes glowed like gold, her eyes reminded you of a cat hunting at night. The atmosphere changed from fast and quick to soft and sensual.

“Can I get you anything? A drink? Tea?” She smiled.

“No thanks, just want you.”

She hummed. “What do you want from me?”

“To fuck me. Do what you want with me.”

“Merda.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She must have liked what you said as you were suddenly being picked up like a rag doll, like you was nothing. Your legs wrapped around her waist as she walked you to the bedroom. Your back hit the wooden door as you entered her room, she was on your neck with her sweet mouth, kissing you, her hips pressing you hard against the door.

“What can’t I do?” She whispered.

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” You rasped

“Any safe words?” She kissed your lips.

“Red, yellow and green?”

“Sí.” She husked.

“Same for you?”

“Sí, the same for me.”

You were thrown on the bed, your back hitting the mattress, once again you couldn’t believe the strength of the girl in front of you. She climbed on top of you, her lips attacking your neck, she had already worked out it was your sweet spot, making you moan as her lips sucked and licked on your skin. She was definitely making a mark, and normally you wouldn’t have it, you wouldn’t walk around with a love bite on show, but with Alexia you wanted it. You wanted to look in the mirror and remember it was her that gave it to you. That claimed you.

Her hand stroked up your thigh, pushing the slit of your dress up, inching higher to where you needed her. You were wet, you could feel your thong becoming drenched, you could feel your skin sticking to the thin fabric. Her hips pushed into you, she was clearly finding her self composure hard to control. Her fingers traced over your sensitive skin, between your thighs, teasing you, maybe even teasing herself.

“Please.” You whispered.

“Please what?” She smiled as she kissed down your chest.

“Please, I need you.”

“Hmm, you need me?” She purred.

“Yes.” Your voice was desperate.

“How much?” She started to move your straps of your dress down your shoulders, revealing your black laced bra.

“Since I saw you.” Your voice almost broken as she attached her lips to the top of your breast.

“Hmm, that’s a long time. You must be desperate?”

“I a- am. Fuck!” Your voice strained as she attached her mouth to your perked nipple. You didn’t even notice she had opened your bra, she had taken advantage of the front clasp. Thank god for front clasps.

Her mouth was perfect, she sucked and bit on your nipple, making you groan, your hand tangled in her blonde hair. She bit at your flesh, then sucked again to soothe the pleasurable pain. The noise you let out was loud, she smiled up at you, clearly enjoying her view.

“You’re loud. I like that.”

You couldn’t form words, you groaned and tugged gently at her hair as she moved to your other nipple. One of her hands were still in between yours thighs, slowly tracing her fingers up and down your sensitive skin. She was driving you mad, and she knew it. Her hips relentlessly pushed into your core, making you moan again and again.

“Please, Alexia.” You felt like you could have cried, you were that desperate. Your pussy was aching, needing something. Needing her.

You felt her chuckle into your skin, her fingers finally, but just barely touched the fabric over your pussy.

“Merda, estàs molt mullat.” She rasped.

You didn’t have a clue what she was saying but fuck, did it make you wet. She could be calling you every name under the sun and you didn’t care. As long as she was saying it.

“Is this all for me?” She began to sit up.

“Yes.” You nodded your head, you couldn’t help but wonder how desperate you must have looked. “All for you.”

“You really are trouble, aren’t you?”

“Only if you want me to be.” God this girl was making you a mess, you was putty in her hand and she hadn’t even touched you.

She watched you as she started to remove her jacket, her smile never leaving her face. You sat up at the end of the bed, you helped pull the arms down, and you were right, she was completely naked underneath. All night she had been walking around with nothing on, she clearly had a lot of trust in the jacket.

Her full breast was now on show, you let out an appreciative sigh. She was fucking gorgeous. You kissed her tight stomach, you watched as her muscles flexed from your mouth. Her hands stroked into your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. You kissed and licked at her beautiful olive skin, kissing up to the line of where her trousers sat. You looked up at her, bitting your lip asking for permission.

She nodded, watching you like a hawk. You popped open the button and slowly pulled her zip down, revealing more skin, and the start of her red laced thongs. Before you could pull her trousers down she cupped your chin, making you face her. She gently ran her thumb over your bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful. So many girls wanted you tonight, so many eyes were on you. But you chose to be with me. I am very lucky.”

You felt yourself blush, one minute she had you begging to be fucked, now she had you going red and shy.

“You had eyes on you too, I saw the way people looked at you.”

She smiled then, but it wasn’t her normal smile you had seen all night, it almost looked a little sad. But you didn’t have time to question it, she shuffled out of her trousers letting them hit the floor. She stood you up, pulling your dress over your head, you were both now only in your underwear.

You moved your mouth to her breast, and sucked on her sensitive nipple. You heard her suck in a breath, her hands going straight to your hair. You gave her breast the attention that they deserved, sucking, biting and kissing on the blushed coloured flesh. She groaned softly, her eyes were closed enjoying the sensation of your mouth. You let go of the flesh with a loud popping sound. Letting your lips rub against her.

She opened her eyes, the golden hazel colour you had seen earlier had now nearly disappeared. She pushed you on the bed once more. Your thongs were being pulled down your thighs, you both saw the wetness attached to the fabric, the smile on her face turned devilish.

“You’re mine, sí?”

“Yes. All yours.”

She climbed on top of you, peppering kisses down your body, it felt like she kissed every possible bit of flesh on your body. Then she was in between your legs. Her teeth sunk into your thighs, making you whimper. She soothed the red mark with her tongue, kissing and licking.

Then finally, her tongue licked through your very wet folds. You wasn’t sure who groaned louder. Her tongue licked through you again, and again and again, until she was in a rhythm. What you heard about Spanish girls was right, it was a whole different sensation. She dipped her tongue into your cunt, making you groan, your hands grabbed her head, pushing her deeper as she fucked you with her tongue.

“Alexiaaa! Fuck!”

She glided her tongue up to your clit, wrapping her full lips around your bundle of nerves. And fuck, you were already close. But who could blame you? She’d worked your body up to the point of tears. She sucked and licked at your sensitive flesh, your hands were still in her hair, moving her how you wanted her. Not that you needed to do much, she knew what she was doing, her mouth was perfect. Your eyes closed as you started feeling your orgasm approaching, your stomach tightening, feeling the warmth glide over your body.

“I’m close, please don’t stop.”

But she did. She moved her mouth away from you, you could see your juices all over her chin and lips, she looked breathtaking.

“Nooo! I was so cl-.”

Then you felt her fingers at your entrance. She thrusted two fingers into you, cutting off your words. You let out a deep throaty moan, as her thick fingers began to thrust into you.

“Not until I say you can.”

Fuck, she really was the girl of your dreams.

You nodded, wanting to be good for her. You couldn’t help but find it a little worrying at how easy it was for Alexia to see right though you. How easy she could get you begging, denying your orgasm, leaving marks all over your body and you had only met her a couple of hours ago. And you thought you were in control?

“Bona noia.” She whispered.

She began to thrust deeper, her fingers pushing against your soft flesh, pushing your body to control what it desperately needed. You couldn’t stop the moans slipping out of your mouth, her fingers were talented, just like her mouth. You watched her strong arm flex at her movements.

“You will take my dick. Sí?”

She had a strap? This girl was made in heaven.

“Yes, yes.” You cried.

“Good. You want to come like this?”

“Your mouth and fingers. Please!.” You begged.

She chuckled deeply. She leaned back down and attached her lips to your clit again, making you scream. She hummed against your core, your hand tangled in her hair as you felt your climax approaching. You looked down to see those golden hazel eyes staring at you. You pushed your hips into her mouth, grinding her tongue on your swollen clit. Her fingers were relentless, your thighs started to shake, your fingers pulled at her hair, pushing her closer to your sex. You came hard, Alexia’s name rolling off your tongue as your body shuddered.

She stayed there, well she had to, you didn’t let her go. You thrusted your hips, taking every bit of her tongue. She lapped up your ever flowing juices, slurping and swallowing, making you gasp and whimper. You finally let go of her hair, but she didn’t move, she traced her tongue all over your pussy, kissing and sucking. Her strong hands kept your hips down, not able to move.

“Ale… fuck. Alexia, baby, please.” You gently gasped.

She didn’t move, she was in her own world, tasting you, eating your cunt like it was her last meal. You groaned gently, letting her take what she wanted from you. You could feel another orgasm already building back up. She finally stopped, she must have felt your body tensing, she wasn’t going to let you come again that quickly.

“You taste so good baby.”

She kissed your thighs as she climbed up to your face, kissing you gently. You groaned at tasting yourself on her tongue, her smile once again making your stomach flutter.

Alexia jumped off the bed, you tried to catch your breath as you watched her rummage around in her suitcase. You pushed yourself on your elbows, watching the Spaniard attaching her harness, a 7 inch dildo sat between her strong thighs.

“So, do you always carry your harness around?” You teased.

She chuckled. “Sí, it’s my travel harness.”

You laughed loud, this girl was ridiculous.

She continued. “Are you complaining? I can take this off?”

You shock your head, eyes wide. “No. Sorry.”

She smirked, she turned back around in her suit case and pulled out a black tie.

“I think I might have to tie you up, you’ve been trouble all night.”

You nodded, you put your hands in front of you for her to tie. You could feel your pussy throbbing again. She stepped in front of you, her dick inches from your body.

“Uh-ah, hands behind your back baby.” Her tone was soft.

You stood up, turning around to allow her to tie your wrist. She ever so gently bounded your hands together, it was tight, you couldn’t get I out of it if even if you tried. Your breathing picked up, you could feel your legs shaken in anticipation.

She moved your hair to the side like she did before, her lips gently kissed up your neck, her mouth was close to your ear.

“If it’s too much, tell me baby. I’ll stop straight away. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, thank you. I’m green.”

She continued to kiss your neck, her hands snaked up to your breast squeezing gently. You groaned from her touch, as her large hands roamed your breast.

“M'encanten els sorolls que fas.” She whispered.

“Fuck, Ale.”

“Yes, baby?” Her lips were hot on your skin driving you mad.

“I love it when you speak to me like that.”

“In Catalan? You like it?” She purred.

“Yes.” Your hips moved backwards.

She chuckled at your lack of patience. “Ets la meva bona noia.”

You groaned again, your hips pushed back, hitting her dick on your arse.

“Get on your knees and show me what your pretty mouth can do.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned around to stand in front of her and dropped to your knees, you took the tip of her dick in your mouth and sucked.

Her hands were in your hair instantly. You pushed your mouth further on the length of her dick, swallowing her inch by inch. You pulled back to catch your breath, you could feel yourself becoming wet all over again. You looked up at the Spaniard, she looked as wrecked as you felt, you could see was clenching her jaw, her eyes were full of lust.

“You look so good.” She whispered.

You took a deep breath as you took her back into your mouth. She groaned looking down at you, she watched your mouth take her more than half way. She gently pushed your head to take more of her, but you began to choke. You pulled back again, tears began to prick at your face.

“Take a deep breath baby, relax your throat.” She stroked your cheek, she looked deep in your eyes, almost lovingly. You would have laughed if her dick wasn’t shoved in your mouth, the girl could switch up her tone so easily.

You nodded, you took another deep breath and slowly took her in again, you felt her hand at the back of your head, guiding you further down her dick. You got past the halfway point, you could feel the tip of her dick touching the back of your tongue. A single tear fell from your eye as you pushed yourself. Her hand was still on your head, she pushed her dick slowly but firmly into the back of your throat, your nose just touching her stomach.

“That’s it baby, just like that. You’re doing so good.” She rasped.

You pulled back slightly, then slowly took her back in your throat, her hands tightening in your hair. Spit started to drip from your mouth, as you kept sucking on her dick. She started to gently move her hips in time with your movements, pushing herself further down your throat. It made you gag, but she kept her hand on your head.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe. You’re doing so good.”

And you did, you calmed your breathing and pushed on her dick. A few more tears trickled down your cheeks. She thrusted her hips again, slowly and gently, never taking her eyes off of you.

“You look so beautiful on your knees for me. If only all those girls could see you now, taking me like this.” She groaned.

You moaned at her words, you loved a girl that spoke to you during sex, it turned you on to no end. And her accent only made it that much hotter. Your pussy was throbbing, aching to be touched again, but you wanted so badly to please Alexia.

Her hips started to pick up pace, her thick dick sliding in and out of your throat. You could hear her breathing becoming shallow. She easily took control over your movements, not that you had any real choice, your hands tied behind your back put you under her complete control. And you loved it.

“Tal qual, Tal qual. Sí.” She groaned. “So good.”

Your wet slurping noise filled the room, spit dribbled down your mouth and on to the floor. The strap was hitting Alexia perfectly on her clit, she had been turned on as much as you so she wasn’t far from her own orgasm.

“Merdaa. Your mouth is perfect. Just take a little more baby.”

And you did, Alexia fucked your throat until her legs started to tremble. Her moaning got louder, you could tell she found that sweet spot as her hips thrusted faster, You pushed yourself as hard as you could, as she used your mouth to reach her own orgasm. She was mumbling a mixture of Catalan and English as she was tipping over the edge.

“Estic venint! I’m coming!” She pushed your head down the whole length of her dick as she came. Your nose was pressed against her hard stomach as she rutted against the base of her strap.

“Merda, merda.” She whispered, she pulled your head back gently, just as you began to choke.

“Oh Déu meu, I can’t feel my legs, you were so good baby. Are you okay?” She rasped, her hands stroked your face so gently. You breathed hard, trying to catch your breath, tears streaming down your face as you coughed.

“Y-yeah. I’m good.” You panted. Smiling up at the blonde.

“You were so good for me. Come.” She picked you up to your feet easily. She kissed your swollen lips gently. “Colour?”

“Green.” You husked.

“Okay, are your arms okay?” She wiped away your tears, smiling at you.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You felt your stomach flutter.

“Good, I want to fuck you from behind, like this. Is that oka-“

“Yes, yes. It’s okay. Please. Do it, please.” Fuck, she had officially wrecked you.

Alexia’s eyebrows raised in shock, she started to smirk. “She’s still desperate, that’s okay. I’ll fix that.”

She turned you around facing the bed, you felt her hand gently push your body down to lay. Your arms were still tied behind your back, once again you were under Alexia’s control. You couldn’t believe tonight had turned into this, you had only gone to out support your best friend and now was about to be railed by the girl of your dreams. Best. Night. Ever.

She moved your body to how she wanted you. The side of your face was pressed into the mattress, and your arse was in the air, you were lined up perfectly to her dick. She stroked her hand down your back, looking at the beautiful site in front of her. She could see you was dripping. Your thighs were wet.

“You are perfect.” She stroked her fingers through your folds, making you whimper.

She didn’t want to wait around anymore, she’d pictured you in many different ways tonight, and finally she was living her dreams.

She pushed the head of her dick slowly into you, and it was thick. Her hands grabbed hold of your waist, you both gasped as she pushed the rest of herself inside, making you stretch. She began to roll her hips, already loving the small noises you were making for her. In this position she had full control over you. And like the submissive little bitch that you were, you loved it.

“Fuck, you take me so well. Look at you. You’re mine, Sí?”

“Yes!” You cried.

Her hips began to thrust at a hard pace, making you cry out. Her hips were strong, the noises of her skin slapping your skin was erotic. The room was drowning in your whimpers and moans as the Spaniard fucked you like she owned you. And that’s exactly what she was doing, you’d told her you was hers tonight, she was fucking you like you was hers.

“You’re mine? Tell me.” She demanded.

“Y-yes. I’m y-yours. Yours.” You struggled to speak.

Your mumbles were incoherent, you were seeing stars as her hips kept up a relentless pace. You wasn’t going to come like this, you could feel your orgasm teetering but you needed your clit to be touched.

“Alexia, please. Touch me.”

“Not yet baby, we come together.” She panted out.

You wanted to argue but you were scared she would deny your orgasm completely. So you kept quite and took what she gave you, it wasn’t like you wasn’t loving her fucking you like this. However, you didn’t take in to consideration the stamina this girl possessed. You had been with many different types of girls, but never a footballer, not a professional athlete. And my god she made your body work. She had you going like this for another 20 minutes.

And those 20 minutes were heaven and hell. Your body was going limp, sweat ran down your back as she thrusted into you. You felt her strong hand squeezeyour arse cheeks, guiding you up and down on her dick, moving you around like her own personal sex toy. Your clit was crying out to be touched. But, finally, by the sounds of her breathing and moaning she sounded close herself. Her nails dug into your skin as she pushed herself against the strap, the pressure was just right as she rubbed her clit against the base, causing her to go deeper inside your core.

“Take it baby, take it.” She groaned.

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head. She moved her fingers on to your clit, she hardly needed to touch you before your body started to jerk. Her fingers rubbed beautifully at your bundle of nerves, making you plead for her to not stop.

“I love the way you beg. It drives me crazy. Come for me, you’ve been so good.” Alexia panted.

An animalistic cry escaped your mouth as your orgasm hit you. Your pussy pulsated hard around her dick, and Alexia didn’t stop, she thrusted her hips deep, pulling your tight walls, making you almost pass out. And she was right behind you, her orgasm took over her body, she leaned forward, grabbing the back of your neck, pushing your face into the mattress. Her hips roughly doubled down her pace. The air in your lungs was being forced out from her sheer strength.

A deep, rumble like moan escaped her lips, as she came. Her hips slowed down to a stop. She gently pulled out of you, you cried out as you felt the warmth of her body leaving you.

“You’re so perfect. Merda.”

You felt her untie your hands, she helped you guide them forward, knowing they would be a little stiff now. You moaned from the ache in your muscles, you could just about move your arms. Your wrists were red, that was definitely going to leave a mark for a while. Another mark to remember her by. You felt her guide you on your back, it nearly took your breath away how fucking good she looked, her face was flushed, her hair a little bit of a mess and her smile was dopey.

“You okay? What’s your colour?”

“I’m green, green everywhere.” You laughed quietly. “Your colour?” Even though she was mostly the one in control you still wanted to make sure she was okay.

She smiled, she looked surprised to be asked. “I’m green, thank you, cariño. I’m going to run a bath.” She was gone all of a sudden. It made you suddenly realise you were in Alexia’s room, in her space, in her way. You felt a little dazed, you stood up on shaky legs, you were looking around for your clothes, trying to get out of the girls way.

Alexia came back into the room, she watched you a little confused. “What are you doing?”

You jumped, suddenly feeling a lot more shy. “Oh sorry, I don’t want to be in your way.”

She stepped closed to you. A serious expression on her face. “I don’t want you to leave. You can if you want to. But I want you to stay, relax your body in the bath, you will be sore.” She smirked.

You felt a little calmer, her eyes were watching you for any indication of what you were thinking. She must have realised you were overthinking it all. She continued. “Please, I don’t fuck girls and kick them out. Let me look after you.” She kissed the back of your hands, never taking her eyes off of you.

You nodded, your hands crept up her neck, pulling her closer towards you. She closed the gap with her lips attached to your own. It was slow and sensual, it was what you needed after the sex you just had. She picked you up, again the strength of this girl was unbelievable. She walked you to the bathroom, putting you on the cabinet side, you squealed from the cold service on your cheeks.

“Sorry baby.” She genuinely looked sorry.

“No it’s okay. I can take it.”

That made her smile. “Hmm, I saw from tonight that you can take a lot.” She purred in your ear.

She had made you a bubble bath, you felt almost a little embarrassed at how you felt earlier, trying to rush out. Though sometimes being fucked from an inch of your life could bring up emotions like that, that’s clearly why she was doing this for you. She understood.

She helped you get in, it was perfect. You laid back and relaxed, allowing the hot water to relax your muscles. She left you to be alone for about 10 minutes, until you needed her again. It scared you, you were feeling a little too attached to a girl you hadn’t even known a day.

“Ale.”

She came in, a beautiful smile on her face, she looked a little tired. It made you think about her leaving for tomorrow. Would you ever see her again? She stroked your hair back behind your ear. Kissing your forehead. She helped you out of the bath, and into the room, she helped you to dry your body, her lips kissing your back. Making you gasp. She laid you on the bed, sleep was taking over your body, you then heard what sounded like a shower and then sleep took you for the night.

——————

You woke the next morning to a hot kisses on your back, you almost forgot where you were until you could hear Alexia hum against your skin. Her lips were all over your back, making you moan, it was the best kind of way to wake up, well, that was until she guided you on your back.

“Good morning. I hope you don’t mind but, I really want to taste you.”

She stared up at you as she kissed your stomach. Your sleepy daze hadn’t left you yet, your arms ached from last night. But my god there was no way you’d say no to this.

You nodded your head. “Please.” Your morning voice was rougher then normal, you was desperate for this women all over again.

She was between your legs in seconds, she was just as desperate as you, she sucked and licked on your clit until you came twice for her. Your tired hips gently fucked her face, your hands twisted in her hair, pushing her head against you as you came on her tongue. You felt her moan, as she swallowed your juices. Now that was a way to wake up.

You looked down at her beautiful morning face, her eyes were still sleepy, her smile was a little dazed. God this girl was beautiful.

“Let me please.” You whispered. You hadn’t got to taste the gorgeous woman in front of you yet, it felt criminal that you hadn’t had your mouth on her.

You could see even in her sleepy haze that she wanted it too but that vulnerable side you saw last night had creeped back up. She climbed up your body and laid next to you, for the first time she looked nervous, you wanted to make sure she knew she was wanted.

“You look so beautiful, Ale.” You kissed her lips gently.

You kissed her neck, sucking on parts of her skin that made her squirm. The roles seemed to have reversed this morning, she was the one submitting to you, her whimpers and moans made your head spin. You lowered yourself between her legs, she was dripping.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Ale. All for me?” She nodded, her lips between her teeth. “Sí.”

You didn’t wait around, you dipped your tongue through her velvety folds, her juices covered your tongue as you finally got to taste her. You had wondered what she tasted like the majority of the night, wondered what she would sound like while you sucked on her clit. And it was better than anything you could have imagined. She was perfect, she was your new favourite flavour.

You lapped up at her wet cunt, stroking and gliding your tongue through her sensitive flesh. Making sure to miss her clit, you just wanted to stay there all day, listen to her make those sweet noises. It was the first time you were really getting to hear her, she’d only grunted and moaned last night, but now you got to really hear her. You were shocked at how delicate she sounded, how desperate she was, the sounds you were dragging out of her made your head spin. It was a complete 360 from her confident, dominant self. Maybe that’s why she looked so nervous.

You felt her fingers glide into your hair, pulling at your scalp.

“Please stop teasing. Please.”

You stopped your movements. “What was that baby?”

She whined. “Please, I need you.”

“You need me?” You quickly licked her clit. Her body jolted, her body was more wound up than you thought.

“Sí. I need you.”

Another lick. She gasped.

“Hmm, are you mine?”

“Sí. I’m yours. Please.”

Well, that was easier than you would have liked. So you kissed her clit, wanting to tease her. She cried out, she pulled your hair to try and get you where she needed you, and you didn’t want to tease her no more, not when she looked close to tears.

You wrapped your lips around her bundle of nerves and sucked. Her back arched of the mattress as she fucked your face, her hands pulled your closer to her sex. Once again you were under her control, but you really didn’t mind, as long as she came in your mouth that’s all you cared about.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Her legs were shaken, her high pitched whines became loud, you was certain the people either side of you could hear her.

“Merda!” She pushed your head down, keeping you where she needed you as she came in your mouth. Her juices gushed in your mouth, her hands in your hair didn’t allow you to move. You swallowed every drop as she snaked her hips slowly, feeling your skilful tongue. She breathed hard as she let go, you looked up to see her chest rising and falling. She felt like she had been to heaven and back.

“Wow, I don’t know if I known English anymore.” She chuckled, her hand over her face. You could see her cheeks were flushed.

You crawled up to her face, kissing her deeply, she moaned as both your flavours blended in your tongues. You spent another half an hour cuddled up in her sheets, you traced your fingers on her tattoos, you wondered what they stood for. Your bubble of bliss was interrupted when her phone alarm went off.

She groaned, turning off the noise. You suddenly felt dread, you knew what that meant. You had to leave, and get on with your life and she went back to Barcelona. You felt like you were loosing something you never even had. Someone you met less then 24 hours ago who suddenly felt like someone whose side you never wanted to leave.

“I have to get ready for my flight.” She sounded sad, maybe even angry. She turned around and kissed your cheek. You both got ready to leave. It was quiet between you, the atmosphere had changed from fast and hungry to, silent and sad.

Suddenly she was behind you, her warm body pressed against your back. She whispered in your ear. “Would you visit?”

“In Barcelona? Yes.” You whispered back.

She pulled you closer, her lips back on your neck.

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“You’re mine?”

“Fuck, yes.”

She had you pressed up against the wall, her fingers pressed against your clit, as she gave you your third orgasm of the morning. You told her you was hers throughout.

She arranged for a taxi to pick you up. You were in your dress from the night before, you clearly looked like were doing the walk of shame. She pulled out a thick cream Nike jumper from her suitcase and started to pull it over your head. Your senses were surrounded by her smell. It made you feel warm and soft inside. Fuck.

She walked down with you to the taxi, you felt a mix of emotions, you wanted nothing more than to stay with this girl, but you were from two different worlds. You didn’t regret last night but the feelings that had come with it were maddening, you’d been with girls like this before, but there was something different about Alexia. And she felt it to.

She pulled you in for hug, she kissed your lips with so much passion, you could feel the emotion behind it. She pulled back, holding your face in her large hands. She looked you in your eyes, her hazel orbs searched your face.

“My cheerleader.” She chuckled.

You laughed out loud, making the Spaniard smile. Fuck this was hard. She pulled the hoody over your head and pressed another kiss to your mouth.

“Goodbye, cariño.”

“Bye, Alexia.”

She watched you get in the back of the cab, and closed the door behind you. The car started to pull away, you watched as she stood there, watching you drive away. She stayed until you turned the corner.

And she was gone.

I hope you liked it, I very much enjoyed writing it. I’ve used Google for the translation, so apologies for anything being wrong! This a one shot for now, but will add to it later.

#woso smut #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso #smut #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x imagine #woso community #woso soccer #alexia putellas smut #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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purple-plum-petals · 4 months ago

Note

Hi!! I really love your homicipher content!! Could I ask you for Mr Machete headcanons in a relationship?

This man needs love please, I can't find any of it anywhere!!! 😩 And by the way, you write very beautifully! Never stop :D!

If your requests are already closed you can ignore this. Thank you and have a nice day!

⊱ Being in a Relationship with Him ⊰ || Mr. Machete Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Machete (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Mr. Machete’s Route), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Machete Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would – He Also Will Fight You™ Which Is Obviously Not Healhy IRL), Brief Mention of Blood Consumption. Genre: Headcanons, Fluff(?), Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~1,100 words. Request: “Hi!! I really love your homicipher content!! Could I ask you for Mr Machete headcanons in a relationship?” Author’s Note: Of course, and thank you for your kind words! While Mr. Machete isn’t one of my top picks, I can certainly see his appeal. Plus, if I’m being 100% honest with everyone, he’s actually really fun to write for (which I was not expecting at all when I started writing for this fandom). This type of character usually isn’t my favorite, but I’m starting to understand the Mr. Machete fans the more I write for him… 😳 I kind of focused on the traits that Mr. Machete would look for in a partner, and what being in a relationship with him would be like. Of course, I do my best to stay as canon-compliant as possible, which means that this is not a cute list of sweet/fluffy headcanons, so just be warned (there’s nothing too horrible or crazy, just… don’t date anyone who would spear you with a huge sword irl haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I had a really fun time thinking about/writing this one.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🔪: Honestly, being in a relationship with Mr. Machete can be challenging sometimes or simply impossible, especially if you’re expecting him to be a perfect gentleman who treats you like a delicate flower (spoiler alert: he won’t and he never will). He’s a rough and rugged resident of the other world, someone who is constantly on the search for exhilaration – he’s looking for someone who will give him a challenge in battle and someone who will bring stimulation into his existence that he has increasingly grown bored with. If you cannot do either, then he wants nothing to do with you. He has no problem driving his sword into your back if you do not bring him any sense of excitement and overstay your welcome.

🔪: To first catch the attention of someone like Mr. Machete, you need to be strong. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean physical strength (even though that certainly is a bonus and he would prefer someone who is bigger or someone who is physically the same size as he is), but being strong can also be mental fortitude – someone who doesn’t let their mind and emotions take control of their life. He’s not an emotionally available type of person, not seeing the point in discussing emotions or lingering on past mistakes or sorrows, instead choosing to express himself in the only way he knows how to – violence. If there’s any stirring within him, feelings he cannot put a label on, he gets his frustrations and confusion out by slaughtering others or dueling with someone who he feels can stand toe-to-toe with him. So, if you’re in a relationship with him, you have to be okay with battling him and accepting the possibility of being injured (or even dying) as a result. It's kind of his go-to way of communicating things he cannot find the words for.

🔪: He also wants a partner he doesn’t need to babysit or look after, someone who can take care of and protect themselves if danger were to arise. He wants an equal, not someone who is fully dependent on him for physical security or emotional support. He wants someone who he can rely on and who he knows will watch his back. Mr. Machete doesn’t mind someone simply following him around (even if he’ll constantly ask you why you’re doing that despite the fact he does find it somewhat annoying) but, if you’re planning on staying with him for the long term, he prefers someone who can pull their own weight, especially so in a fight.

🔪: If you manage to meet his standards and earn his respect in either physical or verbal battles, congratulations! You now have yourself an emotionally unavailable partner who loves violence and is constantly looking for excitement to fill the aching void inside his chest! He’ll frequently do things in your relationship that go against what you tell him (the primary example being when he just threw the MC across the chasm despite her yelling for him to stop), and he doesn’t understand why it makes you upset, especially since everything usually works out in the end. He doesn’t pick up on context clues either so if you need him to do something specific, you’ll need to tell him that since he doesn’t read between the lines. If you try and explain it to him, though, there’s about a 50/50 chance he’s actually listening to what you’re saying – it depends on his mood.

🔪: However, after the two of you spend more time together, he does find himself (albeit begrudgingly) enjoying your company. He’s always traveled alone, looking for a home he cannot remember yet a deep part of him longs for. He’s never been one to have companions or appreciate another's company… yet here you were – still following him around despite everything, and he actually found himself liking it (maybe, just maybe, you could find a home in one another).

🔪: He would need a partner who was quick-witted and not afraid to bite back at his complaints with snide or snippy remarks. Mr. Machete finds bantering with you surprisingly enjoyable, and he often tries to guess what you’ll say to him before you even have the chance to think of a good comeback. You can tell when his feelings start shifting a bit, too, finding that he criticizes your weapon and stature less frequently and instead praises you on things you do well, such as your improvements in battle (even though he’ll still remark that you move too slow). That’s fine, though – he doesn’t mind training with you more to give you an opportunity to enhance your skills.

🔪: Mr. Machete will never really be soft with you no matter how much time passes, and that’s just something you’ll have to accept if you want to be in a relationship with him. Once you have won him over, though, he will stick by your side through thick and thin, and he finds himself fleeing from battles less often, almost as if he’s trying to impress you (however, if both of you do need to flee, he’ll fling you over his shoulder and leave while carrying you instead of leaving you behind in the dust, so that’s an improvement at least). He’ll also keep you healthy, willingly cutting open his palm without you asking him to do so, placing it above your mouth while his blood trickles down your throat – he’ll give you as much of his blood as you need if it means getting your body to work again. He doesn’t want you to be weak, so he’ll help you stay strong.

🔪: Not big on most typical ways of displaying affection, instead finding the best way to show you his respect and endearment by challenging you to duels. It’s almost like a dance between the two of you, an opportunity to see how much the other has improved while the sound of your weapons clashing echoes through the concrete corridors of the other world in a haunting song of bloodlust and complicated feelings of love. After battle, though, sometimes he’ll just… hold you. It feels surprisingly normal – you sitting in his lap, head resting against his chest while you close your eyes and catch your breath, and his arm flung around your shoulder while he holds you close. The moments when you two aren’t searching for your home or fighting something (or each other) are rare and eerily calm, yet they’re also relaxing and bring you both a sense of peace in each other's presence. Mr. Machete doesn’t find these brief instances boring, either, even though he knows he should detest them... he doesn't mind sharing the occasional moment of quiet with you.

#🌸 . plum writes #homicipher #文字化化 #homicipher x reader #homicipher x you #mr machete #mr machete x reader #mr machete x you #homicipher imagines #homicipher headcanons #imagines #headcanons #fluff #x reader #reader insert

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ankababy · 1 month ago

Text

A Home (part 4)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 5

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Let’s go out!

(TW: dead people, English is not my first language. Also, thank you SOOOOO much for all the support and nice words!! Can’t even describe what I feel💕)

Even in your half-asleep state, still blinking away the last remnants of sleep, you could feel the tension in the air the second you stepped into the living room.

Something about the way Chishiya was sitting, legs crossed on the couch, looking entirely unbothered—but his gaze was locked on something.

Or rather, someone.

Niragi.

Who was standing in the corner of the kitchen, body language practically radiating hostility.

Like a caged animal.

Like they had just been on the brink of tearing each other apart, but the second you entered the room, they both stopped.

Oh.

Had you interrupted something?

Probably.

It wasn’t uncommon.

You just sighed softly, adjusting the sleeves of the oversized sweater hanging off your frame, ignoring the way your side still ached.

“Good morning.”

Neither of them responded. You didn’t expect them to. It didn’t stop you from speaking, though. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Again—silence.

Not surprising.

Chishiya didn’t talk much, and Niragi?

Well.

“Don’t give a fuck.”

Ah. There it was. His voice was mean, a muttered growl from his sad little spot in the corner. He almost looked like he was sent in there for timeout by Chishiya himself. Pfft.

You just tilted your head slightly, taking him in.

He looked… frustrated. Which wasn’t exactly new. Niragi was always angry. Always had been. But today?

He looked ready to rip someone’s throat out.

And you had a feeling you knew who.

You sighed, ignoring it.

They could kill each other later.

You pulled out a pan, setting it on the stove, already used to the silence that followed your words. They never answered right away, and when they did, it was rarely anything pleasant. But that didn’t stop you from speaking.

“I’m going out today.” you said casually, cracking an egg against the rim of the pan. “Need to restock.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Niragi. Of course. His voice came fast, sharp, like it was obvious. Like there wasn’t even a question.

“So will I.”

You almost laughed. Chishiya barely even looked up when he said it, but the words alone were enough to make Niragi’s head snap toward him.

“Oh, fuck off.” Niragi’s voice was already on edge. “I said it first.”

“And?” Chishiya finally met his gaze, and you could already tell he was just saying this to piss him off. “Didn’t realize this was a game of calling dibs.”

“You just wanna come because I’m coming.”

Chishiya scoffed. “Yes, Niragi. That’s exactly it. I wake up every morning thinking about how I can spend more time with you.”

You just sighed, flipping the egg. They were impossible.

It was kind of funny.

For two grown men who had seen death, murder, absolute horror, they sure acted like children.

You sighed through your nose, turning back to the stove as the heat from the pan warmed your skin. This was normal. This was just how they were. Impossible, insufferable, and absolutely ridiculous.

“Alright, so I need more rice—god, if I find any, that’d be a miracle—” You plated the egg, reaching for another. “Vegetables, if any of those survived out there. Some kind of protein, meat, I don’t even care what it is anymore, we’re all desperate at this point.”

Niragi let out a sharp breath, clearly not listening, already too busy glaring at Chishiya across the room. Chishiya, for his part, was pretending he wasn’t being watched, deliberately ignoring him.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Niragi snapped suddenly, shifting against the counter.

“Nothing.” Chishiya said smoothly, still refusing to make eye contact. “Hard to look at something when there’s nothing worth seeing.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You kept talking, trying to drown them out.“Cooking oil, salt, sugar—though I doubt I’ll find that anywhere. Maybe if I break into a supermarket storage again—”

Niragi took a step forward. “You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”

Chishiya just shrugged. “No. I think I’m right.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his shoulders, his body already tense. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll just start fucking shooting.”

“That would imply you have good aim.” Chishiya said flatly.

You sighed. Loudly.

“And water.” you continued, unbothered, not even looking at them. “Maybe more bandages, if we’re lucky. There was a stash in that old pharmacy last time I went, so I’ll check again—”

“Are you actually trying to get your ass killed?” Niragi scoffed, finally acknowledging you. “You talk like the streets aren’t fucking empty.”

You smiled sweetly, flipping the next egg onto a plate. “Well, I have you, don’t I?”

That shut him up.

For a second, at least.

And when you glanced at Chishiya, and he was watching.

You turned back to the counter, gathering the plates with care, placing a spoon and a fork on each one before heading toward them. They were still in their own little world of hostility, Niragi leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, while Chishiya sat slouched on the couch, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger as if completely unbothered.

You, of course, ignored all of it. Instead, you smiled as you approached Niragi first, because he was closest. You placed his plate down in front of him gently, sliding it toward him.

“Eat.” you said, tone soft, soothing, the kind of voice that could tame even the most feral creatures. “You need to keep your energy up.”

Niragi scoffed, but his hands twitched toward the plate anyway.

“And you know what?” you continued, smiling at him as if he wasn’t an absolute menace to society. “I think you’re actually getting better. You’re moving easier.”

He clicked his tongue, looking to the side, irritated. “Like I need you to tell me that.”

You ignored the bite in his voice, letting your fingers barely brush against his forearm as you pulled back.

“Don’t—” His voice came out low, teeth bared like a warning. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You knew better than to take it personally. You knew. But still, there was something sad about it, something you recognized even if he didn’t.

You just smiled, backing off with your hands raised in surrender. “Got it.”

You turned toward Chishiya next, already holding his plate out for him. He didn’t move at first, just stared at you, his eyes tracking every single one of your movements like he was studying you.

You placed the plate in his lap gently, and this time, when you spoke, it was softer. “I made sure to give you more.”

Chishiya raised a brow, glancing down at the plate before flicking his gaze back up to you. “Why?”

“Because you deserve it.” you said simply, with zero hesitation.

His fingers tapped against the ceramic, and for a second, his gaze almost faltered, something barely noticeable shifting behind his eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone.

You reached out before you could think about it, the tips of your fingers barely grazing against his sleeve. It wasn’t like when you touched Niragi—it was just gentle.

“You should eat too.” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I know you played a hard game last night.”

Chishiya didn’t react right away, just tilted his head slightly, like a cat watching something interesting.

“You didn’t know that.” he finally said, amused.

You gave him a look. “I had a pretty good guess.”

He hummed, clearly entertained by your logic. But in the end, he picked up his fork.

And you knew that was his way of saying he’d listen.

You sighed softly, pulling back, taking a step away from both of them as if giving them space.

“You both should eat before it gets cold.” you murmured.

Chishiya, of course, had no reaction. But Niragi let out a short, frustrated breath, picking up his fork just to prove a point.

“Yeah, yeah.” Niragi muttered, stabbing into his food. “Keep acting like our fucking mom.”

You turned back to the kitchen, moving toward the sink to start cleaning up the mess you had made. You didn’t see the way Niragi’s jaw clenched when he tasted the food because of how fucking good it was. Or how Chishiya kept his eyes on your every single movement.

The streets were empty. Silent.

Nature had started taking back what had once belonged to it—vines creeping up buildings, splitting through cracked concrete, swallowing whole storefronts that used to be bustling with people. It should have been beautiful, in a way. Maybe it was. But all you could think about was the stillness of it all.

You walked in the middle. Chishiya on one side, Niragi on the other—only because it put as much space between them as possible. They refused to walk any closer to each other.

“Maybe I can find some paint somewhere.” you talked, stepping over a patch of broken glass, careful not to cut yourself. “The walls in the apartment are so boring. I want to paint them pink.”

You felt Niragi glance at you, skeptical. “Pink?”

“Yes.” you nodded, smiling. “A soft pink. Something warm, you know? We could make the place actually feel like a home.”

Chishiya made a noise. Not quite a laugh, but close. “That’s cute.”

“You’re cute.” you shot back without thinking.

Niragi snorted. Chishiya just gave you a side glance, as if assessing if you were being sarcastic.

You weren’t.

You kept talking, ignoring their reactions.

“And maybe I’ll find some fairy lights, too.” you continued, stepping around a rusted-out car, the windshield long shattered. “Or something like that. Make it cozy. Oh! And pillows, lots of them, because the couch is so uncomfortable—”

You stopped.

Because Niragi had stopped.

He was standing in front of a body.

A long-dead one.

You didn’t look. You turned your head immediately, staring at the sky, at the vines, at literally anything else.

“Ugh, finally.” Niragi sighed, and there was something in his voice that made your stomach drop.

You swallowed, heart hammering. “Niragi—”

“Shut up.” he muttered, grinning. You didn’t have to see him to hear it.

When you turned back, you saw it.

The gun.

It was filthy, rust creeping along the edges, but Niragi was holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Like it was his fucking soulmate.

“Finally.” he muttered, fingers moving over the weapon, checking it with expert hands. “You have no idea how much I fucking missed this.”

Your stomach twisted. “You don’t need that.”

He laughed. Actually laughed as he pointed the barrel up at the sky and pulled the trigger.

Click.

No bullets.

He grinned, shaking his head. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Chishiya, standing beside you with his hands in his pockets, let out a slow breath. “You’re a child.”

Niragi shot him a look. “Shut the fuck up.”

You placed a hand on your chest, steadying yourself, breathing in deeply.

“Can we just—” you hesitated, shaking your head. “Can we just go?”

Niragi was too busy inspecting his new prize. “In a minute.”

You looked away again, suddenly so fucking tired.

Niragi wasn’t going to let go of the gun. That much was obvious. You had to live with it.

And so, with your hands gripping your sleeves, you kept walking. And they followed.

And you tried to ignore the gun. You really did.

But it was hard when Niragi was practically wagging his tail about it, glancing at every corpse, every ruined building, every broken-down car in search of bullets.

It was almost… comical.

Like a dog sniffing around for scraps.

You watched him for a while, walking ahead of you, muttering to himself as he kicked at debris. Then, finally, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You know, Niragi…” you started sweetly, clasping your hands together.

He didn’t look at you. “What?”

“You’re kind of like a puppy right now.”

That got him. He stopped, turned, narrowed his eyes. “The fuck did you just say?”

Chishiya huffed.

“A puppy.” you repeated innocently, clasping your hands behind your back, tilting your head slightly. “You know, all excited, sniffing around, looking for something to chew on…”

You almost heard Chishiya smirk.

Niragi’s lips curled. “Oh, you wanna talk about chewing, sweetheart?”

Your grin stayed, unbothered. “That’s what you took from that?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You really don’t know what you’re saying, do you?”

“Of course I do.” you said, clasping your hands in front of you now, rocking on your heels. “But I also know you only ever engage in my conversations when you get the chance to say something disgusting, so I’m not surprised.”

Chishiya let out a sharp breath through his nose, and when you glanced at him, he wasn’t looking at Niragi—he was looking at you.

“Am I wrong?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Not at all.” he answered, monotone.

Niragi clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “God, you two are fucking annoying.”

You smiled brightly. “I know!”

Niragi grumbled, going back to searching through some poor guy’s pockets, ignoring you.

You turned back to Chishiya, who was still walking beside you, hands in his pockets. “See? He never answers me unless he can turn it into something filthy.”

Chishiya blinked. “Because he’s a dog.”

“Exactly!” you laughed.

“And you’re still feeding him.”

That made you stop for half a second.

Before you could think too much about that, Niragi called out, voice laced with triumph.

“Fucking finally.”

Your stomach dropped.

Chishiya sighed.

You turned your head slowly.

Niragi grinned, holding up a bullet.

“One down.” he said, twirling it between his fingers. “Now we’re talking.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You were just walking, minding your own business, talking to yourself because neither of them cared enough to properly respond, when—

CRUNCH.

Glass shattered under Chishiya’s foot as he suddenly turned ninety degrees and walked straight into a building.

Through a broken window.

Just—gone.

What the fuck?

You blinked at the now-empty space beside you.

Your mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

“—Chishiya—?”

“Don’t follow me.”

And then… silence. Like he never even existed.

Oh. Okay. Sure.

You sighed, crossing your arms. Why were you even surprised? Chishiya was… Chishiya. He was always in his own little world, floating somewhere above everyone else’s heads, thinking things you’d never fully understand. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with no explanation.

So, yeah. Sure. Go ahead. Disappear through a broken window.

You weren’t worried. He’d be fine.

…probably.

“Hey.”

You turned your head.

Niragi was staring at you. He tilted his chin towards the ground. “Check that guy’s pockets for me.”

“What?”

He nodded toward the corpse.

The one right next to your feet.

The one you just now noticed.

You yelped.

Spinning away, you squeezed your eyes shut, hugging yourself. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

Niragi snorted. “Jesus. You’re still like that?”

“Yes!” you huffed. “What do you mean, ‘still like that’? I’m normal!”

He scoffed, walking over and crouching down beside the body. “Whatever.”

You refused to look.

He rummaged through the pockets, humming to himself. You hugged yourself tighter. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” he said.

You sighed sharply. “Why are you like this?”

He didn’t answer right away. Probably too focused on looting a dead guy.

“So… what happened?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“When you came back all bloody.”

Oh. That.

You glanced down at yourself, like you’d find some leftover evidence of it on your clothes.

“Forgot to tell me, didn’t you?” he said, glancing up.

You pursed your lips, a little guilty.

Yeah. You forgot.

“Not much to say.” you shrugged. “A hearts game. Only one could make it out. Got attacked. Killed a guy.”

Niragi raised a brow. “That’s it?”

You hesitated.

Well…

No.

That wasn’t it.

There was more.

You bit your lip.

He watched you, smirk fading slightly. “Spit it out.”

You sighed. “I ran into these… guys.”

His brows furrowed.

“They were gonna—” You paused. “Well. You know.” You cleared your throat. “But I got away. Killed one, the rest ran. I handled it.”

He finally looked at you.

“Next time,” he said, standing up. “I’ll come with you.”

You watched him.

Felt something soft settle in your ribs.

For some reason, you couldn’t say anything to that at the moment, so you asked: “You find anything good?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Maybe.”

Your heart was warm, suddenly.

“Let’s go.” Niragi said, brushing past you, hands in his pockets, that bullet still rolling between his fingers.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the dark building Chishiya had disappeared into. “I want to wait for him.”

Niragi let out a short laugh. “He could be anywhere by now.”

You didn’t like that. It wasn’t true—was it? Chishiya wouldn’t just wander off without coming back, would he? Well… actually, maybe he would. He was impossible to predict, slipping in and out of things as easily as breathing. But still, you had this feeling—this certainty—that he would return.

“Just a little longer.” you said, crossing your arms, eyes fixed on the broken window.

Niragi groaned, rolling his head back like he was suffering. “Fucking hell. Fine. Whatever.”

But you didn’t have to wait long. Just as Niragi was about to start bitching again, there he was.

Like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just disappeared for twenty minutes without a word.

Chishiya stepped right back through the same broken window, landing smoothly on the pavement with a soft crunch.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but before you could say anything, he just started walking.

No explanation. No acknowledgment.

You had no choice but to fall into step beside him, looking up at his face. He wasn’t injured, wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t carrying anything new. What the hell had he even been doing in there?

You opened your mouth to ask, but then—

“Finally.” Niragi scoffed, kicking a stray rock down the road. “Can we go now, princess?”

Your gaze flicked between them before you sighed, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah.”

And so, you continued.

The empty streets stretched ahead of you, littered with the crumbled remains of a world long gone. Faded signs, shattered windows, vines creeping up the sides of buildings that once buzzed with life. The silence was thick, only broken by the soft scuffs of your footsteps and the occasional distant creak of something settling.

Chishiya walked with his usual, lazy pace, hands tucked away, as if this was just another walk. Niragi, on the other hand, was distracted, constantly looking around, eyes flicking over the rubble, the corpses, the long-abandoned cars with shattered windows.

He was still searching.

Not for food. Not for supplies.

For bullets.

You watched him, a smile creeping onto your lips. “This is kind of like walking a dog.”

His head snapped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. “Huh?”

You grinned, gesturing to him. “You’re all excited about your new toy, searching the ground for more treats. I should get you a leash.”

Chishiya made a soft sound—almost a chuckle—but said nothing.

Niragi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch your mouth.”

You beamed. “Oh? Did I hit a nerve?”

His lips curled into a sharp, toothy grin. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Dogs bite when they get annoyed.” You mumbled.

He licked his teeth, tilting his head, gaze dropping down your body in a way that made your skin feel weird. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

A sharp exhale came from Chishiya. Not a laugh. More like an exhausted why am I here kind of noise.

You shot him a quick glance before rolling your eyes. “You’re gross.”

Niragi only gave you a smug little smirk before suddenly darting forward, kicking over a pile of rubble, eyes scanning for anything useful.

You turned to Chishiya instead. “Where’d you even go back there?”

His eyes flicked to you, lingering for a moment, then drifted forward again. “Needed to check something.”

You waited for more.

Nothing.

“…And?”

He didn’t even blink. “Checked it.”

Right. Of course.

You huffed softly, shaking your head.

You spotted a store, you changed direction without a word, heading straight for it. A drugstore—or, well, what was left of one. The glass doors had been shattered, vines creeping along the edges of the building, but you could still make out the shelves inside, stocked with all the little things that made life a bit more comfortable. Soap, deodorant, skincare, perfume.

You didn’t need to say anything. You just went in.

“The fuck?!” Niragi groaned, stopping dead in his tracks. “No way in hell am I going in there.”

You turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because it’s all that girly bullshit.” He made a face. “Not my problem if you wanna smell like a fuckin’ flower.”

You sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your hip. “Fine, go find a stick to play with or something.”

“And don’t bring it back, boy.” Chishiya mumbled.

Your lips twitched.

Niragi’s eyes narrowed into a glare so sharp it could cut glass. “You two think you’re real fucking funny, huh?”

“Yes.” you said simply.

“Very.” Chishiya added, completely deadpan.

Niragi clicked his tongue and turned away with an annoyed scoff. “Whatever. Have fun sniffing shit.”

And with that, he disappeared back onto the street, hands stuffed in his pockets.

You grinned. Then, with a small shake of your head, you turned back toward the store, stepping carefully over the shattered glass at the entrance.

Chishiya followed.

The inside was dim, dust clinging to the air, but surprisingly intact. The shelves were lined with hygiene products, medicine bottles, and the occasional box of food long expired. You trailed your fingers along the edge of one of the aisles, scanning the labels, your eyes softening.

It was weird. You never really thought about how much you missed this stuff until it was gone. The simple comfort of picking out a nice soap, a scented lotion, a clean razor. It wasn’t even about luxury—it was about feeling human.

You glanced over your shoulder at Chishiya. “Might as well grab some stuff for you guys.”

He gave a slow blink. “There are barely people left alive.”

“And?” You plucked a small, familiar bottle off the shelf. “No excuse to stink.”

He didn’t argue. Not that he ever really argued—just made comments, short and to the point. If he thought this was a waste of time, he wasn’t bothered enough to stop you.

You kept moving, scanning the shelves, picking things up, setting them aside. Deodorant. Soap. A bottle of antiseptic, because you knew them, and knew someone would end up bloody before the week was over.

Then, on impulse, you grabbed a small container of body oil, twisting off the cap. You took a sniff—sweet, warm vanilla. Then, without thinking, you held it out to Chishiya. “Smell this.”

He stared at you for a second.

Then, after a long pause, he took the bottle and gave it a brief sniff.

“Too strong.” he said simply, handing it back.

You hummed. “Niragi might like it, though.”

“Obviously.”

You smiled a little, moving further down the aisle, grabbing another bottle of soap and holding it out to him again.

This time, he didn’t hesitate as long. Just gave it a quick sniff, then handed it back. “Better.”

That was basically approval.

You tucked it into the growing pile of things you’d set aside, moving, gathering more essentials, all for them. You didn’t even make him carry the bag, despite how much heavier it was getting.

You didn’t ask for help. You didn’t expect it.

Because that wasn’t the point.

You weren’t doing this because you had to. You weren’t doing it because you owed them anything.

You just cared.

You cared a lot.

You scanned the shelves, fingers trailing along the dusty labels until your gaze landed on a small row of razors.

You glanced at Chishiya, tilting your head slightly. “Do you guys need these for your little faces?”

He gave you a flat look.

You pursed your lips. “I don’t know how it works. Do you shave every day? Once a week? Do you even have to?”

You grabbed a few razors before he could even answer, tossing them into the bag with everything else. “Just in case.” you murmured to yourself, adjusting the weight on your arm before continuing down the aisle.

Chishiya followed, hands still stuffed lazily in his pockets.

It was quiet for a moment, just the sound of your footsteps against tile, until you broke the silence again.

“You know,” you started. “I used to love doing this. Just walking through stores, picking up random things, even if I didn’t need them.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. It was relaxing, I guess.” You reached for a bottle of lotion, twisting it open, sniffing it absently before tucking it back onto the shelf. “Something about being able to choose. I think we take that for granted—getting to pick things, little things, just because we want to.”

“You could’ve chosen not to come here.” he pointed out.

You smiled faintly. “True. But I like taking care of things. People.”

“You do.” he said simply.

It wasn’t a compliment. It wasn’t admiration. It was just fact.

You didn’t expect him to understand it. People like him—like Niragi—weren’t the type to look at kindness and just accept it.

No, they had to question it. They had to pick it apart, turn it over, examine it from every angle, waiting for the moment it stopped making sense.

Because in their world, kindness wasn’t real.

Not without an ulterior motive. Not without some hidden cost.

“You don’t trust it.” you murmured absently, grabbing another bottle of soap and tucking it into the bag. “Me, I mean.”

His silence was answer enough.

“You trust that I’m harmless,” you continued“but not the way I think. The way I act. You think people like me are either stupid or hiding something.”

He didn’t confirm it. He didn’t deny it, either.

You exhaled softly, shaking your head. “You ever think maybe I’m just… what I seem?”

“I think,” he said, voice slow. “that people are what they have to be.”

You paused, glancing at him. “Meaning?”

He looked back at you, expression unreadable. “People adapt.”

“Like you.”

“Like everyone.”

You let that settle between you for a moment, shifting the weight of the bag on your shoulder.

“You think Niragi adapted?” you asked.

He let out a short, quiet breath that could barely pass as a laugh. “Niragi is a cornered animal. He does whatever keeps him from feeling weak.”

You hummed, nodding thoughtfully.

It made sense.

Niragi didn’t just adapt—he overcorrected. He wasn’t just surviving, he was lashing out, sinking his teeth into anything that made him feel like prey.

“Doesn’t explain you, though.” you murmured.

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded, lazy. “Doesn’t it?”

You thought about it for a second. Then, finally, you shook your head. “No. You’re not trying to protect yourself.”

Something flickered in his gaze, just for a second. Not surprise, not annoyance—just mild intrigue.

“You already know you’ll survive.” you said softly. “You don’t need to fight for that. You don’t need to chase control like Niragi does. You already have it.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away, either.

You smiled a little. “So why are you still here?”

He held your gaze for a moment longer before finally glancing away, giving nothing away. “Maybe I just enjoy watching the circus.” he murmured.

“I think you enjoy being in it just as much.”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t deny it, either.

The two of you stepped out of the store, the air outside felt heavier, thick with the faint smell of overgrown plants. The streets were quiet, as always, abandoned buildings around you.

You adjusted the weight of the bag on your shoulder, glancing at Chishiya. He hadn’t offered to carry anything—not that you expected him to—but he had stayed with you the entire time, watching, listening, occasionally engaging when something piqued his interest.

“You ever miss it?” you asked, shifting the strap of the bag.

He didn’t look at you. “Miss what?”

“Life before all this.” You gestured vaguely at the emptiness around you. “When things were normal.”

He finally turned his head, eyes half-lidded. “Define normal.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted. “but your version of normal and mine were probably very different.”

You glanced at him, tilting your head. “Alright, then. What was normal for you?”

He didn’t answer right away. He walked in silence for a few paces, hands still lazily tucked into his pockets, his footsteps soft against the cracked pavement. “Normal was predictable.”

You blinked, waiting for him to elaborate.

“People,” he continued. “are predictable. The way they think, the way they react, the way they make their own choices. They follow patterns. They convince themselves they’re in control when they never were to begin with.”

You studied him for a moment, chewing on his words. “Sounds lonely.”

He gave you a slow glance. “Why?”

“Because people surprise me all the time.” you said simply. “I don’t always understand them. I don’t always know what they’ll do. But I like that. Then I figure it out anyway, everyone needs time.”

He exhaled softly, something barely passing as a chuckle under his breath. “That’s because you assume people are good.”

“No.” you corrected. “I assume people are people.”

He hummed, considering that, but didn’t argue.

Before you could say anything else, you spotted a figure a little ways down the street.

Niragi.

He wasn’t far. In fact, he was still right there, crouched over something, rummaging through debris like some sort of stray.

Your lips twitched. “Looks like he didn’t get very far.”

“Like a dog who got distracted halfway through running away.” Chishiya mumbled.

You grinned. “Maybe he found a squirrel.”

Chishiya snorted. “If he did, he’d probably shoot it just for the fun of it.”

You bit back a laugh. “Hey, maybe not. Maybe he just wanted a little chase first.”

The moment you spoke, Niragi straightened up, holding something in his hands—his gun, of course. He looked pleased with himself, cocking his head at you two. “Took you long enough.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, don’t mind us. We were just wondering if you got distracted chasing squirrels.”

His eye twitched. “The fuck?”

Chishiya let out a slow exhale. “Yeah, she’s giving you the benefit of the doubt. I personally assumed you just got lost like an idiot.”

Niragi rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head. “You’re both so fucking funny, really.”

“I try.” you said sweetly.

He flicked his gaze to your bag. “Stocked up on your girly shit?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, unbothered. “Got stuff for you too.”

That made him pause. He squinted at you, like he was trying to figure out if you were lying. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

Chishiya sighed dramatically. “A complete waste of supplies.”

Niragi shot him a glare, but you only laughed.

“Be nice.” you scolded lightly, nudging Chishiya with your elbow.

He gave you a look, clearly unimpressed, but didn’t say anything.

Niragi looked between the two of you. Then, with a smug smirk, he slung his gun over his shoulder and started walking. “Alright, whatever. Let’s get moving.”

You followed after him, Chishiya beside you, and for all the chaos they brought into your life, for all the absolute insanity they carried with them, you really didn’t mind. You liked walking between them like now, as always, keeping the peace, or at least trying to as Niragi walked ahead, his fingers wrapped around his gun. He’d been trigger happy since the second he got his hands on it, firing at anything he felt like. The sound of bullets rang through the empty streets, shattering glass, tearing through rusted-out cars, sending birds scattering from the vines creeping up abandoned buildings.

He was so fucking pleased with himself. Every time a shot went off, he grinned, licking his teeth like some predator tasting blood.

You watched him, arms crossed. “You’re gonna run out of bullets before you even need them.”

“Relax.” he mused, reloading almost sensually. “I’ll find more.”

Chishiya, hands lazily tucked into his pockets, exhaled through his nose. “Yeah, you better. You’re burning through them like an idiot.”

Niragi smirked at that, cocking his head. “Oh? You worried about me, little man?”

Chishiya didn’t even look at him. “Not even remotely.”

You sighed, shaking your head as Niragi let off another shot. The fuckass wasn’t even aiming at anything, just shooting to shoot. The power in his hands made him glow. He was practically vibrating with it.

A gunshot.

Not from Niragi.

Not from Chishiya.

Not from you.

Your breath caught as the sharp crack of a bullet ripped through the air, hitting a rusted-out street sign a few feet from Niragi’s head. The metal screeched on impact. Your ears rang.

What the fuck?

Before you could even react, Chishiya was already moving.

Not fast, not panicked, just… calm.

Too calm.

With an almost lazy tilt of his head, he muttered, “Come on.” and pulled you by the wrist toward cover, completely unbothered that someone had just shot at you.

Meanwhile, Niragi was already on the hunt.

Gun raised, smiling like this was the best fucking thing that had happened all day, he moved toward the source of the shot. His excitement was wild, the air around him practically crackling as he walked forward, licking his lips.

Another shot rang out—missed.

A flash of movement. A figure, not far, panicked hands trembling around the barrel of a gun, breath hitching in raw fear.

“Shit.” the man muttered under his breath, backpedaling, but Niragi was on him.

It was over before it even started.

One shot—clean.

Straight to the chest.

The man crumpled, barely getting a strangled gasp past his lips before hitting the ground.

And Niragi—god, Niragi—he was fucking grinning. Chest rising and falling, he sighed, fucking satisfied. His fingers twitched against the trigger, almost tempted to fire again, just for the fuck of it.

“That all you got?” he muttered to the dead man. “Pathetic.”

You exhaled sharply.

The way he thrived in it, fed off it, fuck.

And yet—the moment his gaze flickered to yours, when he saw the way you were looking at him—his shoulders squared. He tilted his chin, almost like he was daring you to say something about it.

But instead, you moved forward.

Softly, carefully, your hands rose, fingertips brushing against his jaw as you cradled his face. His skin was warm, his pulse racing beneath your thumbs, his breath still heavy from the rush.

“Are you okay?” you murmured, searching his eyes.

He froze.

The smirk, the arrogance—it faltered.

You weren’t scolding him. You weren’t judging him.

You were worried.

And fuck, something about that—

He hated it.

His lips parted, but nothing came out. His body locked up, every muscle tensing, his mind short-circuiting as you looked at him like he was something fragile.

You pulled away.

Right.

He told you not to fucking touch him.

Your fingers slipped from his skin, and you took a small step back, gaze dropping.

“Sorry.” you murmured, voice softer.

For some reason—that pissed him off.

His jaw tightened, fingers flexing around the grip of his gun as he glared at you. “Tch. My neck hurts.” he muttered suddenly, tone mean. “Check that, though.”

You blinked, looking up at him.

What?

He rolled his eyes, exaggerated, and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Fucking hell. My neck. Feels stiff. Check it or whatever.”

It was a shitty excuse.

So obvious.

But you didn’t call him on it.

You knew what this was.

And so, gently, you reached out again, fingers brushing against his skin, feeling for any tension, checking him the way he so obviously wanted you to.

He let out a slow exhale, eyes flickering shut for just a second.

And Chishiya? He just watched. Because he knew exactly what this was.

And what was worse? So did you.

You didn’t linger. There was no reason to, no point in standing over a dead body longer than necessary. Even if you did feel the heavy weight of it in your stomach, the twisting sensation in your chest that reminded you—that was a person.

Was.

But Niragi was grinning as you touched him, and Chishiya was indifferent, and you… well, you had to keep moving, didn’t you?

So you did.

Turning on your heel, you pulled your hands away from Niragi’s soft face and you exhaled, brushing your hands against your sides as if shaking something off. Maybe you were. Maybe you had to.

“Alright.” you said, shifting your focus. “Let’s go. We still need to hit a pharmacy, and I’m not planning on spending all day out here.”

Chishiya didn’t react much, as expected, but over your shoulder, you caught the faintest movement of his hand, waving lazily in Niragi’s direction.

Pfft. Oh, come on.

Your gaze flickered to Niragi, just in time to see him flip him off.

You bit your lip, amused, and instead of ignoring it like any sane person would, you just waved back.

That was you.

The sunshine between two storms. A soft glow in the middle of static and fire, cutting through the men who barely even liked each other, much less the world around them.

A small thing, a little thing, but something that stood out.

Because who the fuck waves back at that?

You.

Of course you did.

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes so hard it looked like it physically hurt. “Tch. You’re so fucking weird.” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. Just acknowledgment.

Like he didn’t just get you to touch him. What he loved so much.

And Chishiya? He was watching you. Like he was filing away every small action in that mind of his, tucking it next to all the other pieces of you he was slowly figuring out.

But you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you smiled, stepping forward. “Come on.” you urged, looking between them. “We still have stuff to get.”

With that, you started walking, and they followed.

Niragi trailed next to you, searching the ground for spare bullets like some stray dog sniffing for food, his fingers twitching every time he saw anything remotely useful. And Chishiya? He kept his hands in his pockets as he observed the ruins of the city.

They were so different, but somehow, both ended up here, next to you.

Maybe that was the funniest part.

“So,” you started, breaking the silence. “do either of you need anything from the pharmacy, or is this gonna be another situation where I carry everything for you?”

“You offered.” Chishiya pointed out.

“You let me.” you countered.

He didn’t argue.

And Niragi? Well, he wasn’t listening. Too busy kicking over debris, turning over bodies, rifling through pockets.

You frowned, eyes flicking to him. “Do you really think you’re gonna find more ammo just lying around like that?”

He shot you a look. “Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

That made Chishiya huff a quiet breath, almost like a laugh, and you swore you saw the faintest flicker of something pass through Niragi’s expression before he clicked his tongue and kept looking.

“Sniffing around for something to chew on.” you murmured after a moment, watching him dig through a discarded bag.

Chishiya glanced at you. “Don’t encourage him.”

Niragi’s grin was slow, dangerous. “Careful, baby.” he purred, standing up straight, the gun dangling loosely in his fingers. “You might just end up being that something.”

Your face heated.

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. “That was pathetic.”

Niragi shot him a glare. “The fuck did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Okay, okay.” you cut in, holding up a hand. “Can we go five minutes without one of you threatening to kill the other?”

Niragi clicked his tongue, stuffing his free hand in his pocket. “Not my fault he pisses me off just by existing.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly. “Maybe if your self-control wasn’t the equivalent of a feral animal’s, you’d handle it better.”

Niragi’s eye twitched.

Oh, god.

“Anyway,” you said, loudly. “pharmacy. Let’s go before the two of you actually start throwing punches.”

Niragi sneered. “You think I’d actually waste my energy on him?”

Chishiya didn’t even blink. “You don’t have enough to waste.”

Oh, he was evil.

You covered your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh threatening to bubble up, because if you did, Niragi might actually snap.

But instead of firing back, Niragi just clicked his pierced tongue again, sending you a glare before walking ahead, muttering curses under his breath.

And Chishiya? He just smirked. To himself.

What an asshole.

But you were grinning as you followed after them, walking in the middle, keeping them separated.

It was weird.

You were weird.

Because somehow, even with a trigger happy psychopath on one side and a calculating sociopath on the other, you still managed to make it work.

And somehow—somehow, they let you.

The three of you made it back to the apartment without much issue—well, aside from Niragi shooting at random shit on the way back, and Chishiya nearly vanishing into another abandoned building. Again. But overall, it was smooth. For once.

You kicked the door shut behind you, adjusting the heavy bags in your arms as you watched the two of them immediately collapse onto the couch, sitting as far apart as humanly possible.

Honestly, if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were allergic to each other.

Chishiya sat back, one leg propped up, hands still lazily stuffed in his hoodie pocket. Watching. Niragi, on the other hand, slouched forward, head tilting back as he let out a long exhale, gun still loosely gripped in his hand.

“Wow.” you said, teasingly, setting the bags down with a soft thud. “You two look exhausted. Who knew following me around all day would be so hard?”

Niragi cracked an eye open. “Shut the fuck up.”

You giggled.

Then, you clapped your hands together.

“Alright!” you chirped, crouching down and opening the first bag. “Haul!”

Chishiya blinked slowly, unimpressed. Niragi groaned. “You’re seriously gonna—”

“Yes.”

Neither of them moved.

But there was nothing else to do. No distractions, no other noise. Just you, their only source of entertainment at the moment.

And so, you started.

First bag.

“Okay.” you said, pulling out the first item, setting it on the coffee table. “Soap. This one is for me, but I also got a few for you guys. Niragi, yours is this one—” you pulled out a different soap, one of the ones you made Chishiya smell earlier, placing it in front of him, “—because I think you’ll actually use it if you like the way it smells.”

Niragi snorted. “You saying I stink?”

“I’m saying I’m encouraging good hygiene.”

Chishiya huffed a breath through his nose, and you smiled before pulling out the next one. “Chishiya, yours is this one.” you said, placing it down. “I figured you wouldn’t really care, so I just picked one that was clean and simple.”

Chishiya didn’t react much, just flicked his gaze to it and nodded once.

You pulled out another thing.

“Deodorant.” you said. “For both of you. Again, good hygiene.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, but he took it.

Chishiya, again, just nodded.

You moved on.

“Shampoo.” you continued, pulling out a few bottles. “I got different ones for each of us, obviously. This one is mine, this one’s yours—” you pointed at Niragi, “—and this one is yours.” You pointed at Chishiya. “I was gonna get conditioner, too, but I doubt either of you care enough to use it, so I only got for myself. Tell me if you want to borrow it.”

Niragi grinned. “You’d use it on me, wouldn’t you, baby?”

You didn’t even look up. “No.”

Chishiya smirked, and Niragi’s grin dropped.

You kept going. More essentials. Toothpaste, toothbrushes, things they probably didn’t even think about grabbing for themselves. You went through each one, explaining why you got it, who it was for, how you were going to make sure they used it.

“You are not going to be living in my space and smelling like absolute garbage.” you said, very matter-of-factly.

Niragi chuckled. “You think you can control me?”

“I can control whether or not you get dinner tonight.”

That actually shut him up.

Next bag.

Medical supplies.

“Bandages.” you said, pulling them out. “Disinfectant, painkillers, gauze. You guys get hurt way too much for my liking, so I stocked up on as much as I could.”

Neither of them could argue with that. Because you were right.

You continued.

Razors.

“I don’t know how often you guys shave, but I figured it was better to have some than not.”

Chishiya just tilted his head slightly.

Niragi scoffed. “You’re acting like this is some normal world where we care about that shit.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Because you look better clean shaven.”

That actually made him pause.

Chishiya raised an eyebrow.

You moved on before Niragi could get cocky about it.

Snacks.

“Didn’t find much, but I got what I could.” you said, pulling out a few small things—some chips, a chocolate bar that was still sealed. “Not the best, but it’s something.”

Niragi grabbed the chocolate immediately.

Chishiya let him.

The final bag.

“Okay.” you said, voice softer now, pulling out something specifically for them. “This is… just a small thing, but I thought it might be nice.”

You placed two objects on the table. One was a lighter—not a cheap one, but a good one, sleek and silver. The other was a pocket knife.

Niragi’s eyes flickered.

Chishiya’s fingers twitched.

“I thought you might like them.” you said, genuine, soft. “You don’t have to take them, but… yeah.”

Silence.

Chishiya picked up the lighter, turning it over in his fingers, inspecting it.

Niragi took the knife, flicking it open with a slow grin.

They didn’t thank you.

They never would.

But they kept them.

And that was enough.

With that, you let out a breath, sitting back. “Okay.” you said, smiling. “That’s everything.”

They were still looking at their gifts.

And you just watched.

Because they didn’t appreciate you enough. But they didn’t reject you, either.

And that was something.

You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a satisfied sigh. They took everything you gave them. No complaints—well, aside from Niragi’s usual attitude—but they kept their things. That was what mattered.

Then, you gestured to the one bag you hadn’t gone through yet.

“And the food’s in there.” you said simply, already picking it up and heading toward the kitchen. “Which means I’m gonna make dinner.”

Neither of them moved.

You knew they wouldn’t.

So you went on your own.

God, you were an angel.

They weren’t even good people. They weren’t kind or grateful, they weren’t soft or sweet or anything you were—and yet, you were still here, making them dinner, caring for them like they deserved it.

They didn’t.

But you did it anyway.

You set the bag down on the counter, rolling your shoulders before pulling everything out, sorting through what you had. Canned vegetables, some dried things, a few things you could throw together into something actually edible. Cooking stole your attention from your aching side.

“You guys want anything specific?”

Silence.

“You’re making it, aren’t you?” Niragi scoffed. “Why the fuck would we care?”

You hummed. “You should be careful with that mouth of yours.” you teased. “What if I just give you a plate of plain rice and let you starve?”

Niragi grinned. “I think we both know you wouldn’t.”

You sighed.“Unfortunately, you’re right.”

Chishiya hadn’t said anything. He just sat there, watching, arms crossed, always observing. You didn’t push him. Instead, you went about cooking.

Eventually, Niragi got bored of sitting in silence, grumbling under his breath as he stood up and wandered toward the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched.

You glanced at him. “What?”

He smirked. “Never seen someone actually enjoy making food before.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, considering you’d probably eat dirt if I didn’t make anything, someone’s gotta do it.”

Niragi chuckled.

Chishiya finally spoke from the couch. “She’s not wrong.”

Niragi immediately turned to glare at him. “Shut the fuck up, lab rat.”

Chishiya didn’t even look at him.

You laughed.

The rest of the meal prep was surprisingly peaceful. You stirred the pot, checking the food, feeling their eyes on you. Niragi never moved too far away, always lingering, bumping into you on purpose like he didn’t know how to exist without taking up space.

Chishiya never joined, but he never left, either. And that was enough.

Eventually, the food was ready. You plated everything carefully, adding extra to Chishiya’s plate because he deserved it.

You carried the plates over, setting them down in front of them, so sweet, like an angel handing down gifts from heaven.

And they just… took them.

Because that’s what they did.

And you let them.

You gathered your things—a lot of them, honestly—picking up everything you needed before turning to the two boys still sitting on the couch. They had already started eating, Niragi shoveling food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days, Chishiya taking slow bites. They didn’t even look at you.

Still, you smiled. You always smiled.

“Alright, I’m heading to bed.” you said, balancing your things in your arms. “You guys can knock if you need anything, okay?”

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Of course.

You sighed, happy for some reason. “Good night, boys.”

And with that, you left. Your door clicked shut behind you, enclosing you in a space that was finally, finally quiet.

But outside, the two of them sat in silence.

For a moment, they just ate, neither of them acknowledging the other.

“Kill yourself.” Niragi said simply, as if he were suggesting Chishiya take a walk.

Chishiya didn’t even look up. “I’ll consider it.”

Silence again.

They were so different.

And yet, so similar.

Niragi was a wildfire. Destructive, uncontrollable, burning through everything in his path just to prove he could. He thrived on chaos, on violence, on power. A dog that had been caged too long.

And Chishiya? Cold. A slow-burning ember instead of a raging flame, waiting for the perfect moment to spark into something dangerous.

He hated Niragi.

But deep down, he could see the similarities.

And that was what made him hate him the most.

But what made them stay? Both of them?

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

Niragi, who could’ve been anywhere, who could’ve killed and taken what he wanted like he used to, stayed here. In this apartment. With you. Chishiya, who had no reason to tie himself down, no reason to rely on anyone but himself, stayed too.

Why?

Why did they let you do what you did? Why did they sit through your endless chatter, why did they tolerate your soft hands and warm words, why didn’t they push you away like they had done to everyone else before you?

It wasn’t kindness. Kindness was fleeting. Weak. Kindness got people killed.

But you? You weren’t just being nice.

You were invested.

In them.

And that was what made the difference.

You weren’t just another person trying to survive, someone using them as much as they used you. You weren’t after power, you weren’t trying to manipulate them, you weren’t even trying to change them. You were just there. Cooking for them. Talking to them. Treating them like they were people.

It was… strange.

Unsettling.

Niragi wasn’t used to it. He had spent so much time tearing the world apart, playing god with people’s lives, forcing his way into power so no one could ever hurt him again. No one cared about him. Not really. They feared him, they hated him, they wanted him dead.

But you? You worried about him. You asked him if he was okay, you praised him, you touched him.

And god, he hated it.

(He didn’t hate it.)

(He hated how much he liked it.)

Chishiya, on the other hand, saw it for what it was. You were just the kind of person who did this. You looked at people and wanted to know them. You looked at monsters and wondered what made them that way.

You thought you were smart about it. And in a way, you were. You weren’t naive. You weren’t weak. You weren’t someone who thought love could fix people, and you weren’t stupid enough to think either of them were good.

But still, you stayed.

And still, they let you.

Maybe because it was entertaining, at first. A fun distraction, an arrangement. But now?

Now, it was just how things were.

And neither of them had any plans to leave.

Niragi noticed it first, in the way he looked forward to your attention. In the way he waited for it, craved it. That wasn’t normal. He didn’t fucking need people. He didn’t need comfort, he didn’t need warmth, he didn’t need anything but himself.

So why the fuck did it feel so good when you touched him? When you looked at him with something that wasn’t fear? When you smiled at him, when you cared?

He wasn’t stupid. He knew how people worked. He knew how to make them do what he wanted.

But you? You weren’t afraid of him. And you weren’t weak, either.

So why were you still here? Why weren’t you running? And why, why the fuck did it make his chest feel tight just thinking about it?

For Chishiya, it was subtler. He hadn’t expected to notice you this much.

He noticed everything, of course. It was just who he was. People were predictable, easy to figure out, easy to manipulate.

But you? You weren’t predictable. Or rather, you were, but not in the way he was used to. He could track the way you thought, the way your mind worked, the way you looked at people and picked them apart just like he did.

But you weren’t calculating. You weren’t doing it to get ahead, you weren’t doing it to gain control. You just… wanted to understand.

And for some reason, you wanted to understand him, too.

He wasn’t used to that.

He wasn’t used to being seen.

And worse? He wasn’t sure he minded it.

Niragi scoffed, leaning back against the couch. “Bet your mom regrets not swallowing you.”

Chishiya barely glanced at him. “Bet yours regrets not throwing herself down the stairs.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh. “You should’ve let those bullets do their job.”

Chishiya smirked. “You should let a rope and a hook do theirs.”

Niragi’s grin widened. “You should let me break your fucking nose.”

Chishiya shrugged. “You should let me neuter you.”

Niragi sneered, baring his teeth. “Try it and I’ll make you eat your own fingers.”

Chishiya, deadpan: “I’d still have more than you.”

Silence.

Niragi clenched his jaw, inhaled through his nose, and muttered “Fucking hate you.”

Chishiya exhaled, relaxing against the couch. “Mutual.”

The morning light barely filtered through the grimy windows, casting a dull glow over the living room as you padded in, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint rustling of something in the kitchen. You yawned, stretching your arms overhead before making your way toward the sound, the pain in your side harmless now.

Chishiya was already there, standing at the counter with an opened bottle of water in hand, taking small, slow sips. He looked as indifferent as ever, his half-lidded gaze shifting toward you for only a second before returning to whatever he was thinking about.

You smiled immediately. “Good morning.”

He barely acknowledged it with a quiet hum, which, at this point, you took as a victory.

You pulled open a cabinet, looking over what little remained of the supplies you hadn’t restocked yet. “You wake up early.”

“I never really sleep.” His tone was flat, disinterested, like he had already checked out of this conversation before it began.

You didn’t let that stop you. “Well, that’s not healthy.”

He gave you a look, like seriously? Then, he tipped the bottle back, taking another sip.

Undeterred, you continued. “Do you want breakfast? I can make something real quick.”

“I don’t really eat this early.”

“Oh, right. You’re just so mysterious and above mortal needs.” you teased, reaching for a box of something anyway. “Well, I do. So if you change your mind, just say the word.”

No response.

You moved around the kitchen as you talked, pulling things together in that little effortless way you did, completely comfortable in your role as the one who took care of things. “Is Niragi still sleeping?”

Chishiya shrugged, setting the bottle down on the counter. “Either that or he’s doing something disgusting.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Yeah, I don’t want to think about that.”

Another small silence. You cracked a few eggs, humming absently to yourself. The domesticity of it was so… strange. The world had gone to hell, and here you were, making breakfast in a dimly lit kitchen, talking to a man who’d probably let someone bleed out just to see how long it took.

But fuck him if he didn’t like your company.

Chishiya found himself listening more than he intended. Your voice was light and pretty, your words coming easily, always filling the empty space without suffocating it. Most people talked to be heard. You talked because you liked sharing—small things, little nothings, just the casual, easy flow of conversation.

And what was worse? He found himself engaging. Not much, not in the way you probably wanted, but just enough. He was aware of it. The way he would answer your questions in short responses instead of ignoring them altogether. The way he kept standing there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, letting you talk at him instead of walking away like he normally would.

He didn’t understand it.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t hate it, though.

You slid a plate onto the counter, something quick and simple, a little warm meal for yourself. “You sure you don’t want any?”

Chishiya exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t change my mind that fast.”

“I don’t know, you do seem like a wildcard sometimes.” You smiled playfully before taking a bite.

He said nothing. Just watched you, observed, took in the way you moved, the way you carried yourself. You weren’t naive. You knew exactly who he was—what he was. And yet, here you were, talking to him like he was just a guy in your kitchen, like the world wasn’t falling apart, like you hadn’t dragged him out of a bloodied alleyway just days ago.

It was interesting.

Maybe even entertaining.

But most of all, it was dangerous.

And yet, he was still here.

Soon, Niragi walked in, barefoot, shirtless, stretching his arms over his head as he let out a dramatic yawn. His hair was a mess, sticking up in the back, and his eyes were filled irritation, like a wild animal that had just been rudely woken from hibernation.

“What the fuck are you two so loud for?” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. He scratched at his stomach, looking between you and Chishiya. “Some of us actually sleep, you know.”

Immediately, you looked at him with soft concern, already feeling bad. “Oh, sorry, Niragi. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

Chishiya, on the other hand, didn’t even acknowledge him. He just kept standing there, arms crossed, like Niragi was nothing more than an unfortunate background noise.

That only pissed Niragi off more. “Of course you don’t give a shit.” he sneered, stepping further into the kitchen. “Cold little bastard. Probably doesn’t even blink when people die in front of him.”

Chishiya took another sip of water, completely unbothered. “You didn’t die, though. Shame.”

You sighed. Loudly. “Okay, can we not start this early? It’s too soon for this.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, then sniffed the air. “What’s for breakfast?”

You instantly brightened. “I can make you something!” You pushed your chair back, standing up quickly, already moving toward the stove without a second thought. No hesitation. No thinking about it. You just moved. Like it was your job. Like it was instinctual.

Niragi sat himself at the counter, propping his elbow up as he leaned into his hand. “Damn. You’re really trying to be a housewife, huh?”

You just smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “No. I just don’t mind taking care of you guys.”

Chishiya, from his spot against the counter, noticed. Not your words. Not Niragi.

But your plate.

Sitting there.

Untouched.

Still warm, barely eaten from, abandoned the moment Niragi wanted something.

His eyes flickered to you, watching as you moved around the kitchen, busying yourself with grabbing things, fully forgetting the meal you made for yourself just minutes ago.

You probably didn’t even realize it.

But he did.

And yet, as much as he wanted to test something—push a button, say something cold, make you sit back down and finish it—he didn’t.

Because this was the way things worked with you. You gave, and they took.

That’s just how it was.

You worked in the kitchen, your hands moved, pulling out ingredients, heating the pan, pouring oil like you’d done this a million times. You weren’t thinking about it, it was just muscle memory. Too busy with it to even check out Niragi shirtless, which really was a waste, but you really weren’t about that. You just wanted him to feel good.

Niragi, from his spot at the counter, had his chin propped up on his hand, watching you.

“You don’t have to cook for us every day, you know.” he said, voice still raspy from sleep. “We’re not helpless.”

You hummed. “I know. I just like doing it.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I bet. Makes you feel all useful, huh?”

You gave him a look over your shoulder, but there was no real bite to it. “No. It makes me feel like I’m taking care of people who deserve it.”

His eyebrows raised, like he was genuinely surprised by that response. “Hah. That’s a new one.”

“You act like you don’t deserve nice things, Niragi.”

He laughed at that. Like it was the funniest thing in the world. “I don’t.”

You frowned slightly, turning back to the stove. “That’s not true.”

He leaned forward, his elbow on the counter, fingers drumming against the surface. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Maybe not everything.” you admitted, cracking an egg into the pan. “But I know you’re more than just what you put out.”

He tilted his head. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You smiled, soft. “Someone worth making breakfast for.”

His face faltered. Just for a second. Then, his expression shifted again, twisting back into something cocky and shameless, covering up whatever that moment was. “Damn, babe. You trying to make me fall for you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Eat your food first, then we’ll talk.”

Chishiya, from the corner of the kitchen, watched. Silent, arms crossed, always watching.

He saw the way you moved, the way you gave so easily, the way you never hesitated to take care of them.

He also saw how easily Niragi ate it up, pulling you in, testing your limits, taking as much as you let him.

It wasn’t surprising. Niragi was an animal. No self-control, no hesitation, no filter. He took whatever he wanted, because he could.

And you? You let him. Not out of naivety. Not out of stupidity.

Out of choice.

And that’s what bothered him.

Because why?

Why them?

Why him?

The whole thing made his brain itch.

Still, he didn’t say anything. Not yet. He just waited as you finished up, plating the food, turning back to them with that same warm smile as you walked over.

“Here you go.” you said, placing their plates down. Both of their plates, even while Chishiya didn’t ask for it.

Niragi snatched his up immediately, already digging in, while Chishiya just… looked at his. Not moving.

You sighed. “Chishiya.”

He raised a brow.

“You have to eat.” you insisted, placing a hand on your hip. “It’s not healthy to keep skipping meals.”

He didn’t argue. Just stared at you for a long moment, calculating something in his mind. Then—without breaking eye contact—he nodded his chin toward the counter behind you.

“Eat that.”

Your brows furrowed. “…What?”

He gestured lazily with his fork. “Your plate.”

Oh.

Right.

The one you abaandoned.

Your mouth opened slightly, caught off guard. That was… nice of him?

Niragi, with a mouth full of food, glanced up between you two, scoffing. “What, you two having a moment?”

You quickly shook your head, moving to grab your plate, finally sitting back down. “I was gonna eat anyway.” you mumbled.

Chishiya said nothing.

He just started eating.

And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just making sure you did the same.

You stood in the middle of the living room, holding a small wooden decoration in your hands, tilting your head as you decided where to place it. Chishiya sat on the couch, watching you, his arms draped lazily over the back of the couch.

“This one or that one?” You held up the small decoration, gesturing between two shelves on the wall. “I can’t decide.”

Chishiya barely glanced at them. “That one.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“I don’t care.”

You rolled your eyes but placed it on the shelf he pointed at anyway. Then, as you moved to adjust another item—a small framed picture of some landscape you had picked up—Chishiya spoke again.

“Why are you doing this?”

You glanced at him, setting the frame down. “Doing what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely to the room, to the little trinkets and decorations you had been setting up all morning. “Making the place look nice.”

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “Because I live here?”

Chishiya hummed. “And you think it’s worth putting effort into?”

“Of course.” You turned to face him fully, placing your hands on your hips. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He raised a brow. “Because it’s temporary.”

You frowned. “Everything is temporary.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You’re too sentimental.”

You huffed, turning back to the shelf. “And you’re too cynical.”(AN: took me so much time to find the perfect word for this omg)

Before he could respond, Niragi walked into the room, stretching his arms over his head, cracking his neck like he had just rolled out of bed, he probably did though. He was in a sleeveless top of yours(he stole it without a word but you didn’t question it), his piercings catching the dim light.

He stopped when he saw what you were doing.

“The fuck is all this?” he asked, brows pulling together as he scanned the shelves.

“Decorating.” you answered simply, not turning away from your work.

Niragi let out a short laugh, stepping closer. “Why?”

“You and Chishiya are like the same person, I swear.” You sighed, stepping back to look at the placement of your decorations. “Because I want to.”

Niragi raised a brow. “You’re seriously wasting time putting up… what is this? A ceramic cat?” He picked up a small figurine from the shelf, holding it up with a smirk.

You snatched it from his hand. “Yes, and it’s adorable.”

He scoffed, watching you. “You’re really making this place all cute, huh?”

“Yes.” You turned to him, tilting your head. “And you’re gonna help me.”

His smirk faltered. “The fuck I am.”

You smiled sweetly, grabbing something off the nearby table—a slightly larger decoration, a framed map you had found—holding it up to him. “You’re tall. You can put this one up for me.”

He snorted. “You got arms, baby.”

“But I don’t have the height.” You stepped closer, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Come on, just this one?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You think if you blink at me like that I’ll just do what you say?”

“Yes.”

He opened his mouth to argue—then shut it again. Because yeah. That was exactly what was happening.

With an exaggerated groan, he snatched the frame from your hands. “You’re a pain in the ass.” He muttered some more things under his breath as he lifted his arms, easily reaching the spot you had pointed at.

You turned to Chishiya, grinning. “See? Teamwork.”

Chishiya just watched with the driest expression possible. “You’re making him your personal servant.”

“Yep.” you agreed happily.

Niragi scoffed. “Shut up, cat.”

Chishiya’s lips twitched slightly, amused at how quickly Niragi took the bait.

When Niragi finished securing the frame, he stepped back, nodding. “There. Happy now?”

You beamed up at him. “Very.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t actually seem annoyed.

And just like that, you went back to arranging things, while Niragi stood there, hands on his hips, watching you work.

Chishiya didn’t move from the couch. He just observed, taking in the way Niragi had given in so easily.

This was dangerous.

Not the decorations. Not the routine.

You.

Because they weren’t supposed to care about things like this.

You turned back to Niragi, scanning the room with an exaggerated hmm before picking up another small decoration—asimple, metallic wall hook.

“Okay, one more.” you said, holding it up to him with a charming smile.

Niragi sighed dramatically. “You’re killin’ me, angel.”

“You’ll survive.”

He grabbed it from you, grumbling something under his breath as he walked over to where you gestured. He acted like he was annoyed, like he had been forced into this, but his hands were steady, and he didn’t hesitate when he secured it in place.

“There. Done.”

You examined his work, nodding approvingly. “Perfect. You did good.”

Just as you turned to pick something else up, Niragi groaned.

“You’re not gonna keep givin’ me shit, are you?”

You immediately held up another small frame. “Just one more.”

“Bullshit.” He snatched it anyway.

You pointed to a spot on the wall. “There.”

Instead of following your direction, Niragi put it in a different spot, slightly off-center from the others.

You blinked.

Stared at it.

Then slowly turned your head to glare at him.

Niragi just grinned at you, tilting his head before sticking his tongue out—teasing you like a brat who knew exactly what he was doing.

But you weren’t paying attention to his smug little attitude.

Oh.

Your gaze locked onto the small silver ball on his tongue, catching the light as he flicked it at you.

A piercing.

Huh. You never really looked at it before.

But now, standing this close, you were fascinated.

Before you even thought about it, before you even realized what you were doing…

You reached out and grabbed his tongue.

Just.

Straight-up pinched it between your fingers.

Niragi froze.

Chishiya—who had been silently watching this entire interaction—blinked, sitting up slightly, eyes narrowing.

You tilted your head, shamelessly examining the piercing, your fingers holding his tongue carefully as you looked at the small metal ball.

It was cute.

His tongue was warm, soft, slick under your fingertips, and for some reason, you felt zero hesitation about doing this.

Niragi made a choked sound, his eyes wide with disbelief, like his brain couldn’t process what was happening.

“Hell?” he mumbled, voice muffled, ‘the’ left out only because he couldn’t pronounce it like this.

“Did it hurt?” you asked casually, still inspecting it, genuinely curious.

Niragi stared at you like you had lost your fucking mind. “You’re insane.” he finally said, though he didn’t pull away.

You let go of his tongue, stepping back with a bright smile. “I just never saw one up close before.”

Niragi ran his tongue over his lip, blinking at you, still looking a little caught off guard. “You’re seriously messed up, you know that?”

You just laughed. “Says you.”

Chishiya watched. Observed the way Niragi—someone who had no problem pulling a trigger, someone who could kill without blinking—had been completely thrown off by your actions.

And he hated it.

Because you were sweet.

Too sweet for your own good.

And it was messing with them.

Niragi kept looking at you. Staring, even. But you? You just turned away, completely unbothered, looking through the remaining decorations on the table.

“Still gonna make me put shit up?” Niragi finally said, voice a little rough, still running his tongue over his lip like he was checking to make sure it was still there.

“Yup!” you answered cheerfully, picking up another small piece, then turning to Chishiya. “Unless you wanna help?”

Chishiya gave you a look. “Mm. No.”

“Didn’t think so.” you muttered.

Niragi grinned at that. “The little rat won’t help you with shit.” he said, crossing his arms.

Chishiya simply shrugged. “Why would I? You’re already doing it.”

“Tch.” Niragi scoffed, looking back at you. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

You giggled.

Niragi’s expression flickered for a second—just a second—before he turned back to the wall, reaching for the next thing you handed him.

You continued talking as he worked, making little comments about how the place was finally feeling like a home. Your home.

“You’re really settling in, huh?” Niragi said, his tone unreadable. New.

You hummed, looking around the room. “Well… yeah. I mean, where else would I go?”

Silence.

That was a question neither of them had an answer to.

There was nowhere else. No outside world waiting for you. No normal life to go back to, at least you didn’t know about that.

This was it. This was what was left.

And for some reason—some completely insane reason—these two absolute psychopaths had stuck around.

Or rather—you had made them stay.

The realization lingered in the air.

Niragi didn’t comment on it.

Chishiya didn’t need to.

Instead, you went back to chatting.

Lighthearted, soft, sweet.

Because what else could you do?

Eventually, Niragi finished putting everything up and flopped onto the couch, stretching his arms over the backrest.

“Done.” he announced, grinning at you. “I better be getting paid for this shit.”

You smiled, hands on your hips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Niragi raised an eyebrow, clearly about to say something filthy. Chishiya, without even looking up from where he sat, cut in first.“Not with that attitude, you won’t.”

Niragi snapped his head towards him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Chishiya smirked.

Oh, here we go.

You just sighed as they started up again, Niragi already leaning forward like he was ready to fight, Chishiya barely lifting his gaze, looking bored.

It was the same old bullshit.

And honestly?

You didn’t mind.

Because at the end of the day, you were still here, and so were they.

You were being careful.

You had to be.

Niragi was not subtle when he told you that the next time you had to play, he was coming with you. No arguments. No protests. No way in hell he’d let you go alone.

And that was sweet, really.

In the most Niragi way possible.

But the thought of him stepping into a game after everything? The fact that he was still healing, still limping a little even though he’d act like he wasn’t—like it didn’t fucking hurt—made your stomach twist.

So, yeah. You were sneaking out.

It wasn’t like Chishiya would care, anyway. If anything, he’d probably just say something about how he already knew.

But Niragi?

Oh, Niragi would be fucking pissed.

Which was exactly why you had to time it right.

You had been watching. Waiting. Making sure the two of them weren’t around.

And now? Now was your chance.

The apartment was quiet.

Chishiya wasn’t on the couch. Niragi was nowhere to be seen. They were either in their rooms or just not here at all.

Good.

Carefully, you grabbed your things. A bag, a jacket, anything else you might need. You wouldn’t be able to bring much—you needed to move fast.

A deep breath. A glance toward the hallway, toward the door.

Still quiet.

Okay.

You could do this.

You knew the floorboards well enough by now. Which ones creaked, which ones didn’t. You made sure to step lightly, quickly, keeping your breath even.

Closer. Closer.

The door was right there.

You reached for the handle, twisting it so, so carefully. It didn’t make a sound.

Perfect.

And then, just like that—you were outside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and your shoulders relaxed.

You did it.

Niragi was still inside, completely unaware.

You’d be back before he even realized.

Or at least… you hoped.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess

(Side note: I’m actually kinda anxious and don’t always know how to answer to nice comments, but I see them all and I’m SO grateful!! Even if I don’t reply to some, thank you. I wish Tumblr had a Like option on comments so y’all would know that I see you and thank you😭😭 also tell me if I forgot to tag u, it wasn’t on purpose if that happened<3)

#alice in borderland #aib chishiya #aib niragi #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi alice in borderland

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7-deadly-cats · 28 days ago

Text

killing me softly (part five)

genre: slow burn fic, fluff with hints of angst, light drama, no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, suggestive language, overthinking, light tension, kelce being kelce

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron's intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and y/n's mind? that shit was even more tangled. but she hadn't spent seven years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through her fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: starting the day with the struggle to focus after texting rafe the night before, he unexpectedly asks you to sit with him in the back row of economics class. having forgotten his pizza date with his friends, he invites you to join them to work on your project at kelce’s instead of staying in school. despite your hesitation, you agree. feeling out of place as you sit in his car on the way to kelce’s, rafe makes a seemingly casual attempt to ease your nerves along the way.

word count: 4.5k+

a/n: thank you guys sm for the kind words and support on the last one, this always means sm to me <3 i also had sm fun with this one and felt like it’s time for the first little drama highigi. also next part will include a little rafe pov 😈 anyway, hope you enjoy <3

"Yo, what took you so long? Did you two have a quickie in the car or something?" That was the first thing Kelce Statter said as he opened the front door, glancing between you and Rafe with an amused grin, his pupils just a little too wide.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

And here we go.

Like clockwork, heat shot straight to your cheeks, and as usual, whenever you were overwhelmed and didn’t know how to react, that tense, awkward smile appeared on your face.

Not even a minute here, and one dumb comment had already thrown you off balance. This was off to a fantastic start.

Rafe let out an annoyed snort. "Kelce, shut the fuck up."

"Whoa, dude, no need to get your claws out." Kelce raised his hands in mock innocence, tilting his head with a smug smirk. His gaze landed on you—your awkward smile and deep red face more specifically—before flicking back to Rafe. "Aww, you got her all shy and flustered. You must’ve been good."

Okay, that’s it. THIS was officially the most awkward moment of your life, and the worst part? You were too stunned to speak.

Rafe ran a hand down his face, clearly over Kelce’s shit, before shooting him a sharp glare. "Jesus Christ, dude, do me a favor and, just once in your fucking life, pull your head out of your ugly ass."

Wow. What subtlety. You honestly couldn’t tell if Rafe liked or despised him. Probably something in between both.

Before Kelce—still stupidly grinning—could fire back, Rafe stepped into the doorway and shoved him (softly?) aside. "Now move, before I deck you."

"Love you too, bro," Kelce said, throwing a wink in your direction, before disappearing down the hallway.

Well, what an interesting dynamic.

Rafe turned back to you with an exasperated sigh. "I swear I’m gonna kill that idiot one day."

Now would be a good time to SAY SOMETHING.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you smiled awkwardly, blurting out dryly, "He seems… nice."

NICE? Of all the words you could’ve chosen, 'nice' had to be at the very bottom of the list to describe Kelce Statter.

Rafe let out a short, amused breath. "Sure, he’s a sweetheart." He motioned toward the inside of the house with a nod. "C’mon, or we’ll end up with nothing but crust. His appetite’s as big as his mouth."

So you followed him inside like a stupid little duckling.

In the living room, a massive flat tree-stump-and-glass coffee table was already “set”—if you could even call it that. A big, colorful pizza sat on a wooden board in the center, surrounded by a chaotic mess of four plates, a few glasses, cigarette packs, a lighter, car keys, a can of deodorant, an almost empty roll of paper towels, as well as a bag of weed and a used grinder.

In your mind, you titled this condition Kelce Statter core.

A forest-green semicircle couch wrapped around half the table, facing a gigantic flat-screen TV. Family Guy was playing on the screen, the volume low but audible.

Kelce was perched at one end of the couch, hunched forward as he shoved a slice of pepperoni pizza into his mouth. Topper sat somewhere in the middle, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw the two of you—or more specifically, Rafe.

With a casual “Yo, bro,” Topper got up and dapped Rafe up. He shot you a neutral smile, his voice carrying a friendly vibe. “We’re all apologizing in advance for Kelce’s shitty jokes.”

Now that was what you’d call nice.

From the background came a muffled, “Hey!”

A genuine smile tugged at your lips but before you could respond, Rafe made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Okay, okay, let’s just eat. The idiot’s already inhaled half the pizza.”

Topper sat back down next to Kelce while you settled on Rafe’s right—at a comfortably safe distance—at the opposite end of the couch. Still, your heart and mind refused to slow down.

But as your stomach filled, a bit of the tension in your body started to ease. Surprisingly, the pizza tasted amazing—like, really really good.

Was Kelce secretly some kind of passionate hobby chef? Probably. Would make sense, considering he was on his healthy gym grind like Rafe had told you.

As the minutes passed, the guys were deep in their own conversation—which you were thankful for because eating, talking, and not embarrassing yourself was an art you had yet to master.

Kelce was raving about some new protein/creatine/whatever powder he swore by, Topper was hyping up an upcoming surf competition he was planning to enter, and Rafe had some big news about a deal his dad had recently landed.

The only thing remotely interesting to you as a surfer was the tournament Topper had mentioned. The rest you tuned out, peacefully eating your pizza, taking an occasional sip of your Coke, and half-watching some weird Brian-and-Stewie subplot on TV.

This actually almost felt like hanging out with friends.

At some point, Topper mentioned your name, and you snapped out of your little bubble, turning away from the screen in surprise.

Shit, what did he say?

You swallowed the bite of pizza in your mouth and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what?”

Kelce jumped in before Topper could repeat himself, seemingly taking your disinterest in the conversation as a win. “Oh shit, you’re into Family Guy?”

Your thumb nervously traced a spot on the edge of your plate. “Yeah, I mean, it's a good show to watch on the side.”

“And South Park, Rick and Morty?”

You felt all three of them staring at you. “They’re good, I guess. I mean, South Park isn’t really my thing but—”

Kelce gasped like you’d just insulted his entire family. “Not your thing?! That’s—”

“Jesus, bro, let her at least finish,” Topper interrupted with a roll of his eyes because well Kelce had just interrupted him.

Rafe nodded in agreement, waving his hand toward the kitchen. “Seriously, go grab more paper towels or some shit.”

Kelce shook his head, clearly unimpressed, but stood up anyway, plate in hand. “Wow, you guys are actual mean girls.”

You smiled because the other two did, but somehow, you still felt a little bad for Kelce. Sure, he was annoying, loud, and way too blunt, but getting shut down by your friends every two minutes had to sting, right?

Wow. Am I seriously feeling sorry for Kelce Statter?

Topper shook his head as Kelce disappeared into the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder how he manages to pull any girl at all.”

Rafe shrugged, wiping his hands on the last paper towel. “Maybe they’re just hoping his dick’s as big as his mouth.”

That got a laugh out of Topper—one that, in your opinion, was a little too enthusiastic. “Yeah, probably.”

Okayyy. If you were Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1, then Topper was definitely No. 2.

Rafe seemed to notice your lack of reaction, turning to you with a crooked smile, like he couldn’t quite comprehend why you didn’t find this hilarious. “What? Would you go for a guy like that?”

WHAT KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT? Better yet, how were you supposed to answer?!

On one hand, you’d never in a million years go for Kelce Statter. On the other, it felt wrong to sit in his house and join in on roasting him.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you gave an awkward smile. “No, I mean… I barely know him.”

God, what a stupid answer.

“That wasn’t a real no,” Topper remarked with a smirk, and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

Rafe’s brows twitched just slightly but before he could throw another dumb question your way, you tried to salvage it. “I mean, I just… I wouldn’t want to judge someone based on their looks or, uh, any shallow first impressions.”

Great. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Rafe and Topper stared at you like you’d just announced that you believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

OH GOD, they probably thought you liked Kelce now. Worse, RAFE probably did.

AHHH, HELP.

“Okay, you better not tell him that,” Topper said, amused. “His giant ego will rub it in your face forever. Or worse, he’ll actually think he has a shot with you.”

...

You weren’t sure what was worse—how aware you were of your burning cheeks, Rafe’s unreadable look that could mean anything from irritation to amusement to indifference, or the fact that Topper had basically just said you were too good for Kelce. Which was probably supposed to be a compliment, but the way he’d said it with that weird teasing undertone … yeah, no thanks.

Rafe leaned forward with a defiant-yet-amused snort, cutting off your view of Topper, and gathered the last three plates. “Shit, that’s enough talk about Kelce,” he said, shoving the stack of plates into Topper’s hands.

For a moment, Topper just stared at him, then he stood up, casting a brief glance at you before looking back at Rafe. “Sure, yeah, guess we’ll head out to the porch then. Have fun with your… art project work session or whatever.”

And with that, he disappeared in the same direction as Kelce.

Now it was just you and Rafe again. But for some reason, alongside your nervousness, there was this inexplicable tension lingering in the air from the conversation earlier.

This whole thing was SO FUCKING WEIRD anyway.

Yesterday morning, Kelce, Topper, and Rafe had been… well, strangers to you. And now? Now you were sitting in Kelce Statter’s living room, having had lunch with the three of them, and now you were spending your FREE TIME—like, not during class, not during lunch, but your actual free time—working on a school project with Rafe.

This whole cozy setup, this couch, the TV running in the background, the whole environment—it all felt so… intimate. Even though it absolutely wasn’t.

And then all those comments, those questions… This was so far out of your comfort zone, and you had no idea how to deal with such a sudden shift.

And, honestly? You were still stuck on why Rafe had even invited you here in the first place. Yeah, sure, to work on a school project. But at his friend’s house? When you could’ve just done it during lunch. It didn’t make any sense.

And the dangerous part? Somewhere deep down, there was this tiny part of you that thought maybe, just maybe, Rafe wasn’t just after a good grade.

The fact that Rafe didn’t shift over, even though the couch was now completely clear (sure, there was still a decent gap between you two, but still...), didn’t go unnoticed. Quite the opposite, he spread out his legs slightly more, adjusting his position.

You had to seriously focus to avoid accidentally looking at... certain areas.

GIRL PLS.

“Don't tell me you're still nervous after having experienced these idiots firsthand” he said, his tone playful but noticeably more detached than usual.

Could I get one moment—just ONE—in which my face isn’t on fire? PLEASE.

You forced a clumsy smile. “I wasn’t nervous... just curious.”

Oh, yeah. He’s totally going to believe that.

Rafe raised an unimpressed brow, his smirk making it clear he didn’t buy it. “Yeah, anxious curious.” He sank deeper into the couch, putting one leg on the edge of the table, and looked up at you with his pretty blue eyes. “So, you have a thing for Kelce, huh? Is that why you acted so weird when I asked you to come along?” His voice was teasing, almost challenging, but there was something distant in it too, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?? Like, LITERALLY WHAT?? What kind of question was that?

You honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious. His expression gave absolutely nothing away. Also didn’t he just say to Topper to put the Kelce topic aside?

You shook your head, brows furrowing in irritation (and let’s be real, you probably looked like a sulky tomato while doing so). “What? No! I mean… what? Where is that even coming from?”

Rafe shrugged, his tone maddeningly casual. “He wouldn’t say no, just saying. Kelce would take any gi—”

“But I would!” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “Saying ‘no’, I mean.” You froze for a second, your brows furrowing further as if you’d just misheard yourself. “Wait, what were you gonna say?”

There it was again. That shift in his mood. Barely noticeable but it was there—the way his brows raised just slightly, his eyes focusing on you like he was daring you in some strange way.

“What?” he asked, clearly testing to see if you’d let it slide or push further.

And, of fucking course, you’d push further. Crush or not, no way would you let that audacity slide.

You tilted your head, and honestly, maybe it was the stress of the day catching up to you, but the way he looked so smug, so goddamn full of himself, pissed you off. "You were trying to say that Kelce would go for any girl anyway." You furrowed your brows. "What… how am I supposed to interpret that?"

You couldn’t help but remember the comment he’d made earlier at school—Kelce always brings some random chick to our hangouts.

So, was that how he saw you? Some random, disposable girl for his friend? Was that the point of this? To hook you up with Kelce?

You had no idea why but before this, thinking of hookups in general had been mildly amusing to you. But now that it was somehow in the air, it just pissed you off.

Something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, but he shook his head, his mouth tugging down in mock innocence. “Don’t know.” And then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added, “You didn’t say ‘no’ earlier. You know, all that talk about 'not judging people by surface-level impressions' or whatever.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What the fuck, I never—... I'm not interested in--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence when you noticed how observant he was eyeing you.

Either he was messing with you—trying to get a reaction out of you by asking these upfront questions—or he was actually being serious.

“This feels like gaslighting", you said dryly, though you couldn’t stop the somehow amused smile from creeping onto your face.

A crooked grin spread across Rafe’s features and the crease between his brows disappeared. “I'm just repeating what you’ve said.”

Seriously, what did he want you to say? “Yes, I like Kelce”??? Did he actually believe your words earlier had hinted at some interest in Kelce? Just the thought of it made your skin crawl.

Your expression shifted back to a frown. Hesitantly you asked, “Is this like... a bro-playing-matchmaker-for-bro thing?”

Did he want you to start something with Kelce? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions—this whole thing with Topper earlier, too. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Kelce secretly had a thing for you and they were both playing his wingmen in a very strange way.

OH. MY. GOD.

That would explain why Rafe had invited you here in the first place. But then again, why were you—just the two of you—about to work on the project?

Even your confusion was confused at this point.

“Shit, no,” Rafe shot back with an amused smirk, crossing his arms. “Like I’d play wingman for Kelce.” He shrugged, his grin lingering. “But you do seem like someone who needs help in this area.”

…

WHAT.

Did he think you were some kind of helpless maiden who needed assistance at courting the other sex? Well, it wasn’t that far from the truth, be for real, but that wasn’t the point. Why would he even say something like this? Was he suggesting to be your wingman or some shit?

God, this was such a painfully awkward situation and he seemed to have fun cornering you like this.

Screw it. You were done with whatever this was.

You nodded slowly, your cheeks still flushed deep pink. “I don’t, thanks. And I feel like we shouldn’t waste any more time and get back to the project.”

Something strange flashed across his face—a mix of disappointment and irritation as if he had enjoyed this back and forth—but he just shrugged. “Back at being a nerd.”

Wow. Okay. Seriously, what the actual fuck was going on inside Rafe Cameron’s head?

Trying to suppress a frown, you leaned toward the side of the couch and pulled your iPad from your bag, tucking your legs up into a comfortable position as you opened yesterday’s notes.

The air felt heavy with a strange tension. Not like yesterday, when you’d had your first real conversation with him. Not like earlier either, when he was pissed off at you mentioning his dad in a conversation. No, this was something else entirely—some kind of irritated restlessness on both sides.

Your heart pounded uneasily in your chest, and you hated that you couldn’t just address whatever this was. If it even was anything.

So, you did what you always did when things started feeling like too much—you disconnected from the situation entirely and focused on the task at hand. Skimming over your notes, you cleared your throat and read out your last update. “Okay, so…” -----------------------------------------------

You washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

What am I even doing here?

This was so stupid. You should’ve insisted on rescheduling this whole thing—it would’ve been so much easier.

Grabbing the towel from the rack, you dried your hands and took a deep breath. Screw whatever all of this was—why he’d invited you here, why he’d asked all those weird-ass questions. You just needed to focus on the project.

Art was the only subject you were actually kind of good at and there was no way you were going to mess it up just because your brain was spiraling over this surreal, out-of-nowhere situation.

But as you walked back down the hallway toward the living room, you were hit with another curveball.

Is this guy SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

There he was, sitting on the couch, your iPad resting on his lap, your Apple Pencil in his hand as his eyes stared at the screen.

Never mind that he looked CUTE AS HELL doing it—he couldn’t just scroll through your sketches like that. THAT WAS AN UNSPOKEN RULE. What if he found your studies of—NOPE.

“What are you doing?”

Rafe looked up, completely unbothered. Before he could even answer, you were already sitting down next to him, hand reaching for your iPad.

And then you saw it.

He wasn’t flipping through your gallery—he was just writing something in the Notes app.

Your face instantly flushed hot. “Oh,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back quickly—only to accidentally brush against the fabric of his jeans.

AKA HIS THIGH.

It was over. Your life was over. Done. Finished. The end. You were officially dead in every language known to man.

The heat in your face burned hotter as your pulse skyrocketed, embarrassment filling every cell in your body.

And his face? Big blue eyes staring at you half-surprised while his lips slowly turned into a crooked smile.

UGHHHH, OH MY GOD.

A sheepish-awkward smile crept across your lips. “Oh, I—oh my God, I’m so sorry, I… I thought you were scrolling through my gallery.”

Brilliant. Truly a top-tier diversion. AS ALWAYS.

Please, please, please, for the love of everything holy, don’t mention the fact that I just touched your leg. PLEASE.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, more amused than irritated. “Why, what would I find? Nudes?”

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.

“What? No! I don’t—gallery, I meant my art gallery!” you shot back quickly, your voice a pitch higher than usual as the heat rushed back into your face.

And then, as your gaze flicked to the striking details of his annoyingly pretty eyes, it hit you just how close you were to him.

Too fucking close.

Your overly dramatic attempt to snatch the iPad from him had somehow left your whole body turned toward his, with barely four inches separating you.

Every instinct screamed at you to throw yourself onto the other end of the couch, grab your bag, and leave this house as fast as humanly possible. Move toward another state and start a new life.

But you couldn’t move. It was like you were frozen, completely anchored in place. Because choosing to put space between you now? That would just highlight how ridiculously awkward this whole situation had become.

You felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, unable to move.

And Rafe’s eyes? They were the headlights. He stared at you, his expression teetering somewhere between playful curiosity and deliberation, like he was trying to decide whether to swerve or just run you over.

“Jesus Christ, calm down,” he finally said, a cocky laugh slipping past his lips as he clicked the Apple Pencil back into the iPad case. “I didn’t look at your top-secret drawing gallery. Happy?”

And even if he had looked, would he even admit it? Probably not.

Still, a tiny part of you relaxed. Perfect—now only 99% of you were stuck in full fight-or-flight mode.

“Thanks,” you managed to mumble, taking the iPad from him with painstaking care to avoid even accidentally brushing against him again. That would definitely be the end of you.

Finally seizing the opportunity, you scooted a little further away—not as far as before but just enough to calm your heart rate without making it seem like you were actively trying to escape.

The last thing you wanted was to look like a total creep.

Even though the situation had been painfully awkward, somehow, it had managed to break that weird, unspoken tension that had been hanging between you two entirely.

You had just looked up, ready to comment on the one (1) completely useless bullet point he’d added when he beat you to it. "We should go to my place tomorrow evening. Maybe you’ll relax a little for once”, he said with a teasing yet somehow serious undertone.

...

WAIT. WHAT? THIS WAS COMING OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE WHAT?!

You must’ve misheard him. No way. This was too crazy, too fucking surreal to be real. Surely he was messing with you. Yeah, that had to be it.

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Your place?" Good. That was good. This way, you could at least make sure he wasn’t being serious.

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Yeah, unless you’d rather go back to working at school like a real nerd."

HE WAS SERIOUS.

Okay, hold on. But WHY AT EVENING? Evenings were basically the second most intimate time of day, right after actual nighttime. And his whole family would be home—no, absolutely not. That was insane. Way too much, too soon.

There was no way you’d 'relax' there.

You let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze. "I don’t know… your parents—" You hesitated, remembering Rose wasn’t actually his mom. "I mean, your family probably wants their space."

Oh god. You could already feel the shift in his mood—subtle, but definitely there.

But Rafe just shook his head, completely unfazed. "My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie’s on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

OH.

That—that changed everything. Shit, no, that changed THE ENTIRE FUCKING SITUATION YOU WERE IN.

An empty house, almost nighttime, and he wanted you to come over just after two days of getting to know each other? Holy shit, every alarm bell in your head was ringing.

Sure, you were inexperienced when it came to dating (NOT that this situation was anything close to being labeled as dating). And yes, you had no clue how to flirt. Plus, the entire concept of the male species lowkey terrified you and you were terrible at picking up hints.

But even you knew what this meant.

You’d heard enough of Cara’s stories, read enough shitty fanfiction, watched enough trashy movies and TV shows, and—unintentionally—overheard enough (deeply uncomfortable) conversations between drunk, horny teenagers at parties to recognize exactly what was happening here:

Rafe Cameron was setting the ground for a hookup.

-----------------------------------------------

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six ->

-----------------------------------------------

Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @vvmaybank @ltristessedureratoujours @mia-iltc

253 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 1 year ago

Text

3. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The aftermath of that fateful night has lots of consequences. Not all of them are bad.

A/N: This is the final part! Based on this and this.

Word Count: 11.7k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, angst, mentions of divorce

The Unicorn Masterlist

You had to admit. The ensuite bathroom was really nice. But you couldn’t imagine enjoying the soaker tub with jets and soft fluffy towels as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You took off your little pearl choker as tears continued to fall down your cheeks and you removed your sweater and skirt. It all felt so pointless. You had wasted so much time fretting over your outfit and matching it to your pearl choker and your pretty panties all for everything to just blow up completely. Now your favorite pink pearl choker was tainted and you’d probably never want to wear it again.

You should have said no to the proposition. You knew you should have listened to your gut. It was going to blow up and someone was going to get hurt.

Your night shorts and matching top were soft on your skin but you hated it because you’d also chosen this set with the thought that both Kit and Harry might see it. But you’d be sure they never did.

Setting your alarm for 5:00 am you climbed into the luxurious bed and rolled to your side hoping you could get some sleep so you could turn your brain off as you replayed every moment in your head over and over again.

. . .

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Harry,” Kit insisted.

“She can’t hear us in here, love. Come on. Let’s work something out. Things didn’t go like we thought… right? We don’t need to do it again.”

“I just… I need some space, H. That was a lot. I guess I didn’t expect it to feel that way. I can’t talk about it right now, though. I need to sleep on it. Away from you. I know I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his wife’s hand, “I love you, Kitty. You know that right? I love you so much. You are the most important person to me in the world.”

Kit attempted a weak smile as she pulled her hand away and tucked herself into the blankets, “Can you turn the light off when you leave the room?”

. . .

Harry had been unable to sleep at all. The couch wasn’t a great spot to sleep but more than that, he was feeling guilty and trying to figure out how to fix the problem. He didn’t want you to feel bad, you hadn’t done anything wrong. But he did need to support his wife first and foremost. He’d need to insist she apologize and put it behind her but he didn’t want his wife to feel like he was taking your side either. Even though, in a way, he kind of was. You were the innocent party in all this. He’d gotten carried away. You both just clicked. The chemistry between you was impenetrable. So much so that he nearly forgot about his wife being there and said some things he didn’t really mean.

When he heard light footfalls coming down the stairs and then saw the outline of your frame as you rushed toward the door he shot up from the couch and hurried toward you, “Y/n?”

You closed your eyes and stopped in your tracks. You hoped he was asleep and that you could leave without him knowing.

He put his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you and spoke quietly, “Are you okay to drive?” He knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk you into staying. Though in his mind, the best-case scenario was that the three of you could sit and talk and move on from the disaster of what had happened the night before. Maybe over coffee and waffles. He knew that was unlikely but he had hoped.

“I’m fine now. I just want to get out of here. I feel awful,” you turned yourself to look up at him in the dark.

“You don’t need to feel bad, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I need you to understand that.”

“I just need to go. You’ve been so nice to me. Thank you, Harry. For everything. Tell Kit how awful I feel and that I’m so sorry and never meant to hurt her.”

Harry frowned, “Don’t worry. Kit will feel better when she wakes up. I’ll talk to her. But you don’t owe anyone an apology.”

He put his arms around you and held you against his chest in a sweet hug. You could feel the thud of his heart under his pecs and inhaled his scent. You’d miss him. You’d miss Kit too. You’d especially miss William and Warner.

. . .

When you didn’t show up on Monday morning at the Styles’ house both Kit and Harry knew what was going on.

Kit had planned on apologizing to you for her behavior in person. She’d even planned to go to work a bit late that morning so all three of you could try and work it out. She was still feeling a bit betrayed by Harry and having a hard time unseeing and hearing what she had, but she knew her conduct had been out of line. She was acting on pure emotion and the wine exasperated her reaction. But that was no excuse.

“I can work from home today,” Harry said.

Kit shook her head, “I feel awful. I hurt her feelings. I was such a bitch to her and she didn’t deserve it. Maybe I should text her. Or go to her apartment and apologize to her face-to-face? What do you think? The least I can do is apologize for how I treated her.”

Harry pursed his lips, “Let me text her. See if she’ll come over later when you get home. I’ll tell her we’d like to talk and that you want to apologize.”

Sighing, Kit closed her eyes, “Don’t text her. I will. This is something I need to fix.”

He decided he’d let his wife figure out how she needed to approach the issue but he was worried it was too late. He was worried he’d never see you again and that would be it. You were totally justified in ghosting them both. Plus the semester would be starting up again for you in a couple of weeks and the boys would be back in school during the day so it felt futile to beg for you to come back.

And that’s exactly what you thought too. You were about to head into the new fall semester to start on your master’s degree and the boys were going back to school. You had hoped you’d still be able to watch the twins when Harry and Kit wanted a weekend away or a night off for a few extra bucks during the school year but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to face either Kit or Harry again.

You were sure Kit hated you with every fiber of her being. Which kind of made you angry the more you sat with what had happened. As sad as you were and as bad as you felt, you knew Harry was right. Nothing that happened was actually your fault.

Distracting yourself from what had happened Saturday night had been difficult because it was all so fresh. You knew with some time you’d get over it and move on but you were sure there would be some damage there. Netflix, long walks, lots of sleep, and pints of ice cream seemed to help a little.

But still, the moment that you couldn’t erase from your memory was when you were on their bed as Harry had just finished himself on your back and Kit yelled at him to make you leave all while you were still naked and floaty. Humiliating. But more than that, you started to realize, that what Kit did was uncalled for and mean. She had been mean to you and that made you angry.

So you were surprised when you saw a text from her on Monday afternoon. With an apology.

I hope you’re doing okay. I just wanted to reach out and tell you how sorry I am for how I acted Saturday night. I had hoped to talk to you this morning about it so I could do this in person, and I would still like to apologize to you in person if you’d let me. I understand if you’re not comfortable with it but if you are, I’ll be at Davanti’s on Fresno Street at 3:30 pm. I’ll be alone and plan to stay for an hour.

It was 2 pm. You needed to decide if you wanted to hear her out or just move on. Could you look at her again? Would you simply break down and cry the moment you saw her? Maybe it would be better if you requested Harry to be there? Or perhaps you should just ignore her and be done with it.

But you figured opting for closure would be better in the end. For you and probably for Kit as well.

I’ll be there.

You found a spot to park on the street a few blocks away so you could get some fresh air and stretch your legs before going inside. And also just in case you suddenly decided you didn’t want to go through with it, you could turn around and leave without having Kit seeing you.

But you didn’t change your mind and when you walked into the restaurant you saw Kit sitting at a booth looking down at her phone with a glass of wine in front of her.

You slid in across from her and she startled slightly before placing her phone face down, “Y/n! You came. Thank you.” She smiled. She looked hopeful and sweet.

Nodding you smiled back, “Of course.”

Kit looked at your hands and then out into the restaurant before back to you, “Would you like anything to drink or eat? It’s on me if you want–“

“No. That’s fine. I’ll just have a water when the server comes by. Not really hungry.”

She sat for a moment and blinked her eyes as she looked at you softly, “I am so sorry, Y/n. I know me just saying that can’t erase what I did. I wasn’t prepared to see him like that with anyone and I took it out on you. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I acted.”

You nodded and looked down at the table. You figured she would eventually forgive herself. Because that’s why she was there wanting to apologize to you in person. She wanted to feel better about what had happened and this was her way of doing that. So, while she would forgive herself eventually, despite saying she wouldn’t, you would never forget what happened to you that night. How she treated you, demeaned you. How it made you feel disgusted with yourself and Harry and her all at once. The horror you felt when the worst possible outcome happened.

“Can you ever forgive me?” She finally said which made you look up at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I’m not really sure how I even feel right now about it. I still need time to negotiate all of this in my head first.”

Kit spread her fingers out on the table and looked down at her hand, “I understand that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” she sighed and looked back at you, “I wanted to try something new with Harry. I’ve been so… just trying to figure out how to make myself feel that thing I used to feel for him, ya know?” She laughed and shook her head, “He’s just so… male. I mean he’s sweet and gentle and attractive but in bed, he wants something I can’t give him, and vice versa. And now that the twins are older we get more privacy and can get back into being a little more explorative, and it’s made me really miss how things were when I was single and dating women. I know that sounds awful,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “But I’ve just been reaching for something that I’m never going to be able to have with Harry alone. But turns out,” she laughed, “funnily enough, that I don’t like him with anyone else or feeling that passion with someone else that I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel that with you. But that’s selfish of me. I’m all messed up right now,” she stitched her brows together and you could see how glassy her eyes were, “I’m sorry to dump that on you. That’s not fair to you.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what to say in response. She shouldn’t have told you any of that. That was true. And now you just felt bad for Harry that his wife was seeking something to fill in where she thought he lacked. But all you could think was that he was everything anyone would ever want and yet Kit didn’t even see that somehow.

“I wanted to also give you this. From the boys.” She handed you a small homemade booklet with drawings on it from both William and Warren. You flipped through the pages of marker and pen, drawings and stories written to go with each drawing.

You looked up at Kit with appreciation, “Thank you for this. Tell them I love it. I’ll read it every day.” You hadn’t wanted to cry. Hadn’t wanted to show Kit how sensitive and soft you were. She’d already watched you cry that night and now here you were with tears in your eyes again that you simply could not hold back.

“If you ever want to stop by and say hi to them you could. Or even just send me or Harry a text to tell them hi. They love you so much, Y/n. You’re so good with them. And I wanted to…” she paused as she looked at you with a sudden weight that hadn’t been there just before, “If anything ever, um…” she wavered her gaze from your face to the area behind your head and back, “Never mind. Just know how much both Harry and I trust you and would love for you to still come around to see them if you ever wanted.”

. . .

When you returned to university things started to feel better. You still got caught with feelings of dread and were reminded of the way you felt that night. Of course, Kit had apologized and that was really all you could ask for after it had all been said and done. But it didn’t stop you from zoning out in the shower with thoughts of putting your pink pearl choker on before you went to their home that night. The giddiness you felt beforehand that was torn away from you so viciously only hours later. Now you couldn’t even look at the necklace. It was tucked away in its soft velvet bag in your panties drawer.

And you couldn’t stop thinking of Harry either. You missed him a lot too. But that feeling was mixed with a confusing heartsickness. It wasn’t that you were in love with him or anything. But you had crushed on him for a while and got to experience him in bed and that was. You couldn’t describe it because you tried not to think about it too much. The more you dwelled on the way he handled you and looked at you, the way he spoke to you… it gave you shivers and the unfortunate thing was that you’d never have the pleasure to know that again.

But again, you weren’t in love or anything close to it. It was just a sense of loss more than anything.

After your first month back at school was down you were invited out to a local bar with some of your classmates and friends. Something fun for everyone to let loose a little. And god did you deserve to blow off a little steam.

You would have preferred a club with some awful dancing and too much liquor, to be honest, but darts in a dark bar with pitchers of beer and friends sounded quite nice too.

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The bartender asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then across the bar to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn so he can start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by, headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

“We’re getting divorced,” he said defeatedly as he stared out the window.

“What? Why?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at you, “She wants more than I can give her. She needs to be with women, she said. And…” he gulped and looked back out the window, “… she said she couldn’t ever look at me the same after that night. Said I’d never be able to have that with her.”

You kept your brows pinched together as you listened to him. It broke your heart that things had fallen apart for them. That it had all been too much.

“But I thought you two were happy. There was never any indication before that something was wrong.”

He nodded, “I thought so too. But she couldn’t get passed it and she said she’d been thinking about it for a long time. Before we even thought of having you join,” he glanced at you before looking down at his glass, “She’s been needing something else for a while. I never knew. I thought it was enough. I knew she missed women and that kind of softness in bed but I had no idea that it affected her so much. To me, her confession was sudden. But supposedly she’s been keeping it in for a long time.”

Without even thinking you reached out and grabbed his hand, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry looked down at your small hand covering his and up to your eyes, “She said that when she apologized to you she felt free to finally be herself. I was blindsided. Then last week she told me she was going to go on a date with a woman she’s known for years. Ripped me right half. She was gone all night. But I mean, our marriage is over anyway.”

You gently smoothed your thumb over his knuckles and kept your eyes on his face.

“So I offered her a divorce and told her I can’t tolerate her dating someone if I’m not involved somehow. She understood that. She told me she hoped I would find someone,” he paused as he sighed to collect his words so they didn’t come out as a surprise to you, “…with whom I could have the kind of chemistry she saw that night between us.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Or if you should. You were well aware of the way you and Harry connected and how natural everything felt with him. But at the same time, you never thought it was much more than just good chemistry. You couldn’t allow yourself to think of it as more than that.

“Anyway, she’s at home with the boys and I needed to get out and breathe. Figured I’d have a beer or two and then go back home. Sleep in the guest room like I have been. We’re still trying to figure out how to tell the kids.”

You nodded softly, “That’s awful, Harry. I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry.”

Harry breathed out a laugh through his nostrils and shook his head, “You don’t need to pity me. I’m sad but I’ll be okay. It’s better anyway, I think in the end. She wasn’t fulfilled and part of me knows I wasn’t either. We could have made it work but I don’t think she’d have been happy for much longer. It was only a matter of time I suppose.”

“Y/n! Next game’s about to start. You wanna join?” Arla suddenly interrupted.

You turned to look at her and back to Harry, “This is Harry, and Harry, this is my friend Arla. She and I have two classes together.”

Harry smiled at your friend and looked at you, “I’m just about to finish up. You go and enjoy your night off with your friends.”

You didn’t want to part ways with Harry yet. It felt like you needed to sit with him longer. So you turned to Arla, “I’m gonna pass. But you guys go ahead!”

“Are you sure?” She looked from you to Harry and back to you again.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

When she walked off Harry grabbed your hand, “You don’t have to pity me I said. I’m okay, really. I know this has to be boring for you to sit here listening to me whine about my life. You should go.”

Shaking your head you frowned, “I didn’t want to go, Harry. Thought maybe if you’re leaving anyway I could walk you out. Hug you goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll ever see you again. Or if I see you again…”

Harry tilted his head and nodded, “Okay. Deal. I’ll settle up and be right back.”

You watched Harry make his way to the bar and get his credit card back from the bartender. He was achingly attractive, even doing absolutely nothing, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. And far and away the kindest.

When he returned you stood from the stool and he gestured for you to lead the way to the door. The night air was warm as you turned to look up at Harry.

“I’m parked just up the street,” he jutted his chin in the direction of his car, “It was really nice to see you–“

“I’ll walk with you to your car,” you rushed the words out. You weren’t ready for him to leave. You were certain you’d never see him again and that thought was scarier than insisting you walk him to his car. Maybe just being near him for a few extra moments would make you feel better.

Silently you both walked side by side down the sidewalk toward his car. And when you got to his spot he smiled down at you, “Did you drive here?”

You shook your head, “Shared an Uber with two of my friends.”

He nodded, “Well, Y/n…” he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you pulled your arms around his middle and smushed your face against his chest. He squeezed you tight and you squeezed back.

You felt his breath at your temple, “God I’m gonna miss you.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, “I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

The streetlamp that cast the smallest bit of light from across the street flickered off and then sputtered back on again as you kept your eyes locked with Harry’s. You’d miss his eyes and his cologne and how nice he was to you. It felt wrong to simply let him leave.

“Y/n…” Harry spoke softly as he brought a hand up to your face, his fingers slid behind your ear and his thumb caressed your cheekbone, “Can I have one more kiss? If it’s okay?”

Nodding your head you felt his hand pull your face closer to his. He pressed his nose against yours as you fluttered your eyes shut and then felt his lips gently move over yours.

And something inside of you felt like it’d been unlocked as you opened your mouth and let him slip his tongue inside, to which you pressed yours against his and heard him moan.

You gripped his shirt tight and felt him push your back into his car as he caged you in with his arms and his hips pressed against yours. It had all happened so fast but your head was spinning and you both were lost in each other with a hungry kiss and wet lips.

He moved his hand to your neck and wrapped his palm around the front of your throat, keeping his lips attached to yours before he parted with a soft gasp, “Want to hear you say it just one more time f’me, sweet girl. What do you call me?”

You closed your eyes and felt the tips of his fingers squeezing gently at the side of your neck. You knew exactly what he was asking.

“Daddy,” you breathed before you felt his warm lips slot between yours again. He moaned deeply and you clung to his back in hopes of him staying. You didn’t want this to be it.

When you shifted your hips he lowered a hand to your thigh and pulled it upward, tucking himself in closer.

It turned out, that one more kiss wasn’t just any old kiss. Wasn’t just something you could pull away from once his lips smeared against yours, once his tongue lapped against your tongue. You held him tight through his shirt and he kept your thigh hitched over his hip and his hand at your neck as his mouth moved with yours under the flickering streetlamp.

When he pulled back and looked down at you, you tightened your fingers around his shirt, “Do you want to come over? To my place?” You couldn’t let the moment getaway. Couldn’t let Harry just leave like that. You also couldn’t believe you’d asked him over. But it was that or watch him drive away and never see him again.

Harry pulled his hand off your neck and softly tucked his fingers to the back of your head, “Really?”

You nodded and raised your brows, suddenly feeling the heat of embarrassment, “If you want. I mean you don’t–“

Your words were swallowed by Harry’s mouth over yours again. Soft lips and wet tongue making you ache and filling you with just enough gall to ask for what you’d wanted. And that was to have him in your apartment. Alone. You just wanted a little bit more. Before it was all over and forgotten and in the past. Before the moment was just something you’d look back on in the future with a tinge of sadness but with a smile on your face.

Harry opened his passenger side door for you to get inside and you texted Jax quickly explaining your sudden absence with an apology. You could explain to your friends later.

You felt Harry scoop your hand into his as he started his car and pulled out into the street. The song on the radio had just come to an end and a commercial began to play, “You’ll have to remind me of your address,” Harry glanced at you before looking back at the street.

“Oh! Yeah! Of course. Um… Just take this street to Caldwell and take a right and then we’ll go to the bridge and merge onto the highway but you’ll only be on for one exit and then the first right off the access road. Then it’s like two miles and the apartments are on the left.”

Harry laughed, “Maybe you can tell me as we approach where I need to turn. I’m a little wound up right now. Might not remember all that,” he grinned.

You were feeling your nerves begin to bubble with each mile closer to your apartment. But Harry was trying to keep you calm, you could tell.

“So, you told me once you don’t have roommates. Is that still the case?”

You nodded and looked at his handsome side profile, “Yeah. No roommates. It’s only a one bedroom. My uncle is the apartment manager and so I get rent super cheap otherwise I wouldn’t be able to have a place on my own.” “That’s nice. Looking forward to seeing it.”

Biting your lip you looked out the window and felt a pinch of anxiety. You knew what was probably about to happen and you’d welcome it! But then after that what? Would he stick around? Would you see him again? Would Kit be mad?

“What are your plans for tomorrow, Y/n?”

You released your bottom lip from your teeth, “I have a paper due on Monday so I planned on getting my sources and starting the outline. I have it mostly written but now I need to back up what I’m saying and that means I’ll probably wind up needing to rewrite some portions. But that’s my plan for tomorrow and Sunday. Get that finished up. What about you?” You looked back at him as you asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon I’m taking the boys to that Science and Play place. Not sure if you ever heard of it?” He peeked at you quickly.

“I have! I’ve actually been there,” you laughed and Harry softly rubbed his thumb along yours.

“William loves it. He’s been begging to go back. And they have a restaurant there so we’ll make a whole afternoon of it. Let the boys explore. Kit’s going out tomorrow and I don’t want the boys to see her getting all dressed up so I’m going to stay out of the house with them as long as possible.”

You nodded, “That makes sense. I’m sorry, Harry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. I’m suddenly not feeling so down about it all right now,” he squeezed your hand as you directed him onto the highway.

You smiled to yourself at his comment and understood what he meant exactly.

After Harry parked in the guest parking spot, you led him to your apartment up a flight of metal stairs to the second floor. You were normally very tidy and neat but you’d been a bit out of sorts since that fateful night and plus getting back into the swing of the new semester meant you had a few things strewn about which all came into view once you turned on the light.

“Sorry about the mess,” you gestured at your couch and the small chair next to it with your clothes draped over the arms.

But Harry didn’t seem to care as he pulled you into his arms and cupped your face, bringing his lips down to yours. You kissed him back with as much heat as he was putting into the kiss. You grasped onto the lats of his back as he moved you with him slowly until he pulled you into his lap on the couch and your fervor only increased.

You ran your fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down your jaw and then to your neck, pecking gently along the front of your throat and back up to your lips, “Loved when you wore that little pearl choker.”

He drew his hands along the outside of your jeans-clad thighs and you pulled away to look at his beautiful face, “I still have it.”

“Mmm… It goes with your innocent act so perfectly,” he grinned, “But I know you’re not innocent, baby. Far from it.”

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke and you felt that recognizable hardness under his pants.

“Why don’t you go put that pretty thing on your neck for Daddy and take off everything else?”

You were quick to push yourself off his lap and go into your bedroom. You smiled as you pulled the choker from its velvet bag and happily put it back onto your neck. You thought you’d never want it on again, but if Harry wanted it on, you would absolutely wear it.

You pulled your shirt off and began to unbutton your pants before pushing them down your legs. You hadn’t done much upkeep on yourself other than just shaving around your bikini line to keep it neat, but you knew better than to start rethinking everything now. If you had a bit of a bush so be it. You were mostly certain Harry wouldn’t mind.

When you unhooked your bra Harry was standing in your doorway watching you. His hands slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt as he watched you peel your panties down your legs.

His shirt hung open as he stepped in front of you and cupped your face. His eyes wandered over your breasts and up to your choker before setting them back on your face, “Do you know how hard you make me, Y/n? This little thing on your neck,” he lowered his thumb to the pearls and pressed on it, “…these sexy lips,” he dipped in and kissed you as he lowered both hands to your tits, “…and these gorgeous breasts.”

You smoothed your hands over his warm chest as his mouth covered yours with lazy, sloppy kisses.

“Want you to bend over the bed. Show me that pretty ass. I think you need a little spanking for making Daddy wait a month and a half to see you again.”

You moaned and then swallowed as you turned around and draped your upper half over your unmade bed, baring your full ass to him.

You felt his hands cupping your bottom and smoothing up and down to your thighs as he cooed at you, “God damn, baby. Look at you. So fucking sweet and naughty for me,” the first strike against your bottom came unexpectedly and immediately after he spoke.

He brought his other palm down on your other side and you yelped and turned to look at him over your shoulder.

He lifted his gaze from your bum to your eyes and smirked at you as he smacked you again. You dropped your mouth open and groaned when he did it again and again until you squeezed your eyes closed and stuffed your face into the mattress as he left stinging handprints on your backside.

When you felt him move away you lifted and turned to look at him behind you as he removed his clothes. He watched you with dark eyes, his sight moving from your bum to your face, “On your knees. Face me,” he motioned for you to move.

You brought yourself to your knees and looked up at him, your eyes big and round and sweet. He licked his lips and ran his knuckles over your temple, “Gotta burn this image into my brain. The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He stroked himself slowly, his cock was already fully thickened and mouthwatering. You looked from his big dick up to his face as he dragged a soft thumb over your lips. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you opened up for him.

“Keep your mouth open like this,” he pressed down on your tongue, making your jaw widen, “There we go. Need space for me in there. You want Daddy’s cock inside your mouth?”

You nodded and gurgled a yes which made him grin proudly, “I know you do. You like having your face fucked, don’t you? Little naughty girl desperate to choke and make Daddy happy.”

“Yes. Please…” you panted and opened your mouth wider for him.

Harry smeared his cock over your lips. His warm tip dragged against the soft skin of your mouth as you poked your tongue out to dab at his slit.

“Go on then. Suck.” He prodded himself forward a bit and you wrapped your lips around his smooth tip and grasped at this base. Swirling your tongue around the skin under his crown you pushed yourself down on him and pulled back, sucking in and dragging your tongue along the way before edging back down again, trying to get him as deep as possible.

You’d given head before. You had never much enjoyed it. Felt it was more a means to an end sometimes. But with Harry standing over you and cradling the back of your head, his eyes on your mouth as you took him on your tongue you realized you loved giving head. Maybe it was just Harry, though. Maybe you only loved sucking his cock because it was attached to him and you wanted to please him in every way you possibly could.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned breathily as you looked up at him with your puffy lips parted around him, moving up and down, sucking and licking, hollowing your cheeks every time you pulled back to his tip just before pushing him further into your mouth.

When you put a hand on his ball sac and softly rolled it in your palm Harry threw his head back and panted breathily, “Oh my god, baby.”

You continued your work as your eyes became blurred with tears and your chin wet with drool. You stuffed yourself down over him until his tip was poked into your throat and you gagged around him. When you repeated that move, causing you to swallow around him and gag lightly, still gently massaging his balls he pulled you off and lifted you to stand up.

“Enough for now. Think you’ve earned a reward for that.” He gently walked you backward to your bed and then gestured for you to get on just as he climbed on and pulled you over his lap again. Harry laid down, bringing you with him, and kissed you. You could feel his solid, damp cock against your pussy as you kissed him and he groped your bottom, moving you up and down against him slowly, your pussylips pushed apart and dragged over his cock.

Suddenly he pushed at you, making you sit upright, your hands on his pecs as he cupped your tits in his hands, “I want you to ride my face. Get yourself off.”

You laughed and looked at him, “How should I…”

But you let out a small squeak as he pulled at you and dragged you up his chest and over his face, gripping onto your hips and making you settle your pussy over his lips. He began kissing and licking right away, his eyes on you.

“Ohhh…” you placed your hands on the top of the headboard as you looked down and watched Harry under you. It felt so good having him naked in your bed. Having his eyes on you. Having his hands on your ass. His lips on your pussy.

You slowly tilted your hips forward and felt the sparkle of your clit being pressed into his mouth. Harry held you down tight and lapped at you, concentrating on your clit as he sucked on it.

Harry’s fingers dug into your soft bum and you felt as he moved one hand, reaching further back and dipping a finger into your pussy before smearing your arousal up and over your anus. You gasped as you stared down at his eyes. He softly circled the spot as he continued working on your clit with his mouth.

You’d never had anything done to your bottom before, but if Harry wanted to, you’d let him. You were pretty much all yes and please when it came to him anyway. You’d happily let him do what he wanted.

But he never pressed in. He only pushed at your hole and circled over the outside with a wet finger and it had you reeling.

“Daddy, oh my god!”

Harry moved his hand away and put it back on your hips so he could pull you down and move you back and forth over his face. You felt like you were in such a vulnerable position, naked, sitting on his mouth the way you were. There was part of you that worried you were crushing him but he only pulled you against his mouth harder, his brows furrowing as he tried to draw an orgasm out of you.

He moaned against your clit and drew it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick against it. The little wet noises coming from his mouth against you sounded dirty with the backdrop of your loud moaning.

Sometimes you were able to force an orgasm from yourself if you held your vibrator against your clit. Even if you weren’t worked up at all. Just for a quick release.

But you were definitely worked up with Harry. Wet and puffy and the way he was mouthing and pulling at your clit with his lips you couldn’t stop your climax even if you wanted to. It dripped from your cunt all over his mouth as you loudly cried out. Your thighs quivered around his head as you leaned forward and felt wave after wave of your release.

Harry kept his hands tight on you, holding you close so he could make sure you were feeling everything he gave you.

“Fffffuuuu!” You were feeling overwhelmed as he continued sucking you in and holding you down over him. You whined and tried lifting your hips up but he swatted at your ass before gripping your thigh and doubling down on your clit.

“Oooh ssssshhit! Ffuck!” You were trembling uncontrollably as you white-knuckled the headboard and looked down at the scene of the crime. Harry’s head between your thighs with his eyes on yours and his wet nose was lewd.

But then something snapped and the overwhelming feeling started to melt into yet another orgasm that was drawn from you without warning. You cried and whimpered as Harry let go of your thighs and put his hands at your waist to keep you steady. Your whole body trembled as you tried to hold onto the headboard but you were feeling out of your mind and blurry.

When he moved you to your back you were still coming down from the back-to-back orgasms and your brain was trying to fight its way back to the surface of clarity and awareness. Harry lay next to you and kissed your neck, his fingers trailing up your tummy and over your breasts and to your little choker, “You okay, Y/n?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your chest was still rising and falling heavily as you nodded, “I’m so good.”

You felt Harry’s thigh draped over the tops of yours as he trailed soft kisses up your neck and to your jaw, “You are so good.”

Reaching across your body you placed your fingers in Harry’s hair, “I want you to come, Daddy.”

Harry laughed out a puff of breath against your jaw and lifted his face to look at you, “Oh you do? You’re so sweet, honey,” his voice came out raspy and deep as he kneed his way between your legs, pushing your thighs apart and fitting himself comfortably over you, pulling at your knees to bend them up so your feet were flat.

He smiled down at you, breaking the lusty moment, “You don’t happen to have a condom do you?”

You thought for a moment. You were sure you didn’t, “I don’t really think I do. But,” you gulped and flexed your fingers nervously into the skin of his back, “I’m on birth control, so…”

Harry pursed his lips in pause as he kept his eyes on yours, “Okay,” he dipped down to kiss you, “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Want to feel you,” you nodded.

You were still so wet between your legs. You could feel Harry’s length easily slide against your pussy as he shifted himself down and pressed the top of his thighs into the back of yours, pushing your legs up slightly.

He placed his forearms down on the bed, caging you in, and pressed his mouth to yours softly. You felt him nudging at your opening so you lifted your hips, pushing against him as his tongue licked at the crease of your lips. The moment you felt his bulbous tip press through the tight muscle of your opening you gasped, dropping your mouth wide open. The feel of him entering you slowly with the weight of his hips against yours had you melting.

“That feels so good, doesn’t it baby?”

You whimpered with a nod, “Yes, Daddy…”

“Fuck I can hear how wet you are for me,” he pulled back and then pressed in. “Gonna make me come so hard, sweet girl.”

The deeper he went in the more you felt your body floating away. There was no question that Harry had a big dick. And you knew he was aware of this as well because he was gentle with you as he inched his way in and pulled back slowly.

When he’d finally poked in as deep as possible and his balls were tucked into your ass he sloppily kissed you as he began to fuck into you with slow and languid strokes. Gushy and hot and unforgiving. Even as slow as he was going every time his head nudged into your cervix you hissed into his mouth. But there was something about the little ache that you loved. Probably because it was Harry.

His pelvis dragged against your clit every time he pushed in and you felt his hand clutch the back of your neck as he licked into your mouth.

Your pussy was so full. So happy. You could feel yourself open and stretch around him. It had your head spinning.

Harry grunted as he lifted himself and softly pressed his nose against yours, “Feel that, baby? Feel Daddy’s cock sliding inside of your tight pussy? You’re gripping me so good.”

His slow rhythmic thrusts grew faster as he let go of the back of your neck and pushed himself up, palms on the mattress. His plunges were deeper and stronger and his thighs and back were flexing as he worked himself in and out, faster little by little.

“Shit! Daddy!” You shakily yelped at the faster cadence and the way he was now punching into your cervix, “It’s so fucking deep,” you gritted your teeth and threw your neck back.

“Is it too deep for your little pussy, honey? Huh?” He rutted his hips in as he asked, punctuating what he meant.

You inhaled sharply when he plunged in again, grinding his hips against yours and stuffing himself into the hilt, “Oh my god, yes! But I need it!”

Harry groaned as kept himself balls deep and sat back onto his haunches, grabbing onto your thighs to keep you in place.

With his hands at the back of your knees, he began to slide into you in long, heavy strokes until he was smacking into you just enough that your tits were bouncing and your bed was creaking in time with his thrusts.

Harry licked his thumb and lowered it to your clit which had you jolting with a small cry. Your clit was super sensitive after the way he’d handled you moments earlier.

He watched his cock move through your hole, your pussy wrapped around him tight and coating him in your cream. He moaned as his thumb was lathered in your arousal from how he was slipping it back and forth over your puffy clit.

Your small grunts and squeaks increased the wetter you got and the harder the mattress bounced under you. The patting of his skin against yours was rhythmic and bumped you upward every time he slammed into you.

You started to see stars, you could swear it as your limbs began to tingle and disintegrate. Harry was grunting and moaning at the view of your pussy wrapped around him tight and the way it felt to be swallowed by you, warm and wet and clenching.

Harry gasped and paused his strokes as he breathed heavily. His chest was red as leaned back over you and kissed you so sweetly it took your breath away. You both moaned in synch as your tongues wound around each other and wet lips slobbered together when he began to drill into you again, slower but with muscle.

You started to quiver with his chest pressed to yours and his cock deep inside of you, his pelvis grinding against yours.

“There you go… let me feel that pussy coming. Oh, baby that feels good doesn’t it,” he rutted into you as he spoke against your lips.

You nearly howled with your third orgasm. It was one thing to come from clitoral stimulation but quite another to have your clit being smeared into while having a big cock nudging in and out of you as you lost control of all functions.

Harry watched your face as you scrunched your brow and chanted Daddy and he drove into you in solid, squelching plunges. His cock made its way over your spongy insides repeatedly, hitting that one spot with his big crown over and over again until you were spent. Done for. There was nothing left for you to give.

Harry kissed you softly, stuffing himself into you gently, and moaned, “M’gonna come baby but I’m gonna pull out okay? Where do you want it sweet girl?”

You peeled your eyes open and exhaled softly, “In my mouth. Let me have it in my mouth, Daddy,” you nodded as you gripped his shoulders.

Harry stopped his motions and looked at you, almost as if in awe as he ticked his head back in forth like he was in disbelief, “Yeah?”

You nodded as he plunged in a few more times, pressing you upward, his eyes on yours as his moaning progressively got softer and you swore whiney even.

He pushed himself up and pulled out, taking his cock in his hand and pumping himself, smoothing your creamy arousal around his shaft and smothering his palm. He took his other hand and pulled you up by your neck and brought your mouth over his cock as he sat back onto his haunches.

You quickly lowered your mouth over him, tasting your juices as you sucked him in and then felt him begin to release down your throat in spurts. He coughed out a loud groan as he rutted upward, his tip slipping down your throat with his hand at the back of your head, “Fuck!” He panted and you felt his thighs shaking as he rolled his hips upward.

You swallowed and gurgled him down the best you could, gripping the base of his shaft in your hand and sucking while swirling your tongue around him until his cock stopped throbbing and pumping and he was softly gasping and breathing.

You licked your way up and popped your mouth off of him but you were in a daze.

Harry smoothed his lips against yours and easily laid you down on your back, “Just lay here and rest. I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself at the taste in your mouth and the way your body was buzzing with satisfaction.

Opening your eyes just as Harry walked back into the room he was buck naked, cock swinging, chest slightly damp, and impossibly strong thighs. A god really. You’d never get over his body.

He held a glass of water out to you and had brought in a damp towel to wipe you up. You sat up to take a few gulps of water before he delicately pushed you to lie back down. The towel was warm and it felt so good on your sensitive skin.

Harry laid next to you and kissed your cheek and then nuzzled into your neck, his hot breath falling over your skin, “You’re amazing, baby. I’m never gonna forget tonight. So good for me.”

You sighed and turned to face him as he gently dabbed between your legs, “Kiss me, Daddy.”

His grin made the edges of his eyes crinkle, “Happily.” He pressed his mouth against yours and you both kissed soft and lazy as he tossed the damp towel to your floor and wrapped you in his arms.

You couldn’t be sure of how he kissed you but when he was helping you out of bed and speaking softly to you about having a bath with him so he could hold you longer you felt wobbly still.

With your eyes closed and your back against his chest in the warm water, he started talking. And as you felt more aware and conscious you realized he was sort of spilling his guts to you.

“I was so sad when I woke up this morning. But seeing you and all this,” he squeezed your arms, “I think I can breathe now. You made everything feel better, Y/n.”

You listened closely as he continued, his chest vibrating as he spoke, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. And I realized something too. Tonight. Just now. I think Kit was right. You and I do really have good chemistry. We fit so well together don’t we?”

You hummed and nodded with a small smile on your face.

He sighed and pulled his arms around you, “Don’t want this night to end. Want to just stay here with you, holding you like this.”

Your heart began to pound as you started to feel his words. You knew what he meant and you felt it. You could feel his scruff on your temple as he rubbed his face in toward yours, “You feeling better now?”

You nodded and turned toward his face, “Yes. So much better. You make me feel so good.”

Harry slowly blinked as he kept his gaze on yours, “You make me feel so good too.”

When the water grew tepid Harry wrapped you in a towel and tightly hugged you as he walked you to your room and made you drink more water.

He took your towel off and helped you into your bed and pulled your blankets over your naked body before he began to pick up his clothes from the floor.

You pouted and sat up, “Please don’t go. Will you stay here tonight? I need you here with me. I think I just…” you felt tears in your eyes as you looked upward to will them away.

Harry dropped his pants to the floor and sat on your bed, cupping your face to look at you, “I didn’t want to assume you wanted me to stay. But I’ll stay tonight. I’d love to stay with you.

So he did. He held you in his arms, pet your back, and kissed your forehead until you had drifted away into a deep sleep.

The morning was slow with the first bit of sun shining through the cracks of your window. You were burning hot in Harry’s arms so you poked your head up and breathed as you wiggled out of his hold.

“Where you going?” His groggy morning voice was too sexy to make sense.

“I have to pee,” you laughed as he released your wrist and you quickly padded to your bathroom.

When you got back into your room Harry was already dressed and running a hand through his hair as he looked at himself in your mirror.

Turning to face you he grinned at your Pokemon robe, “Cute. You’re always so fucking cute, Y/n.”

You looked down at the robe and shrugged at him with a small smile.

“I have to go. I hate to leave so quickly but I’ve got to get home to the boys and get them ready for our little outing today.”

You nodded, “Yeah. That’s okay. I understand.”

Harry tilted his head as he stepped in front of you and pulled you in for a hug. It felt like one of those this-is-it hugs. It felt so final.

“Y/n,” Harry pulled back to look at you, “You’re amazing. If you ever need anything or just want to say hi, you know how to reach me.”

You walked him to your door and watched as he made his way down the steps and out of your sight. Your final view of the only man you were sure you’d never get over.

. . .

“This is cute,” your cousin reached out to touch your pink pearl choker as you stuffed your bag with clothes.

You paused what you were doing and placed your fingers over the necklace with a smile, “Thank you.”

The necklace gave you warm and happy memories now. As much as you wished something could have happened between you and Harry you knew that just wasn’t possible. He was going through a divorce, had kids, a broken heart… But your last night together had mended you wholly. You knew it was something you’d never forget and you were grateful to him. You just hoped that maybe it did him some good too. Maybe it was something he took with him that made him smile like it did you.

The days and weeks after had been hard for you. Often you’d pick up your phone and compose a text, only to read it over and over again before deleting it. It was hard to let him go completely but now it was Christmas Eve and you felt like you were on the other side of it. Mostly. You still thought of him every day but it was easier.

“You have such good taste. You’ll have to go with me shopping sometime.” Chandy spoke as she plopped down on your bed next to your bag.

“That sounds fun actually.”

Chandy had come over to your apartment to pick you up since she lived so close. You were heading to her family home an hour out of the city. It was tradition for the whole family to get together at your aunt and uncle’s lake home. It was gorgeous in the winter with their soaring windows and snow all around.

You stacked presents into two grocery bags and slung your overnight bag over your shoulder, “Ready?”

“Yes! First, I have to use your bathroom then we’ll hit the road.” Chandy rushed off.

You sat on the edge of the arm of your couch and pulled out your phone to see a text that had your heart squeezing and throbbing.

It was a picture of Harry and the boys in front of a Christmas tree and his text read:

Merry Christmas, Y/n. We miss you!

You quickly typed out a response.

Merry Christmas! I miss you guys so much!

You placed your hand over your heart to calm yourself and the sudden rush of all your feelings you thought had begun to fade away came rushing back.

You closed your eyes after you watched your sent text go from delivered to read.

When you opened your eyes and saw that he was typing something your entire body grew hot as you stared intently at your phone.

“Okay! Ready!” Chandy chirped.

You stood up with your phone in your hand, “Uh, I’m gonna just go to the bathroom too real quick!”

You closed the bathroom door and felt the vibration from an incoming text. A wide grin on your face.

What are you doing for New Year’s?

As fast as your fingers allowed you responded.

No plans. What about you?

It was the longest wait while you watched the bouncing dots stop and restart. A full minute of waiting as you flushed the toilet (to pretend you’d been using it so Chandy didn’t wonder) and then washed your hands, staring at your screen.

The boys and I will be making a very “special” dinner and then we’ll ring in the New Year with sparkling grape juice and The Poseidon Adventure. They each invited a friend and told me I had to invite someone too.

Drying your hands off, you bit your lip and typed.

That sounds so fun. Who will you invite?

You chuckled to yourself. You were almost certain he was inviting you but you couldn’t be sure until you saw his response.

I’m inviting YOU. Wasn’t it obvious? ; )

Well, in that case, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. <3

. . .

You had no idea what to expect for New Year’s but you and Harry hadn’t stopped texting since he reached out. The whole time you were with your family on Christmas you kept your phone by your side so you wouldn’t miss a single message.

You dressed casually for the New Year’s Eve party at Harry’s because there were going to be 4 ten-year-old boys there. And you learned the “special” dinner they were making was grilled cheese sandwiches, French fries, and for dessert chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It honestly sounded amazing.

You also learned that Kit had moved out, leaving the house to Harry and they were on very good terms. They would split custody of the boys 50 / 50. And that technically they were still married but the divorce was moving along quickly because there were very few things that needed to be worked out. They seemed to be on the same page.

You parked in the street in front of the Styles house and noticed lights strung up on the columns of the porch and a Christmas wreath on the front door.

The moment you closed the door to your car you saw the front door open and Warner and William busted out and ran toward you, “Y/n!! You came!” – “Dad said you were coming!”

They both hugged you, one on each side and you could have cried. You hadn’t seen them since August and it was already December. You felt like they’d grown bigger in those few months.

They started to pull you toward the house but you laughed and stopped, “Hold on! I have presents for everyone in the car I have to get.”

You opened your trunk and pulled out two bags that had presents inside and when you closed it Harry was there in the yard watching you with a soft grin. You felt blood rush to the apples of your cheeks at the sight of him and your heart throbbed in your chest.

“Hi, Y/n,” his dimples winked awake and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he stepped forward to take your bags, handing one to Warner and one to William, “Take these inside and pour Y/n a glass of the New Year’s mocktail we made. We’ll be right in.”

You clasped your hands behind your back as you let your eyes fall over his outfit. He was wearing a red chunky knit sweater with a big green Christmas tree in the center that had gold and silver balls all over it, “Love the sweater.”

Harry looked down at it and back at you, “Love that you’re here.”

The heat that spread over your face stretched down your neck and your back as he stepped in closer. He was far too handsome for his own good and all the memories you had with him were flooding your brain with inappropriate thoughts but also with fondness and excitement.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You looked up at him as he stood directly in front of you.

Harry stared down at you for a moment, his eyes blinking and his pink lips twitching tremulously, “I know I look ridiculous in this,” he gestured at his sweater looking down at it and then back at you, “and this isn’t the most romantic reunion but I wanted to ask you before the festivities started if you’d like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

Your lips parted as the question floated around in the air between you two. You couldn’t believe he was asking you on a date.

“A date? Like…” You bit your lip and looked down at the ground and back up at Harry, “A date date?”

Harry smiled widely and nodded, “A date date.”

You exhaled a small laugh and nodded, “Harry, I’d love that. Yes.”

Suddenly his arms were wound around your middle and you squealed as he lifted you from the ground and spun you in his arms. The moment your feet hit the grass he gave you a quick kiss, cupping your face in his hands, and then parted as he looked back at the house.

Harry let you go and smirked at you as he took your hand to lead you to the house whispering, “Now I know this sweater is pure sex but you’re just gonna have to keep your hands to yourself tonight.”

You laughed and squeezed his hand, “It’s gonna be hard but I think I can behave.”

Harry stopped and turned his face toward you, his warm mouth at your ear, “Y/n, I’m so glad you’re here.”

A/N: I hope you guys loved this! Let me know your thoughts please!!

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