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earlysunshines · 27 days ago

Text

oh say it ditto

danielle marsh x fem!reader

synopsis: you have to help out at the elementary school for service hours and of course you’re paired with true girl you’ve literally been in love with since middle school.

warnings: literally none. just fluff. so cute. they're so cute. i need to be put behind bars for this. it's so... cute. what. ; loser!!!!!!yn i fear ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread ; i'm so giddy. they're so cute. i hate couples. i cnat breathe theyre so gay and in love.

a/n: I MISSED WRITING FOR MO DANI UGGHHHH MO DANIIII!!!!!

danielle marsh is perfect. she’s smart, kind, and easily the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. people always say she’s too good to be true, like a disney princess pulled right out of a movie, the kind of person who seems flawless in every way.

but to you? that description feels like an understatement—an understatement times ten.

there is not a single metaphor that could ever capture the way her presence lights up a room, or the way her smile—bright and contagious—makes your heart do flips. she’s beyond comparison, beyond words. you’ve known her since middle school, and in all that time despite barely having time with her, the feeling has only grown. she’s the type of person that’s just barely out of reach, so you’ve learned to cope with it.

which is exactly why, when your teacher had pulled you two aside after class, announcing that you’d be paired with her for your volunteer hours at the local elementary school, your stomach practically dropped to your shoes. she’s the type of person that’s just barely out of reach, so you’ve learned to cope with it. but now? she’s just within reach.

“some others filled out the form, but i only needed the two of you since it’s for a smaller group.” mr. jeong explained. “and you two are the perfect candidates. thank you for your interest in this, my wife is really glad that we’re able to send the two of you over to help out—she works at the school.”

you clutch the strap of your bag a little tighter, trying to stay visibly and mentally composed. danielle is beside you smiling at your physics teacher, and then you catch her smiling at you from the corner of your eye. turning a bit, you shoot a small grin, then excuse yourself out.

just your luck, but maybe you’ll survive. this could turn out great for you!

as you walk down the hall, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. turning around, it’s her.

danielle is behind you smiling. “see you monday!” she says with that honeyed voice of hers.

knowing yourself, maybe it won’t turn out so great. you might be doomed considering how much of a loser you are compared to miss sunshine.

—

you arrive at the elementary school the following monday, heart pounding as you push open the heavy doors to the small classroom where the after-school program is being held. a group of kids are already gathered, some working on crafts, others running around, their laughter filling the air. but none of it matters because standing near the teacher's desk, helping a kid tie their shoe, is danielle.

she looks up just as you step in, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "hey! looks like we’re partners in crime for the next few weeks," she says with a smile so genuine it makes you dizzy. “i’m glad you’re here.”

you force a grin, trying to play it cool. "yeah. um, and likewise.”

the teacher quickly assigns you both to work with a small group of students on some arts and crafts. you watch as danielle sits down with the kids, her voice soft and encouraging as she helps them cut out construction paper shapes. you, meanwhile, sit on the opposite side of the table, trying not to focus too much on the fact that you're mere feet away from the girl who’s had your heart for as long as you can remember.

as the session goes on, you find yourself slowly relaxing. the kids are lively and fun, and danielle's easygoing nature makes everything feel less intimidating (though the only thing that really made everything seem like that was her). she’s chatting with the students, laughing when they show her their goofy creations, and every now and then, she glances your way, offering you a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"how are you so good with them?" you ask her while cleaning up the table, genuinely curious.

danielle shrugs, her eyes twinkling. "i don’t know, i’m just fond of kids. they’re honest, you know? and they don’t care if you mess up or say the wrong thing."

you smiled, nodding, but her words hit closer to home than she realized. if only you could believe that—if only you could let yourself stop overthinking everything when it came to her.

“like you could ever do that,” you mutter under your breath. danielle catches it, but doesn’t comment on it. “i guess you’re right. i didn’t think of it that way.” you say at a normal volume, and danielle doesn’t have a hard time catching that.

as the afternoon starts to wind down, one of the kids tugs on your sleeve, showing you his glitter-covered drawing of what appears to be a dinosaur. "do you like it?" he ask, his eyes wide with anticipation.

you glance at danielle, who’s watching you with a curious expression, and suddenly, it feels like this moment matters more than anything. you take the drawing, smile at the kid, and say, "i think it’s awesome."

out of the corner of your eye, you catch danielle beaming at you, and for a second, it feels like maybe—just maybe—this whole thing won’t be as hard as you thought.

–

as the kids rushed out of the room, their laughter echoing down the hallways, you found yourself lingering behind, picking up scraps of paper and wiping glitter off the tables. danielle was still there too, helping the teacher gather leftover supplies. the room felt quieter now, just the two of you in the aftermath of the chaos, and for a moment, you both moved in comfortable silence, the air between you lighter than it had been earlier.

"it’s been a while, huh?" danielle said softly, her voice breaking the quiet as she stacked a few cups of markers on the shelf. you glanced over at her, heart suddenly racing again, because it was true—you hadn’t really spoken to her much since middle school, despite always being around. besides, she had been taking different courses than you, so there weren’t many shared classes. even if their were, you two had your respective groups, and danielle was quite popular compared to you, so you stayed out the picture while admiring from afar.

"yeah," you nodded, tossing some crumpled-up paper into the trash bin, smiling when you make it. "guess we’ve both been pretty busy."

she smiled, that same soft, almost shy smile that always made your chest tighten. "swim has been taking up your time, huh?”

“oh, yeah, haha.”

“i’ve seen you around at your practices, you’re really good!”

“y-you have?” your eyes widen with surprise, gaze staying on her as she throws something away.

“my friend hyein is on the team, you know her?”

“ah,” the underclassmen that tried to drown you (in a playful way, because that’s playful to hyein. allegedly so). “yeah.” you giggle thinking about your swimmate. “she’s very… fun.”

“she’s always up to something.” danielle giggles.

quiet fills the air as you two continue cleaning. danielle is stacking chairs, and you’re lifting each stack over to the edge of the classroom. neither of you say anything for a while, mindful of the other in a semi-awkward silence as you help the janitors out.

danielle breaks the silence again.

“i didn’t realize how much i missed seeing you around until today," she admits, her words gentle but carrying more weight than you expected. she’s looking at you, standing maybe ten tiles away and her eyes are stuck on yours. you feel like you’re being mushed into the ground.

you blinked, caught off guard by her honesty, and suddenly, you weren’t sure how to respond. so you just smiled back, hoping it didn’t look too awkward. "yeah… same here, actually."

the silence stretched once again as you both continued cleaning up, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. it felt like something was shifting between you two, the years of distance slowly fading away, replaced by an old familiarity that had never really gone away.

once most of the mess was cleaned up, you found yourselves standing near the door, neither of you in any real hurry to leave. danielle looked down at her phone for a moment, then back up at you. "hey, do you drive?" she asked, her voice a little hesitant.

you nodded. "yeah, i do. why?"

"i was thinking... we should probably carpool for this," she said, motioning to the classroom. "since we’re both gonna be volunteering here for the next few weeks, might as well make it easier on ourselves, right?"

the idea of seeing her more often, spending more time together, made your heart skip a beat. "yeah, that sounds like a good plan," you agreed, trying to sound casual. "i can pick you up if you want?"

her eyes brightened at that, and for a moment, you could swear there was a bit of relief in her expression. "that’d be great."

you pulled out your phone, opening up your contacts, and as you handed it over to her, your fingers brushed hers. it was a small, brief touch, but goosebumps were poking at the inside of your shirt after. even the hairs on your arm started to stand noticeably. danielle didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she did—but either way, she calmly typed in her number and handed the phone back to you with a smile.

"there," she said, her voice light. "now you have no excuse not to keep in touch."

you laughed, feeling your heart swell. "no excuses," you promised, and as you both left the classroom together, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between you two—the connection that had always been there but was finally starting to come into focus.

—

swim practice took up most of your days, which you didn’t mind. most of your friends were on the team anyway, so it just gave you an excuse to hang out when you weren’t practicing for your respective races.

it always went like this: ten minutes of warmups—light stretches and a couple of easy laps to get your muscles moving. then came fifteen minutes of drills, laps back and forth with barely any rest in between, focusing on your form, speed, and turns. the coach would shout instructions from the edge of the pool, calling out corrections or praise when you hit the perfect stroke. after that, you’d usually break into smaller groups, each focusing on different parts of the race. whether it was freestyle, butterfly, or backstroke, you’d put everything into perfecting your technique—freestyle was your forte—until your muscles burned and your lungs screamed for air.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, practice would wrap up with a cooldown: slow laps, easy strokes, and a few more stretches. additionally, there would be playful banter, and hyein would always find a way to bother you since she was also focused on freestyle. you two were inevitably always together, she was like the younger relative that would pester you any chance you got.

your body always felt heavy afterward, but in a good way. exhausted and accomplished.

you were dripping wet as you pulled yourself out of the pool, every step feeling heavier than the last. practice might’ve ended, but the exhaustion clung to you as you made your way to the locker room, the sound of splashing water and your teammates’ chatter filling the space around you.

you changed quickly, glad to get out of your damp swimsuit, and ran a towel through your hair as best you could. it was still dripping slightly when you finally stepped out of the locker room, feeling refreshed but undeniably drained.

and then you saw her.

danielle stood just outside the entrance, her presence so unexpected that you almost stumbled in surprise. you should be used to this, maybe, considering you saw her yesterday. your heart jumped to your throat, tiredness vanishing in an instant. she was leaning casually against the wall, scrolling through her phone, but when she noticed you, her eyes lit up, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"hey!" she called out, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "fancy seeing you here." she says sarcastically.

your heart was pounding, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your hair was probably sticking out at odd angles, still damp and messy. "h-hi," you stammered, mentally kicking yourself for sounding so awkward. "what—what are you doing here?"

danielle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking a little sheepish. "i’m actually waiting for hyein.." she glanced away, then back at you with a small, hesitant smile. "but, um, i wanted to see you too. just to say hi."

your heart practically stopped at that. she wanted to see you. you felt your cheeks start to burn, or maybe they were always a little warm, you took a hot shower earlier and that would make a lot of sense, but also danielle is—

you scramble to find something—anything—to say that wouldn’t make you seem like a complete idiot. "oh, uh, really? that’s… nice. i mean, it’s great. i—it’s good to see you, too. again. we saw each other yesterday."

“why yes, we did.” danielle laughed softly, her eyes crinkling in that way that always made your stomach flip. "you’re cute— and funny."

you blinked, completely caught off guard. your brain was short-circuiting. did she really just say that? were you more cute or funny? was the cute just thrown in there? you think for a bit, you make people laugh easily and— you need to stop thinking.

"oh, um, thank you? you too." you respond. she laughs again, shaking her head.

"i’m just teasing," she said, though there was something almost… nervous in her gaze as she looked at you. like she wasn’t sure if she’d overstepped. "but really, it’s nice running into you like this. you look different to how you did yesterday."

you glanced down at yourself, still dressed in loose sweats and hoodie, hair a mess. "different good or…?"

"definitely good," she confirmed, her smile widening. "you look… relaxed. it suits you."

relaxed, right. you can’t help but chuckle.

before you could come up with a response that didn’t sound completely ridiculous, someone called your name. you turned to see wonbin waving at you from the other end of the hall where the boys locker room is, sohee trailing behind him. it "hey! you done?" he asked, his voice carrying over the distance.

you blinked, glancing back at danielle, and she gave you a small, understanding nod. "you should go," she murmured softly. "don’t want to keep your friends waiting."

"yeah, um, i guess i’ll see you next week" you hate how reluctant you sound.

danielle’s smile softened, something almost wistful in her eyes. "yeah, can’t wait to get glitter all over my hands again." she says jokingly. she waved as you turn to join wonbin and sohee, her gaze lingering on you a moment longer. "bye, y/n!"

"bye," you called back, lifting a hand in a half-wave.

you turned away, walking towards your friends, but couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder one last time. danielle was still standing there, watching you leave, and when she caught you looking, she flashed you another quick grin, eyes crinkling and teeth showing. your heart did a flip against your chest.

wonbin nudged your shoulder as you reached them, smirking knowingly. "danielle marsh?" he questioned as if it weren’t the obvious, drawing her name out teasingly. "what’s up with that?"

"nothing is up. get your head out the gutter," you muttered, shoving him lightly, but you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. "we were just talking."

sohee snorted. "right. just talking. sure."

“we literally had a brief conversation, i hope you guys inhale water.”

they both laughed as you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. even as you headed out with them, thoughts of buying a sandwich swirling around, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and danielle—that maybe, just maybe, your friendship was returning with ease.

—

the next week you’re with danielle again. this time she’s heading towards your car, getting in your car, sitting in the passengers seat in your car, and clicking her seatbelt in next to you.

“hey.” she greets, smiling.

“hi.” you respond nervously. you check the time, you’re very early but you’re not sure if you can even drive properly with the prettiest girl in the school next to you. “ready to go?”

“yup!”

“okay!” you respond with the same energy, making her giggle. you just made danielle marsh giggle.

accompanied by you is the sound of music playing in the middle of the silence—a little too loudly—before you glance at her nervously. you apologize, but she shakes her head in your peripheral, putting her hand on the side of your upper arm as she does so. you clench your jaw, forcing a smile as you turn the corner.

she puts a hand over her stomach. “hey, can we stop by and grab a snack? there’s a little convenience store on the way there i always pass by.”

“yeah, of course.”

you pull into the small convenience store’s parking lot, your heart still racing from the brief moment earlier when danielle had laughed at your overly energetic response. you had to focus on driving, but her presence beside you was making it impossible to think straight.

(you’re not that good at doing anything… straight….)

“i’ll be quick,” she says with a smile, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out of the car.

“who said i’m not coming with?” you reply, “i’m not just gonna let you in by yourself.”

“wow,” she smirks, “what a gentle-lady.”

you follow her inside, letting her lead the way. it’s a cozy little store, shelves stocked with snacks, drinks, and everything in between. danielle heads straight to the snacks aisle while you find yourself wandering toward the drinks, hoping to calm your nerves. you scan the selection, pretending to be interested in a row of teas when you feel a sudden gaze on you.

turning slightly, you catch danielle staring at you from across the aisle. her eyes are soft, almost thoughtful, as if she’s studying every little movement you make. your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you freeze, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“uh—” you clear your throat, lifting a tea bottle. “this one any good?”

danielle blinks, snapping out of her thoughts, a shy smile spreading across her face. “oh, yeah! it’s really good. you should try it.”

you nod, trying to play it cool as you glance at the label, but you can still feel her gaze lingering on you. there’s something electric in the air between you two—unspoken, but undeniably there—something that wasn’t there before.

—

the second time you and danielle help out at the elementary school, the day is warmer, and the kids are outside, running around with boundless energy. you’re supervising the chaos, but also playing along with the kids—throwing a frisbee, helping them climb the jungle gym, and laughing as they chase after you.

danielle stands nearby, watching with an amused smile. it’s been a short amount of time since the last time you volunteered together, and she realizes how much she’s missed your presence. she’s always known you were sweet, but seeing you like this—so good with the kids, laughing and having fun, so personally and naturally—makes something inside her chest tighten.

it had been a while since she’d last seen you, not including the first volunteer hours, but just in general since middle school. sure, you had that one class freshman year, and gym during sophomore year, but that wasn’t really much.

between your current classes and different social circles, the chances to bump into you had become rare. but the moment you stepped into the classroom that day, something in her stirred. she couldn’t help but notice how much you’d changed since the last time she saw you. she was able to observe you fully: taller, more confident, but still with that same sweetness in your eyes that had made her stomach flutter before the transition into high school. additionally, you looked good—better than she remembered—and that realization had her heart skipping a beat.

she tries to focus on her own task, playing hopscotch with a few of the younger kids, but her eyes keep drifting back to you. you’re crouching down to tie a little girl’s shoelaces, smiling up at her in that easy, charming way you do. danielle’s heart races as she thinks about how effortlessly kind you are, how even the small things you do make her feel warm inside.

as you finish helping the girl, you catch danielle’s gaze—not for the first time that day. your eyes meet, and for a split second, neither of you looks away. she quickly glances down, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. she can’t help but think how much you’ve changed since middle school—how you’ve grown into someone who’s not just good-looking but incredibly thoughtful, too.

you jog over to where she’s standing, slightly out of breath but grinning. “having fun?”

“yeah,” she replies, her voice a little softer than usual. “you seem like you’re having fun, too.”

“can’t help it,” you shrug, glancing at the kids. “they’re pretty contagious.”

danielle laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. the way you talk to her, so casually and effortlessly, makes her more nervous than she should be. you’ve always been easy to talk to, but now it feels different—like there’s something more beneath the surface.

as the afternoon goes on, the kids' energy only seems to increase. you end up sitting on the grass, surrounded by a group of them, laughing as one of the younger boys insists on “fixing” your hair. his tiny fingers tug gently at the strands, doing his best to style it into something creative—mostly a messy combination of pigtails. you wince occasionally, but you let him continue, his determination too adorable to resist.

danielle watches from a few feet away, trying not to laugh too obviously. she’s been watching you all day, and she can’t help but feel charmed by how good-natured you are, even in moments like this. there’s something so endearing about the way you don’t take yourself too seriously, how you just go with the flow and let these kids have fun with you. she can’t help but sneak a picture, for… the memories of course.

“you look… really good,” she says, teasingly, as she approaches.

you glance up, one eyebrow raised, trying to look at your reflection in the window nearby. “oh yeah? should i make this my new look?”

danielle grins, sitting down beside you. “i think it could be a trend. maybe you’ll make it on the cover of vogue.”

“right, 'styled by six-year-olds' is definitely going to get me scouted. maybe i’ll even be dressed head to toe in like… i don’t know— celine or something luxury.” you chuckle, letting the boy keep working on your hair. "i’ll give you credit for the idea when i get famous.”

danielle laughs, the sound light and soft, and her heart beats dangerously hard. you’re never trying too hard yet still manage to make people feel good just by being yourself. it’s been like this since middle school, but now, it feels more intense, like every small interaction with you is enough to make her stomach twist in turn—in the good way of course.

“do you ever get tired of being everyone’s favorite?” she asks, playfully nudging you with her shoulder.

you blink, looking genuinely confused. “me? everyone’s favorite? what are you talking about?”

“you,” danielle says, smiling. “you’re so… easy to like. look at these kids—they’re obsessed with you. i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone win over a bunch of first-graders that fast.”

you shrug, looking a little bashful. “they’re fun and young, that’s all.”

the kid working on your hair finishes and steps back to admire his masterpiece. “done!” he announces proudly.

danielle bursts into laughter when she sees the final result—your hair is sticking out in all directions, a combination of tiny pigtails and knots. you make a dramatic face, pulling a mock-serious expression. “so… how do i look?”

“like a work of art,” she teases, leaning closer to inspect the chaos. “mona lisa is jealous.”

you can’t help but laugh along with her, feeling the warmth of the moment. even though you’re clueless about how much she’s been thinking about you, about how every little thing you do makes her heart skip, the playful energy between you two is unmistakable. there’s something so natural about being with her like this, so comfortable. it feels right, just like how it was back then.

as the kids run off back toward the adults, you and danielle stay sitting side by side in the grass, the conversation flowing easily as she fixes your hair. it’s like no time has passed since middle school, but at the same time, there’s a new layer to your dynamic.

“you know, i always liked you a lot in middle school.” danielle says suddenly, accidentally pulling out a strand of your hair with the hairtie. you wince, but not at the feeling of your hair being pulled out. “sorry about that.”

“you liked me?”

“i mean, who wouldn’t?” danielle shrugs. “everyone wanted to be your friend, of course i wanted to be yours too!”

that kind of ‘like’---the platonic kind.

“oh,” you mumble, “right, thanks. i liked you a lot too, um, like, you know, as a friend.” you’re lying right in front of her face, well, kind of.

you thought she was just someone sweet and gorgeous, a great friend for maybe two weeks max. she started getting more touchy and affectionate, throwing compliments and making your cheeks flush a little too much. all of it confused you at the ripe age of thirteen, and then the points connected: you had a crush on her.

the moment you realized you liked her was burned into your memory, a core memory that never left. it wasn’t some grand gesture, not some dramatic revelation. it was just the two of you, sitting under the sun after finishing fitness exams early, finding a quiet spot in the grass to relax. you remember her finding a tiny flower in the grass, something you hadn’t even noticed, and without hesitation, she tucked it behind your ear, smiling as she called you wonderful and sweet, like it was the easiest thing in the world—like it was true.

her eyes had lit up, like you were something to be admired, like you were a constellation that she’d stumbled upon. your heart raced in that moment, faster than it ever had during any of the laps you’d run earlier. she just smiled at you, oblivious to the storm she’d created inside of you, and that’s when it hit you: nothing was going to be the same again.

from that day on, thirteen-year-old you couldn’t stop crushing on danielle marsh. it became a constant, something that wove itself into your everyday life, even when you barely saw her. every stolen glance, every random smile she threw your way, things you were sure meant nothing to her, but they were everything to you.

years passed, and even though you both grew older, matured in so many ways, the feelings stayed the same. maybe you were still young, still figuring out your place in the world, but one thing you knew for sure—you were undeniably, hopelessly in love with danielle marsh, and you always would be as long as she existed anywhere near you.

“i know it’s a little late, but i hope we can be friends like that again.” danielle admits, breaking you out of your memory. “i can’t help being so enamored by the person you are now.”

“woah.” you accidentally say, turning away from her and laughing. “sorry, i just— that was really sweet it um, caught me off guard. thank you danielle.”

“you can call me dani, just like you used to.”

“okay.”

her eyes narrow just a bit as her head tilts. she’s hugging her knees to her chest and staring at you while the sun starts to shine golden rays. you blink a few times, tilting your head the same way, and then she smiles again out of nowhere.

“seems like they’re ready to clean up. we should help.”

“for sure.” you say quietly, not budging. “i’ll go when you go.”

danielle giggles, “alright.”

—

after your second day at the elementary school, you and danielle somehow ended up walking to class together. it wasn’t planned, not exactly, but after bumping into each other the next morning, the conversation flowed so naturally that it just made sense to keep talking as you both headed in the same direction.

danielle walked beside you, glancing at you every now and then as you talked about anything and everything—how tiring the kids could be, your classes, random stuff like favorite snacks or the latest movie you wanted to see. you two were passing time, walking in loops around the first floor of the school since the bell would ring in fifteen minutes. every time you said something that made her laugh, her eyes sparkled just a little more, and it wasn’t lost on you how easy it felt to be around her.

eventually, you reached her class as your time together shortened. you stopped and turned to face her, giving a small wave. “i’ll see you around?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah, definitely,” she said, her cheeks flushing the slightest bit. she gave a little wave back, her smile soft and warm. “thanks for walking with me.”

“no problem,” you said, trying to play it cool despite how fast your heart was racing. you turned, heading off to your own class, but you couldn’t help glancing back once, catching her still watching you.

what you didn’t see was danielle running into minji and hanni a few minutes later. the two of them were standing near the classroom and got there a few seconds after danielle, noticing immediately how flustered she seemed as they approached her at her desk.

“was that y/n you just waved goodbye to?” minji asked, her eyebrow raised.

“yeah, we’ve been, uh, talking again. like friends! of course…” danielle said, her voice soft, a blush creeping up her neck as she tried to hide her smile.

hanni grinned, catching on instantly. “getting close again, huh?” she teased, nudging danielle’s arm playfully.

danielle’s cheeks turned a little more pink, and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “something like that,”

minji smirked. “you look way too happy about it.”

danielle looked down, biting her lip to stop from grinning. “it’s nothing,” she muttered, but even she couldn’t believe her own words.

because, really, it felt like everything.

—

later that day you head toward the locker room after a tiring swim practice. sohee is teasing you for messing up during a lap, and hyein continues to add on. you manage to shake sohee off after splitting ways, but hyein is still poking at you.

you shower quickly, dry yourself, and change into your usual hoodie and sweats before waving to your teammates who aren’t done packing up.

once you open the door, you immediately catch danielle leaning against the wall. she looks up as soon as you step out, her features lighting up.

“hey!” she greets.

“hi.” you respond as you walk up to her. “waiting for hyein?”

“um, yeah.” danielle is lying again, this can’t be a good habit. maybe it lying isn’t so bad if it’s to see someone as wonderful as you, danielle thinks. “how was practice?”

“i was kinda slow today, but it was fun.” you sigh, “how has your day been?”

“tiring as well,” she huffs. “but i’m really caught up with schoolwork and the student council meeting was really short.”

“that’s lovely.” you catch sohee and wonbin in the corner of your eye and purse your lips. “those idiots,” your eyes turn towards them and danielle briefly glances at the idiots in question, “are hungry. they’re like vacuums… i swear.”

“i understand, my friends are like that too.” danielle snickers, directing her attention back to you. “hey, i was also wondering if you’d um, like to walk together in the morning? like we can walk or you can eat breakfast. it doesn’t matter. i’m just saying i’d like to be with you tomorrow morning.”

you freeze, parting your mouth to say something, but everything is caught up in your throat.

your brain stops functioning for a moment as you try to process quite literally everything. you manage to respond a few seconds later, “yes!” the eagerness makes you cringe, you cough. “yes, i mean. i’d also like to be with you! u-uhm, in the morning, obviously. yeah. we can do whatever you’d like, just say the words and i’m uh, i’m down.”

her lips turn up and you swear the universe just slapped you in the face. “great,” she says, “i’ll see you tomorrow. you should go feed your friends.”

“yeah, they… eat—a lot. sorry, yeah, i’ll get going. see you!”

“see you y/n!” she waves, and you wave back, walking towards two idiots trying to hold laughter and snarky remarks.

—

you’re helping out the kids as they all tend to their artwork. this time everyone has watercolor, which is a little less messy than your first rodeo at the school. you sit at the table with five children, all of them eager to earn criticism and compliments from their work.

“y/n! y/n! how do you like mine? it’s good right? do you like it?” one girl says, holding up the paper to your face with her little hands.

you chuckle, moving back a bit to get a better view of the work. it’s (what you assume) a scene from the country side; different shades of green line the bottom of the page to imitate grass, and there are different colored flowers peeking out getting shined on by the sun from above.

“it’s gorgeous annie.” you assure, “but i think those flowers are a little lonely without bees.”

the girl brings her paper back and turns it around to inspect. she squints her eyes, biting her lip before nearly slamming it on the ground and beginning to color again. “you’re right! i should’ve done that… also piggies and cows and… the flowers need friends.”

“you’re very creative, i love it!” you beam, patting her shoulder. she turns and smiles at you.

danielle’s palm holds her chin as she watches the interaction from a table away, grinning without knowing. her smile only grows when you give suggestions to another kid, and then she’s breaking away after a child tugs at her hair subtly.

“miss danielle, why are you staring at y/n so much?” the boy asks shyly.

“o-oh.” danielle’s cheeks start to tingle with heat. “sorry, did you want me to check your work out?”

“why are you staring at y/n?” he asks again, tilting his head at her.

“it’s nothing, really. i was just um… daydreaming.”

“about y/n?” kids are getting clever these days, though thankfully they lack the snarkiness. “is that why you’re staring at her?”

“um, no.” um, yes. danielle is lying to a child. “i just, she’s– she happens to be in my vision. um, let’s see your artwork!”

the kid shrugs, pushing the paper over to danielle who is in awe of how well done it is. this kid isn’t just smart, he’s remarkably talented too.

now it’s your turn to look over at danielle, who’s tending to kids. you admire her for a bit, a small smile creeping up to your lips before you return to your own tasks.

—

the three of them—hanni, minji, and danielle—were huddled on the floor of minji’s room, surrounded by blankets and snacks. they’d been talking about everything and nothing for the past hour, the usual mix of gossip, random stories, and playful teasing filling the room as they have their monthly sleepover.

but as the conversation died down, danielle found her mind wandering back to the past few days—the past month—specifically to you. it had been happening more and more lately. volunteering with you at the elementary school had brought back feelings she thought she’d outgrown, but being around you so often was starting to get to her. all the walks to class were getting to her, the shared glances and grins, really just the awareness of you existing was making her think hard.

“are you okay, dani?” hanni asked, noticing the way danielle had fallen quiet, her face a little red.

minji narrowed her eyes playfully. “yeah, you’ve been acting weird all night. what’s going on?”

danielle sat up straighter, nervously picking at the hem of her oversized sweater. “um… okay, i’m probably just overthinking this, but—” she hesitated, biting her lip before blurting out, “i think i still like y/n.”

both hanni and minji exchanged looks, and then hanni grinned. “still? dani, i didn’t even know you ever stopped.”

“you never stopped,” minji added with a teasing smirk. “you’re just aware of it now because you two interact. i still remember how often you’d mention her back then when we were underclassmen. it wasn’t much, but i thought you always had eyes for her.”

“ugh.” danielle groaned, covering her face with her hands. “but like, it’s different now. we’ve been spending time together at the volunteering thing, even after that, and—” she paused, her voice softening, “she’s just so… sweet. and cute. like, even when she’s not trying, she’s just… ugh, i don’t know.”

hanni grinned, sitting up and leaning toward her. “oh my god, are you gushing?”

danielle peeked out from behind her hands, her face red. “no,” she muttered, but even she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “okay, maybe a little. yeah.”

“what’s she been doing that’s got you all flustered?” minji asked, genuinely curious now.

danielle sighed, her heart racing just thinking about it. “it’s like… little things, you know? like, she always makes sure i’m okay when we’re with the kids, and she’s so patient with them. and then there was this one time where a kid was playing with her hair, trying to style it, and she just let them do whatever they wanted without even complaining.” danielle laughed softly. “she just looked so cute and clueless, and i couldn’t stop staring. and she’s so, so sweet. she walks me to class and asks how i’m doing and we do gas station runs before or after volunteering and she’s so… crush worthy. i don’t know!”

hanni and minji exchanged knowing looks again.

“and like, we’ve barely talked since middle school, but now it’s like… i don’t know. it feels like nothing’s changed, but everything has? i just—” danielle paused, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “i’m starting to realize how much i like her again. we grew up kind of distant and it feels like there’s so much more to her that has me falling deeper than i ever had.”

minji smiled softly. “sounds like you’ve got it bad, dani.”

danielle groaned, lying back on the floor and covering her face again. “why is this happening?”

hanni laughed, poking her side. “because y/n’s cute, and you can’t handle it.”

“exactly,” minji agreed, her teasing grin in full force.

danielle sighed, letting her friends’ teasing wash over her as she tried to calm her racing heart. it was hopeless. she’d never stopped liking you, and now that you were back in her life, it was like everything was coming back all at once.

“what do i even do?” danielle muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

hanni grinned, nudging her. “easy. tell her.”

danielle blushed harder, shaking her head. “no way. i’ll just… i’ll wait.”

minji snorted. “yeah, good luck with that.”

—

that same night, you’re playing basketball with sohee at the court near your houses. sohee moved across the street from you right before high school started, and ever since that you two have been best friends. he’s someone you trust and love with your whole heart, but simultaneously a leech stuck to your side.

the night was cool, the court illuminated by the soft, dim glow of the overhead lights. you and sohee had been at it for a while, your usual one-on-one basketball game to unwind. except tonight, something was off. sohee was easily scoring on you, his movements quick and smooth while yours were sluggish and distracted. you missed shots you’d normally make without a second thought, and every time you tried to focus, your mind drifted back to danielle.

“y/n,” sohee called, catching the ball after your latest missed shot. “what is going on with you? you’re way off.”

you wiped the sweat from your brow, feeling the frustration rising. “nothing, i’m just… tired,” you muttered, but even you didn’t believe that excuse. sohee didn’t either.

he dribbled the ball lazily, walking toward you. “tired? no way. you’ve been off this whole game. i’ve scored more points in the last ten minutes than i usually do in an hour.” he nudged your shoulder with his elbow, his eyes narrowing playfully. “what’s going on?”

you hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek. it wasn’t like you to talk about stuff like this, especially with sohee, but the thoughts swirling around your head were starting to get overwhelming. you couldn’t deny it anymore.

with a sigh, you sat down on the edge of the court, sohee plopping down beside you. “it’s… danielle,” you finally admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

sohee blinked, raising an eyebrow. “danielle?” he repeated, leaning back on his hands. “okay… go on.”

you put your head in your hands, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “i don’t know. like, we’ve been hanging out more because of the volunteering stuff, and… i don’t know. i can’t stop thinking about her. like, at all. and it’s messing me up. before it was just a small, lingering crush. it’s so, so bad now.”

sohee’s expression softened, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “so you’ve been crushing on her hard, huh?”

you groaned, leaning your head back and staring up at the night sky. “yeah, i guess you could say that.” it felt like an understatement—it was an understatement. “but it’s more than that. i feel like… every time we’re together, i’m losing my mind. like, i don’t know what to do with myself. i’m always trying to act normal, but she’s so sweet and adorable and cute and i—” you stopped yourself, feeling embarrassed by how much you were rambling. “jesus, i sound like an idiot. don’t look at me—it’s bad.”

sohee chuckled, shaking his head. “honestly, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like she probably likes you too.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you shook your head. “no way. she’s just… being nice. that’s how she is.”

“nah,” sohee stood up, tossing the ball back and forth between his hands. “you don’t see it, but i’ve seen you guys together. and besides, people don’t just act like that for no reason. the way you described her, she’s gotta be into you.”

you raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “you think?”

sohee shrugged. “i mean, you won’t know until you ask her. but from where i’m standing, she’s been giving you all the signs. you are the only one who doesn’t catch her smiling at you, even looking at you. she has to be losing it just as much.”

you sat there for a moment, letting his words sink in. maybe he was right. maybe danielle did like you, but it was hard to believe, especially when you felt so off balance around her. still, the idea of it made your heart race in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“you’re overthinking it,” sohee said, tossing the ball to you. “just… be yourself. she clearly likes who you are, whether you realize it or not.”

you caught the ball, your grip tightening around it as you glanced at him. “and if you’re wrong?”

he laughed, shrugging. “then you’ll live, you always make it. but honestly, i don’t think i am.”

you exhaled slowly, standing up and bouncing the ball a couple of times. “yeah, maybe.”

sohee grinned, motioning for you to start the game again. “come on, let’s finish this. i’m not letting you off easy just because you want marsh.”

you laughed, feeling a little lighter as you dribbled the ball and faced him. “i’m gonna beat your ass—maybe stick to swimming.”

—

the next time you and danielle volunteer at the elementary school, the kids are in full creative mode, diving headfirst into arts and crafts. you watch as their tiny hands work with paper, markers, and glue sticks, their faces lit up with excitement. you and danielle sit side by side at a low table, helping them cut shapes and fold paper, but soon enough, the kids start getting ideas of their own.

"we’re gonna make you guys princesses!" one of the little girls announces with a grin, holding up some colored paper.

"yeah, princesses need crowns," another chimes in, already working on what looks like a very lopsided paper tiara.

danielle laughs softly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "oh, wow. we’re honored, huh?" she says, glancing at you, her smile wide but a little flustered.

you nod, trying to play it cool even though the idea of you both as ‘princesses’ is making your head spin. "i guess we’re royalty for the day."

soon enough, you and danielle each have paper crowns placed carefully on your heads, the kids squealing in delight at their creations. you catch a glimpse of danielle out of the corner of your eye, and even though the crown is crooked and made of construction paper, she looks... perfect. she always does. she looks even better than any princess from the movies.

"okay, now you need to get married!" one of the boys shouts, bouncing on his feet as he holds out paper rings he made from scraps of old coloring sheets.

both you and danielle freeze for a second, the word ‘married’ hanging in the air like it’s some forbidden territory. you and danielle: married. but the kids don’t give you much time to process because suddenly, two of them grab your hands, pulling you up from your seats.

"come on! princesses have to get married!" they insist, giggling wildly.

danielle glances at you, her eyes wide, but she’s smiling, clearly trying to suppress how flustered she is. "uh, i guess we don’t really have a choice here," she says softly, her voice slightly shaky but still playful.

"nope, none at all," you respond, trying to sound as casual as possible, even though your heart is practically beating out of your chest. you reach out and take the paper ring they offer, pretending it’s all part of the fun as you slip it onto danielle’s finger. “but i don’t mind you as the princess.” you whisper.

danielle’s cheeks flush as she does the same, her fingers lightly brushing against yours as she slides the paper ring onto your hand. for a second, the whole room seems to blur, and it’s just the two of you standing there, awkwardly exchanging paper rings with a bunch of kids cheering you on.

"you may now... be married!" one of the kids declares, causing an eruption of giggles all around you.

you and danielle exchange a quick look, both of you clearly trying not to burst into laughter, but also kind of… lost in the moment. her smile is soft and shy, and you can’t help but feel the warmth spreading through your chest like always.

"well, that was... something," danielle murmurs, her voice quieter as she glances down at the ring now wrapped around your finger.

"yeah," you manage to say, your own voice barely steady. "guess we’re officially paper royalty now."

“i suppose so ‘your highness.’”

both of you laugh, but it’s the kind of laughter that lingers—nervous, sweet, and a little unsure of what it all means. you sit back down, the kids going off to make more crafts, but the paper rings stay on your fingers. neither of you make a move to take them off, both pretending like everything is fine, even though the butterflies in your stomach are telling you otherwise.

—

it was a typical friday after swim practice. you were tired but in a good mood, feeling the pleasant ache in your muscles as you pulled your hoodie over your head and adjusted your sweatpants. as you walked out of the locker room, your hair still damp, you see danielle waiting outside, leaning against the wall with her phone in her hand.

she looked up when you stepped out, and the smile that spread across her face was like a breath of fresh air. “hey,” she greeted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

you smiled back. “hey. waiting for hyein?” it was your automatic assumption since danielle usually hung out with her after school, and you were trying to play it cool, despite the sudden spike in your pulse.

danielle shook her head, biting her lip as if she was a little nervous. “no, actually. i was wondering… if you wanted to grab a bite with me? i mean, if you're free? if you’re going to grab dinner with sohee and wonbin though—i understand.”

for a second, you just stared at her, completely thrown off. danielle marsh, standing there, casually asking you to hang out. it felt surreal. she was looking at you expectantly, her eyes bright and hopeful, and it took everything in you to not freeze up completely.

“just us?”

“who else would be coming? i wanted to… spend time with you.” danielle fidgets with her fingers.

“uh, yeah, sure!” you finally managed to respond, hoping you didn’t sound too eager, but internally you were freaking out.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted sohee and wonbin leaning against the vending machine nearby, watching the whole thing unfold. sohee gave you a sly smirk, while wonbin raised his eyebrows in playful encouragement, clearly trying to get you to go along with it. they didn’t say a word, but their teasing looks were enough.

you ignored them, focusing back on danielle, who was smiling wider now that you’d agreed. “great!” she said, looking genuinely happy. “there’s this place nearby that makes really good sandwiches. hyein loves to eat there after practice.”

“sounds perfect,” you replied, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face as the two of you made your way toward the parking lot.

as you walked side by side, you couldn't help but sneak glances at her, wondering how the universe had aligned for this to happen. danielle, who had been so distant for years, was suddenly in your life again, and now you were about to grab sandwiches together.

you reached your car, and as danielle slid into the passenger seat, you tried to act normal. after all, this ins’t the first time danielle has been in your car. she clicked her seatbelt and looked over at you with a soft expression, and for a moment, everything felt easy.

you turned on the engine, glancing at her with a smile of your own. “let’s go get those sandwiches.”

—

you noticed one of the kids, a little boy named max, slumped over at his desk, his tiny hand still clutching a crayon while his head rested on his arm. he was fast asleep, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to him. you smiled to yourself, gently lifting the crayon from his hand and setting it down before carefully scooping him up in your arms.

max stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small body curling into you instinctively. you carried him across the room, making sure your steps were light and quiet, and set him down gently on a blanket in the corner. once you made sure he was comfortable, you knelt beside him, adjusting the blanket around him so he wouldn’t get cold.

as you stood up, brushing off your hands, you felt a pair of eyes on you. turning around, you caught danielle watching the whole scene, her gaze soft and warm. before you could say anything, she spoke, her voice quiet but filled with admiration.

"you're really sweet, you know that?" she said, almost like the words slipped out without her meaning to.

your face heated up instantly, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to play it off. "thank you," you mumbled, avoiding her gaze because the way she was looking at you made your heart race even more.

but danielle wasn’t letting it go that easily. she smiled at you, that same smile that always made your insides twist in the best way. "no, i mean it. you’re just... really good with them. it’s nice to see. you’re so sweet and so like, cute. sorry."

you blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. "uh, thanks. i just... i don’t know." you tried to brush it off again, but you could feel her eyes still on you, and it made you flustered beyond words.

danielle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks a little pink now too. she quickly looked away, biting her lip like she couldn’t believe she’d just said that, and you swore you saw the smallest hint of nervousness in her expression.

you both stood there for a second in the quiet classroom, neither of you sure what to say next. but something unspoken passed between you, something warm and sweet, and even though neither of you acknowledged it out loud, it hung in the air like a gentle breeze.

maybe she didn’t just see you as a friend after all.

—

after leaving the elementary school, you and danielle decided to grab some smoothies, neither of you really wanting the day to end just yet. after picking up your drinks, you drove to a nearby park, parking in a spot that had a perfect view of the sunset. the sky was painted with soft pinks and oranges, fading into a deep blue as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

sitting side by side in the car, both of you sipped on your smoothies, the air between you comfortable yet charged with something unspoken. danielle was flipping through her phone, looking for something to watch, and eventually settled on a short movie you both had heard about. you propped your phone up on the dashboard, the two of you leaning back in your seats, the glow from the screen illuminating your faces.

the movie played on, but your mind wasn’t completely on it. not really. it was hard to focus when danielle was sitting so close, her laugh quiet but making your heart race every time. you could feel the warmth of her next to you, and each little shift she made only reminded you of how much you liked her.

as the movie reached its peak, the two characters on screen began to confess their feelings for each other. it was a sweet, heartwarming moment, and as you watched, you couldn’t help but feel the growing urge to say something. the way they looked at each other, the vulnerability, the raw emotion—everything felt so familiar.

you glanced over at danielle, who was also watching the scene intently. her hand rested on her lap, fingers lightly tapping to some rhythm only she could hear. your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth to speak, but then—

“i like you.”

the words tumbled out at the exact same time. both of you froze, eyes wide as you turned to face each other. danielle’s hand smacks over her mouth at the same tiem as you. for a second, it was like the world had stopped, the air between you electric, charged with a mix of surprise and relief.

danielle’s eyes blinked in shock, and then she laughed softly, her cheeks turning pink as she ducked her head slightly. "what? you, you like me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, feeling equally flustered but relieved. you turn toward your wheel and put your hands over your face as you lean against it. “yeah,” you mumble against your skin.

there was a beat of silence, the tension dissolving into something lighter, something sweet. you both smiled at each other, the nervousness fading as the reality of the moment settled in.

"i thought it was just me," she admitted shyly.

"same," you replied, grinning despite the butterflies in your stomach. "but... i'm glad i wasn’t." you lean back in your seat, unable to look at her.

danielle let out a little laugh, and for a moment, everything felt right. you weren’t just friends anymore, not after this. and as the last light of the sunset faded, the two of you sat there in the quiet of the car, your hands slowly finding each other in the space between you. it felt like something had shifted—something you’d both been waiting for.

she looks at you, her eyes still wide, her smile soft but curious. "how long?" she asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. the question hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of it.

you swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your face. "uh... since middle school," you admitted, glancing down at your hands nervously. "it was after we finished the fitness testing... remember? you put a flower in my hair while i was sweaty and tired and gross."

danielle’s eyes lit up with recognition, a soft giggle escaping her lips. "wait, really? you liked me then?" she asked, her smile growing as she leaned in a little closer, clearly caught up in the moment.

"yeah," you nodded, feeling the giddiness rise in your chest. "i remember being so embarrassed because i thought i looked terrible, but you just smiled at me like... like it didn’t matter."

danielle blushed deeply, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggled. "oh my god, i didn’t know! and now i feel even worse because... i’ve liked you since middle school too."

your heart nearly stopped at her words, your eyes widening in surprise. "wait, what? since when?"

"remember that science project we did together?" danielle asked, her cheeks still flushed. "you finished most of it because i was sick for half the week... and you didn’t complain once. you just did it and made sure i didn’t feel bad about it. you even emailed me to drink water and take care of myself. how could i not like you."

“oh"

"yeah," danielle smiled, a little shy now. "i think that’s when i realized you were really special."

both of you were blushing now, giggling nervously in between your confessions, like you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. it was surreal, this moment you’d both been unknowingly waiting for since you were kids. and now here you were, sitting in your car, finally on the same page after all these years.

"i can’t believe we’ve both been... waiting this long," you said, still grinning like an idiot. you smack your forehead with your palm.

"me neither," danielle agreed, her voice soft as her gaze lingered on yours. her smile grew, her eyes sparkling with that familiar light you’d always admired. "but i’m really glad we know now."

"yeah," you whispered, feeling your heart swell as you looked at her. "me too."

silence settled between you two after the giddy confessions, but it wasn’t awkward. it felt... comfortable. like a new kind of peace, where everything was finally out in the open. danielle fiddled with her smoothie cup, glancing at you every now and then with a soft smile, while you kept sneaking looks at her as you drove, your heart doing little flips each time you caught her eyes.

the drive to her house felt shorter than usual, and before you knew it, you were pulling up in front of her place. you turned the engine off, the soft hum of the car dying down as you both sat in the lingering quiet. you wanted to say something, anything to keep her here just a little longer, but your mind was blank—except for the thought of how much you didn’t want this moment to end.

danielle turned to you, her eyes warm and sparkling under the dim glow of the streetlight. "thanks for today," she said quietly, her voice gentle, but there was something more behind it, something unspoken that hung between you.

you felt your heart race again. "no problem, anytime."

danielle looks like she wants to say something. she looks at you with an uncertain expression, biting her lip to hold back something.

“i want to kiss you so bad right now danielle.” you admit quickly, almost out of breath. “you look so cute right now i kind of want to get run over because of how adorable you look. like, oh my god.”

“no, yeah, i feel the same. can we— can i kiss you? oh my god, i’ve never done this before.”

you giggle, “me neither.”

there was a brief pause, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in—just slightly. it was almost instinctual, like the air between you both had been pulling you closer this entire time. danielle noticed, her breath hitching softly as her eyes flickered to your lips, and in the next heartbeat, she closed the distance.

the kiss was soft, tentative—both of you so nervous, yet so eager. her lips were warm and gentle against yours. danielle’s hand slid into your hair, ruffling it up a bit more and sending shivers down your spine. you couldn’t help but melt into her touch. your own hands trembled as you cupped her cheek, everything feeling new and exciting, yet strangely right.

when you finally pulled apart, both of you were blushing so hard, it was almost embarrassing. you could barely look at each other without grinning like idiots, your hearts pounding in unison. danielle let out a soft laugh, her cheeks bright pink as she quickly glanced at the door.

"um... i’ll—i’ll see you tomorrow?" she stammered, clearly flustered, but there was a giddy, breathless smile on her face that made your own heart stutter.

"yeah, tomorrow," you managed to say, your voice shaky from the rush of emotions. you were still trying to process what had just happened, your lips tingling from the kiss as you watched her open the door to leave. “one more?”

danielle laughs, then gives you a brief kiss before pulling away and avoiding your gaze from nervousness.

she waves a quick goodbye before disappearing into her house, but not without one last smile that made your heart swell all over again. you sat there for a moment longer, your face burning as you replayed everything in your head. the kiss, the confession, her soft touch—it all felt like a dream, one you were still floating in.

and for a moment, all the nerves, all the unspoken feelings—everything just melted away, leaving behind a feel of tranquility between you both. you weren’t just two people holding onto a crush anymore. you were finally something more, and it felt like everything had just fallen perfectly into place.

#kpop x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #danielle newjeans #danielle marsh #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye #mo jihye x reader

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no-144444 · 27 days ago

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the grid: wedding shenanigans

Day 14 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

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Oscar Piastri: driving off into the sunset (literally)

The entire day was so special, it was a small service with just family and friends where you’d flown everyone out to their beach house. It was beautiful, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and you were getting married. You looked stunning in your dress, and everyone cried as you came down the aisle, but no one more than Oscar. He looked at you with all the love and affection in the world and as you finally reached the top of the aisle, pressed a small kiss to your cheek whispering an ‘i love you’ much to the dismay of your officiant.

The day went on with lunch, some pictures, and finally the dancing, and as the sun set, you grabbed your suitcases and grabbed the keys to his pickup, driving off into the sunset for your honeymoon in the Outback, southern Australia, and then onto New Zealand.

He glanced over at you as he drove, the setting sun giving you a special glow as you looked at the ring on your finger. He slowly pulled over to the side of the road, wanting to gaze up at the stars that were just beginning to show. You two sat in the back of the pickup with a blanket over the top of you. You cuddled into his side and smiled.

“How does it feel, Mrs. Piastri?” he whispered, staring up at the stars.

You beamed. “It feels fucking amazing to be your wife,” you pressed a kiss to the arm he had wrapped around your shoulders. “How does it feel for you?”

He groaned, a bright smile on his face. “Like everything I’ve ever wanted has come true,” he almost cringed at himself, knowing how corny he sounds.

But you just nodded and smiled, perfectly contempt.

You two really were made for each other. Oscar stared up at the sky as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, before he started driving again after lying you down in the passenger seat, he thanked his lucky stars for giving him you.

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Lando Norris: sneaking off in the middle of the party

You felt the adrenaline rush through you as he led you down yet another long corridor. He was giggling the whole way, as were you, his hand held tightly around yours. The day had been wonderful, you’d gotten married in Sibton Park Estate, a beautiful country house with all the charm of a castle. You felt like a princess as you walked down the aisle, smiling brightly at Lando, who shed a tear or two, but mostly smiled and laughed out of nervousness. He had to stop his vows twice because he started laughing, and once because he started crying. Your vows made him bawl, having to give him a few minutes break before continuing. But god, had it been a tiring day. All day you were on your feet, away from your husband talking to guest after guest, seeing him on the dance floor for your first dance, then immediately being pulled away. It was jarring, even Max commented on it, saying. “You two are usually so all over each other, today I’ve barely seen you two interact outside of genuinely saying your vows!”

Safe to say you missed each other.

Somehow, he pushed a door open that brought you to a drawing room that overlooked the entire outdoor party and you smiled as you watched your friends and family let loose. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

“I can’t believe you’re my wife,” he grinned like a schoolboy. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”

You chuckled. “I love you so much,” you sighed. “Today was perfect.”

He nodded. “So perfect. Best day of my life.”

“Not your first win?”

He pulled his ‘sassy face’, as you called it. “Fuck no. This is the best day of my life, hands down.”

You looked at him sceptically. “I wouldn’t be offended-” “My word, I got to marry the most caring, lovely, kind, smart, incredible, stunning, gorgeous, loyal, gentle, hilarious, most wonderful woman in the world and call her my wife. She’s wearing my ring on her finger, she’s kissing my lips, and she’s sleeping in my bed. You are the most important thing in my life, and I will die on that hill, alright?”

You chuckled. “Alright,” you turned around and kissed him, softer than you did when you’d been pronounced as married.

“I fucking adore you,” he whispered.

Perfect moment on a perfect day.

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Lewis Hamilton: anxiety before the ceremony

You paced back and forth in your dressing room, internally freaking out. You knew you loved Lewis, more than anything you loved Lewis. Though today was just proving… terrifying. Everyone’s eyes on you, everyone talking to you, everyone trying to be around you. Hellish experience, and it was only 1pm.

There was a knock at the door. “Baby?” It was Lewis’s voice, and everything felt ok again for a split second, then he started to try and open the door. You flung yourself against it with a thud and he chuckled. “Are we really believing in the superstitions?”

“Yes!” you stressed. “Why are you here?” “Because someone told me my soon-to-be wife is freaking out a little bit.”

You could hear the smile on his lips. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m freaking out too,” he whispered. "It's ok."

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank fuck,” you chuckled feeling the tension in your shoulders lessen. He poked his hand through the cracked door which you took and squeezed.

“Look baby, we’ve got this. Today is scary and nerve wracking, but it’s alright. I’ll be beside you all day, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok.”

Maybe you could do this. Lewis would be there, standing at the end of that aisle with his regular goofy smile and big heart. Lewis would be standing beside you all day. Lewis loved you.

“Ok,” you breathed out again.

“I’ll see you on the altar then?” he smiled.

“I’ll be the one wearing white,” you smiled.

All that anxiety was replaced by excitement.

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George Russell: quiet morning after the wedding

You laid in bed beside him, utterly spent from the day. It started at 9am and went until about 3am, then those 2 extra hours of ‘newly-wedded activities’ made you sleep in until about 12pm. You woke up with George’s arms around you, the sunlight coming in from the gorgeous day outside. The sun was shining in Greece, and you were extremely excited to have George to yourself for 3 whole weeks of good food, good wine, good sex, and him being your husband.

“Morning,” he groaned, burying his head further into his pillow. “I think Benjy got alcohol poisoning last night.”

“Morning sunshine,” you teased. “Also, I don’t think your brother drank that much last night, but I’ll shoot him a text anyway.”

“We should probably get up,” he huffed, you chuckled.

“We could,” you nodded, climbing on top of him and pulling his head away from the pillow. “Or, we could just stay here all day and only resurface for water and food?”

He smirked. “Insatiable much?”

“Sorry, I just have a really sexy husband,” you smirked, flashing your ring. He groaned and pulled you in for yet another kiss.

You didn’t leave the bed for a good while.

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Alex Albon: nothing goes right

You had planned the most beautiful wedding, you’d spent months refining everything, making sure it would be perfect, mostly because you knew it had to be, or else you’d be judged. Your parents would judge you, your family would judge you, the world would judge you.

But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t control the weather. You had planned the perfect beach wedding, flew everyone out, spent the last 3 days making sure everyone was comfortable, and when you woke up, you woke up to pissing rain and your caterers cancelling. Being the over-thinker you are, you already had another catering place on speed dial, and you sorted out any other problem that came your way. You moved the weeking to an indoor venue, you dealt with all of your guests' complaints, you listened to the moanings and bitchings of your judgemental mother, all while getting ready for your special day.

It pissed rain as Alex stood at the end of the aisle, soaking wet in the humid Thai rain, but smiling all the same. That’s when you realised that was all that mattered. You and Alex.

"You look beautiful," he whispered when you finally reached the end of the aisle.

You smiled. "Beautiful drenched?"

"Beautiful always."

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Daniel Riccardo: his vows You stood at the top of the altar, the months and months of planning came down to this moment. Daniel, his bright smile, standing there in front of you. Shit, he was beautiful.

You’d already said your vows, he smiled his way through them while you cried, and now it was his turn.

He looked down at the little book in his hands and took a long shaky breath. “I love you,” he smiled. “More than anything in this entire world, I love you. I love how deeply and truly you care about things, I love your humour, I love your smile, I love your ability to somehow rail me in,” the crowd laughed at that as you wiped tears from your eyes. “I love the way you always wave at kids passing by, I love the way you support and encourage the people around you, I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh,” he looked up to see you laughing, and somehow, his grin got wider. “Like you’re doing now. I love coming home to you, I love waking up with you beside me, I love my life, because you’re in it. You’ve stayed with me through some of my darkest times, and loved me the same as you do through my brightest. From our first date to our dying day, I’ve loved you, and I’ll continue to love you. I never thought I’d believe in Divine intervention, but something tells me that you were meant to find me in this lifetime, and all the ones before it, and after. You make me better, you challenge me in the best ways, you make me laugh and cry, you make me calm and comfortable. You make me fucking happy. I never knew I’d find someone as incredible and wonderful as you, but trust me when I say I’ll never let you go. You’re my person, baby, and you’re all I need.”

Did he have to be so perfect?

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Charles LeClerc: the engagement Charles sat in the restaurant, his mind far away from you in front of him. He had to somehow make you want to go down to the beach, somehow make you -

“Charles I know you’re breaking up with me tonight so just get it over with, alright?” You sighed. It had been months of him being distant and awkward. Months of him being absent even when he was right in front of you, months of him being secretive and guarded. You were done.

It sucked because you loved him, but he didn’t love you anymore, at least, that’s what you thought.

He looked at you horrified. He snapped out of his shock and stared at you. “What?”

“Please just get it over with Charles, I get it you don’t-“

“No! No! You don’t get ‘it’, please just hear me out?” He was clearly causing a scene, but he didn’t seem to care. If it was between not losing you and not making a scene, he was choosing to make a scene every single time.

“Charles!” You scolded. “Keep your voice down!”

He nodded. “Just… wait until after dinner, alright? Please?”

You scoffed. “You seriously care that little about my time? Charles, stop stringing me along! It’s been a year and a half of wasted time now.”

“Wasted?” He questioned.

“You don’t love me anymore, it’s fine! I get it. Just… let me leave with a piece of my dignity still intact, alright?”

“Please my love, just wait until after dinner,” he asked, checking his watch.

“Fuck you Charles,” you sighed, getting up to leave.

It was now or never.

“Marry me!” He exclaimed as the restaurant went quiet. You turned back to face him with a shocked expression. He was down on one knee with the most beautiful ring in a little red box in his hands.

“Charles…?”

“Please let me speak. I know I have been distant lately, but I just knew I would end up spoiling the surprise. You know how bad I am at lying, especially to you. I’m sorry, my love, please don’t walk out on us like this. I love you. More than anything, I love you. I want to be with you forever.”

You nodded silently, tears flowing as you stood there, shocked. You thought this was a break-up dinner, but really, it was the start of the rest of your lives.

Did you just do a reverse Elle Woods?

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Max Verstappen: family drama at the wedding

Of course, knowing Jos, you knew there would be drama at the wedding. It was inevitable. Your father hated Jos and your family hated him too. They couldn’t understand why Max’s father could be such a monster to such a sweet man. To be honest, you didn’t understand either. Max was the most caring and gentle man you’d ever known, and you honestly didn’t understand how he’d become the man he was with the absolute asshole of a father he had.

“I’m sorry,” Max whispered in your ear as you both changed for the ceremony. Jos had started a fight with your dad about walking you down the aisle that had set the whole ceremony back by about 40 minutes. Max was so embarrassed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You just smiled, ever the understanding saint, in his eyes. “Max, do you think I give a shit about how we get married?”

He nodded.

“I don’t. It could’ve been in a factory, a pig stye, a fucking metal concert, I don’t care. Tonight, when we go to bed and wake up tomorrow, we will wake up as husband and wife. That’s what I care about. I care that I’m your wife, and you’re my husband. I care about you.” He teared up. “You’re sure?”

“About you?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Max would always have you, you'd always have him. That was the important thing.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

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hoshifighting · 28 days ago

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joshua + fake saints

— it’s funny, really, standing here in this pristine church, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows, feeling the weight of judgment from everyone around you—but none of them actually have a clue. they don’t know a damn thing about what you and joshua were really up to last night.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, can be sensitve content because of: church setting, a kind of joke about joshua knowing where the clit is, fingering, oral (f. receiving), joshua and reader are naaaaastyy, fucking on the kitchen, basement, supply closet, etc.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“oh, honey, you look so lovely today,” joshua’s mom smiles at you, her voice warm and sweet, like she’s completely unaware of how you’re standing there with a hickey hidden under the stiff collar of your white button-up shirt. you try not to shift too much, praying she doesn’t notice how the purple bruise is just barely covered.

joshua’s beside you, all innocent smiles and nods, hands clasped in front of him like he’s a damn saint. but you know better. that same boy who leads saturday morning service is the same one who had you bent over a desk last night, splitting you in half like it was his mission from god himself.

“thank you, mrs. hong,” you manage, keeping your voice steady as you shift a little, feeling joshua’s eyes burning into the side of your neck. he knows what he did. he knows exactly where he marked you. it’s almost like he’s proud of it, the little shit. his gaze flicks over the small part of the bruise that’s peeking out, and you swear there’s the slightest smirk playing on his lips.

you nudge him with your elbow, and he coughs, clearly trying to look anywhere but directly at it. his mom’s still talking about something, but neither of you are paying attention anymore.

“it’s always such a pleasure to have you two leading the service,” she says, as she adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

“oh, thank you, mrs. hong. we love doing it. by the way, what time should we get here next week?” you ask, mostly to save the conversation.

mrs. hong smiles wider. “oh, just the usual, dear. around 8 a.m. should be fine.”

the church hall’s still buzzing with people, everyone saying their goodbyes, chatting about the upcoming scavenger hunt, totally oblivious to what you and joshua were doing just last night.

you two were supposed to be working on the paper flags for the event, all innocent, making cute decorations, maybe holding hands or whatever—but nope. one thing led to another, and next thing you know, you’re naked on that old wooden desk in the church basement, your knees pressed into splinters and your mind completely wiped clean from anything about flags.

he had you bent over, his cock buried so deep inside you, you couldn’t even think straight. fuck, the way he moved… all controlled, pulling your hair back just enough to make you arch your back for him. like some kind of secret expert, the good church boy knew exactly where your clit was, his fingers circling it until you couldn’t even hold back the moans anymore.

“never would've guessed you’d know where that is,” you’d gasped between heavy breaths.

and his answer? he just gave you that sweet, innocent smile of his, like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t fucking you raw in the church basement. “what, you think i don’t know how to treat you right?”

yeah, that same boy, the one giving your back a little squeeze right now as he nods along with his mom’s talk about tomorrow’s sermon, all calm and collected like he didn’t have you falling apart underneath him less than twenty-four hours ago.

“anyway, y/n, i’ll see you two,” his mom says, finally turning away, leaving you and joshua standing there.

as soon as she’s out of earshot, you feel him lean in, his lips brushing just below your ear, voice low enough only for you to hear. “still sore, baby?”

you swallow hard, cheeks flushing. “shut up.”

it’s fucking hilarious, really, when you think about it. you and joshua, of all people, thought you’d be the kind of couple that’d settle for shy, soft kisses and holding hands under the table. just sweet, church-going, practically angelic—you thought that’d be your thing.

but nah, that version of you died the first time he kissed you like he meant it. like, really kissed you. tongues slipping past lips, hands gripping skin like he’d been starved for it his entire life.

you didn’t know what was hiding inside both of you until that first time he grabbed the back of your neck and tugged you closer, pressing his body into yours so tight you could feel how hard he was through his jeans. the surprise on his face was priceless when your response wasn’t some innocent gasp or a shy giggle. no, you moaned—loud, shameless—and pulled him down harder, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging him down like you wanted to devour him whole, pushing his head between your thighs so he can eat you out.

e looked up at you with those pretty eyes of his, eyes that had no business being as filthy as they were right then, and without another word, his mouth was on you.

you’re pretty sure you almost blacked out that first time he ate you out. like, how the hell was he so good at that? his tongue flicked over your clit, slow and teasing, before he got serious and sucked, moaning into you like he couldn’t get enough.

and you—you were a mess, hand buried in his hair, tugging him closer, desperate for more, always more. it was funny, honestly, how you’d both gone from “innocent” hand-holding to this. “yes, yes, yes, josh,” you gasped, feeling the way he was licking and sucking like a man on a mission.

he didn’t respond, just gripped your thighs tighter and kept going, like he was trying to make you see the paradise itself.

and then there was that other time… when you two were supposed to just watch a movie. popcorn in hand, sitting all cozy on his couch, blankets thrown over your laps like nothing was out of the ordinary. except the second the movie started, you were all over each other. like, who cared about some dumb rom-com when joshua’s hands were slipping under your shirt, fingers grazing over your bra, and he was kissing you like he was gonna die if he didn’t have you?

“fuck the movie,” he’d whispered, voice all low and rough as he pushed you back against the couch. you agreed, obviously, grabbing at his clothes while he practically tore yours off. soon enough, he had you straddling his lap, his cock hard and pressing against your stomach, and you were already soaking, grinding down on him.

he chuckled, breath hot against your neck. “you’re so nasty babe, pussy drooling on my cock, hm?”

you couldn’t help the way you pushed down harder, biting your lip as his hands slid up to your waist, helping guide your hips.

and then, somehow, you ended up against the couch cushions, his fingers teasing your entrance before sliding in, stretching you out so perfectly, it had your eyes rolling back. “yes babygirl, moan for me,” he muttered, watching you fall apart under him, and it was the hottest thing—how gentle joshua could look while doing the dirtiest things.

like when he had you bent over the kitchen counter one day, right after you two had been “prepping dinner.” you were chopping vegetables, talking about church or something, and suddenly he was behind you, pressing his hard-on against your ass, his breath hot against your neck.

“you know what i’ve been thinking about?” he’d whispered, hands slipping under your shirt, brushing against your skin.

“hmm?” you hummed, trying to stay focused, but the heat between your legs was getting worse by the second.

“you,” he breathed, one hand tapping the kitchen counter. “bent over right here.”

and before you could even respond, he had you flipped around, your hands bracing against the counter as he pulled your leggings down, his fingers sliding between your folds to find you already dripping. you’d let out a choked moan, and that was all it took for him to line up and thrust into you, filling you to the hilt.

it wasn’t long before his pace quickened, and your moans filled the kitchen, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with his grunts. the counter was digging into your stomach, but you didn’t care. all you cared about was how deep he was inside you, how good he felt, and how much you wanted more. always more.

“josh, fuck,” you gasped, barely able to keep yourself upright. “so f-fucking gooood—”

his hand slipped around to your front, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles that had you flinching. it was dirty and rough, and so fucking different from anything you thought you’d have with him. but it was everything you needed. everything you didn’t even know you both were capable of.

and then there was that time after the church picnic—when everyone else was packing up, getting ready to leave, and you two snuck off to the supply closet. you barely got the door closed before he was on you, pushing you up against the shelves, hands all over you like he couldn’t wait another second.

“this is fucking crazy,” he’d whispered against your lips, but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. his fingers were already unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down just enough to give him access. and before you knew it, his hand was between your legs, fingers moving so fast you were shaking, clinging to his shoulders like you might collapse if he stopped.

no one here knows the things you two have done, the way you’ve turned each other inside out, discovering things about yourselves that you didn’t even know existed.

it’s wild to think that it all started with those innocent touches, those shy glances. and now, you can’t even look at him without thinking about how his lips feel on your skin, how his cock feels buried inside you, the way he whispers your name when he’s cumming.

no, holding hands and superficial kisses weren’t ever going to be enough for you two. not even close.

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buckets-and-trees · 11 months ago

Text

What You Want

Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

READ THE SEQUEL: NOW THAT I SAW YOU

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eureka-its-zico · 1 year ago

Text

Chaos in Their Bones

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frienemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 5k+

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to do this, so naturally I did it anyway. This is the first chapter in a planned series with a reader insert following the events of the OPLA universe. I sincerely hope that this is a story you all love as this is my first initial time writing for one of my beloved anime. But let’s be real, after seeing Mackenyu play Zoro (my fav) I knew I was going to be whipped from the start. The reader will go by “Doc” in this story at times, and later a nickname by Zoro himself. As always, I hope you enjoy this. Much love, Jenn. Also, thank you @thegreatesttttttttt for indulging me.

The ringing of the bell thundered through the sky above. An upcoming warning of four words that would echo through the street's moments later.

“The pirates are coming!”

You could practically hear the rest of the town groan with a sigh. Their annoyance stunk up the streets as Usopp sounded the imaginary alarm as he usually did every day around this time. Maybe it was because you considered Usopp a friend that his tall tales and wild imagination didn’t bother you.

Instead, a sly smile tilted your lips as you continued to grind the seeds deep into the mortar. Mr. Edison’s gruff voice from outside your window reminded Usopp for the millionth time that he needed to stop as he sprinted past.

“What is that boy going on about?” Naan huffed.

You sent a quick glance behind your shoulder at the older woman who was currently folding the recently washed linens. All of them are used with a purpose to either staunch bloody wounds or for the simple purpose of relieving colds. Naan’s linens, like her home, were used for a multitude of healing services, with the only payment she accepted was that of the kindness of others around her.

“You already know, Naan,” you replied, your smile evident in your words. “It’s the usual afternoon reminder to stay on your toes.”

A deep chuckle came from behind you followed by the soft cough that came after.

“These toes can’t do very much standing. So, maybe tell your friend to give me a day of rest soon.”

“Usopp has done this every day for seven years. I don’t think anything anyone will ever say will make him stop.”

Even if you could get Usopp to stop, you wouldn’t be the one to make him. You weren’t sure how many people in town knew who his father was - or that he’d been a pirate. A father by suggestion, Usopp’s wild imagination could only recall small things from the stories his mother had been willing to share, and from those stories, even greater ones grew.

While everyone else may have found Usopp’s stories as an ever-present headache you knew they held a deeper meaning. They were the only thing he knew of a man he never got to know.

The sound of chair legs creaking across the floor cut you out of your thoughts. Just in time from the looks of the seed putty you’d created. A heavy thud on the boards informed you Naan grabbed her cane and the heavier shuffling of her feet that she was heading in your direction.

“What are you so intently making over here, child?”

Settling down the pestle, you reached over your workstation to grab a pot. You were going to need to fetch some water to bring everything to a bowl before you strained it into a jar.

“Water. I need to go get some water,” you murmured as you brought the pot down in front of you.

“Am I talking to myself?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Naan. Did you say something?”

This time you did dare to look at her. Her deep-set wrinkles set impossibly deeper as she regarded your work from over your shoulder.

“Oh, I only asked what you were making that was stinking up my kitchen.”

Your eyes flew open wide as you took a deep breath in. You were sure the only thing you’d put in that maybe - maybe - smelled was the slippery elm, but you hadn’t even steeped it in the water yet. Naan must have read your panic before it began to stitch your brow together. Your eyes still helplessly peeled to the job in front of you instead of the chuckling woman behind you.

“It’s fine, child. I’m just teasing you.”

All your panic rushed out in a huff of air as your body finally turned to greet her. Your eyes instantly took in the very tired look of hers.

“You should get some rest, Naan.”

The two of you knew you meant well. You would never try and make Naan feel older than she already felt, except you didn’t give a damn about her feelings when you could easily spot the sweat on her upper lip. The way her body leaned more into the cane that supported her. She batted your concern away with a swat of her free hand. As if it would be enough to make whatever fear that gripped at your heart magically disappear.

“Don’t patronize me. I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. You're wheezing with every breath now-“

“I said I’m fine. Leave me alone and start worrying about whatever it is you’re making.”

“Well, if you would stop interrupting me, maybe I could finish it!”

The irritation in your voice wasn’t hard to miss. Naan heard it too no doubt with the way her brow cocked as if begging you to repeat it.

The silence stretched uncomfortably between you. Naan wouldn’t even look at you - probably too scared to see your eyes pleading, full of worry for her to just go lay down.

Why must you always be so stubborn?

The question sat on your tongue and made your words form like molasses. You weren’t a child anymore. So, it begged the question of why you were still afraid to speak to her like an adult. It didn’t matter if what you said hurt her old feelings. Not when the thought of her not being around made your chest begin to spread wide like an aching chasm.

“You never did say what you were making.”

You pressed your tongue against your cheek while you debated if it would be worth it to try and argue with her. Of course, you were always the first one to relent and push it under the metaphorical rug.

“It’s a gift for Miss Kaya. Usopp told me her cough hadn’t changed and asked if I would make something for her.”

“Hmm,” Naan hummed in thought. “That boy is strange, but he is kind.”

“Not as strange as Kaya having an unknown illness the last few years and never seeking any aid from the town's doctor,” you grumbled.

Naan’s hand lightly clasped your shoulder in comfort - comfort you didn’t want to accept. Not only were thoughts of Naan being sick plaguing every ounce of free space in your brain but now so was Kaya. You’d only met her once when you were younger with Usopp and after her parents died that odd butler, Klahadore, kept her under strict observation.

In all the years you’d been with Naan, learning everything she could teach about healing, you’d found it odd that the staff never came to ask for help. You couldn’t recall a time when Sham or Buchi ever came down requesting any tonics or medicines from Naan, or for her to come with them to examine Kaya in the first place.

I wasn’t aware they were waitstaff and doctors.

You knew these thoughts would only dampen your mood until it turned completely sour. You just couldn’t stop the runaway train that was your thoughts from slipping back into questioning everything with the universe never giving you any new answers.

“How many times have I told you, child, we can’t make people get help. They have to seek it themselves and that- that is when the real healing begins.”

You were already bitter and that bitterness responded to Naan’s words in the form of an eye roll. One you were lucky the older woman didn’t see.

“It’s just not right.”

“Right or not, it’s not our place to go butting in.”

She stood behind you for a few more minutes waiting for a reply you didn’t give. You were done talking. Done trying to get her to understand that she was sick too and that all those years of molding words and actions to help others were what drove you to help her. To help Kaya. Only Usopp seemed to notice that something in her grand home wasn’t right.

Frustration drew tight across your chest causing your hands to seek support against the counter. For a split second, you imagined yourself splitting open and becoming two separate people. One being the doctor Naan trained you to be and the other something less controlled. Someone who was tired of listening but never being heard.

You listened as Naan began to retreat back to her table where the rest of the linens waited to be folded. You listened as another terrible cough violently shook itself free from her lungs as you focused on your work.

If you couldn’t help Naan you were just going to settle for helping Miss Kaya. Once you finished making Usopp’s requested medicine you were going to be sure he delivered it to her.

It was time a doctor paid a visit.

————

The shipyard.

Of course, Usopp was going to be here. Why you hadn't thought to come here first felt like a mystery all on its own.

In all the years you’d known him, Usopp’s routine hardly ever changed. He usually performed his usual pirate ritual just before he started his day in the shipyard. He was hired to care for and clean all of the ships housed within, however, and upon no real surprise to you, Usopp cleaned and polished the Going Merry daily.

So, it didn’t surprise you to find him already on the ship. What did surprise you were the three people standing with him steps away from the Going Merry, herself.

You didn’t feel alarmed in any way. Usopp was good with people - he enjoyed talking to anyone willing to listen. The man with the straw hat, who was grinning wildly in the direction of Usopp and then to his friends, seemed happy to listen. He was giving Usopp his full attention and whatever your friend was saying was exactly what Straw Hat wanted to hear.

The other two people beside him, however, didn’t seem to share in the excitement. Sure, the pretty woman with the orange hair was giving all the perfect signaling queues of a smile and nod to make it believable that she was interested in anything Usopp had to say. Did she probably care about whatever was being said? Probably not, but at least she didn’t look as sour as the moss-hair-colored guy-

Holy shit

Your feet stopped working. Your knees seemed to refuse to bend, to make any movement forward for the last few feet to close the distance to the group. For what reason? There had to be a perfectly good reason-

Nope. Thoughts gone. Head empty.

That was the best way to describe what was currently happening as your eyes stayed glued to the three-sword-wielding swordsman standing next to the woman.

Three swords? You wondered. Where does the other one go?

Maybe you would ask him if you ever summed up the courage to do just that. If you could just get your legs to function again.

In all the time you’d lived on Shell Island you were more than positive you’d never seen someone that looked close to him. Especially someone carrying around three swords or standing with so much purpose. Even as your eyes took him in you could tell he was pretending to be relaxed, but after years of mending bodies, you noticed the tightness between his shoulder blades. The ease he tried to display with a hand resting on the hilt of the sword wasn’t actually resting. Even relaxed, this man was ready to unsheathe those blades and use them at a moment's notice.

While the idea made you consider him a great swordsman, your heart also ached at the thought of feeling trapped and weary of others' intentions.

Your thoughts would’ve continued to run wild as you embarrassingly gawked at this stranger and his friends. All of that was ruined, however, when Usopp caught a glimpse of you between orange and green hair.

“Doc!”

Usopp’s excitement translated to a crazy arm wave and immediately caused all three of his newfound friends to face you. God, this meant you had to get your legs working. You had to physically move closer. You could do that. No problem.

Taking in a deep breath, you allowed a genuine smile to raise your lips in welcome. Luckily, your feet didn’t betray you as you moved the last few feet. You made a mental note as you got closer that the straw hat was meeting your smile with his own, while the other two regarded you with lackluster enthusiasm.

Great. They were the grumpy types of people.

“There you are Usopp,” you began cheerfully. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“You know, Usopp?” Asked straw hat.

You felt your brow crease in question as your smile wilted at the corners.

“I would hope so. We’ve known each other since we’ve lived here.”

“Impressive,” mumbled the woman.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t as friendly as you originally thought, but she was still definitely friendlier than moss hair. Who currently felt like he was drilling holes into your chest.

“Ugh, Doc I was just going to take these guys to visit, Kaya,” Usopp interjected.

He was still smiling - always smiling. His eyes darted to the three new faces before landing back at you.

“Why would you take them to see, Kaya?”

“She owns the shipyard and we-“Straw hat interjected, “Are in need of a ship. That beautiful ship behind us, to be exact.”

You glanced behind him to the Going Merry. Kaya’s family ship.

You shot Usopp a questioning glance that you weren’t surprised to see him ignore. He was up to something there was no doubting that. The issue was you weren’t sure what angle he was trying to play.

“Good luck with that.”

You did mean it. You didn’t think he was going to get it no matter how good-natured he seemed. That was still a family memory you weren’t sure Kaya would be willing to part with.

“Thanks!”

“Doc, before I take them over there do you by chance have what I asked for?”

You patted your satchel for good measure before you replied, “That’s why I was looking for you. I have it right here.”

Usopp took a step towards you, his hand outstretched in waiting for you to deposit the bottle. When you didn’t comply with his request he shot you a look of worry.

“You do have it right?”

“Yes, Usopp I told you I did. I just want to come with you to check on her myself.”

A look of worry dimmed the mirth in his eyes for one second. If you didn’t know what to look for you would have missed it entirely. You knew he’d been asking you for months to sneak in with him to visit Kaya. His own suspicions began to outweigh the doubt that plagued his heart with every heavy decision that needed to be made.

Deep down, Usopp knew if you were finally going to answer his request of sneaking in with him, it must be serious. A concept Usopp himself purposely tried to run from often.

“Wait, you’re a doctor? That is so cool!”

You needed to learn Straw Hat’s name because he was growing on you fast.

“I’m no-“

“She’s actually one of the best doctors in the whole East Blue,” Usopp beamed. “She’s cured this small village of at least two possible plague outbreaks twice already.”

You were willing to bet your eyes were the size of saucers. There was no way any of them would believe that kind of nonsense. There was absolutely no way-

“Wow, now that is really impressive! Sounds just like somebody who should be a part of my crew-“

“No!”

“We are not a crew!”

The absolute verbal whiplash you just experienced left your head reeling to pick up on every conversation. Straw Hat was practically turning into pure sunshine in front of you, while the other two were glaring like you’d sprouted three heads.

Geez, what a tough crowd.

“Ok, wait what?”

“It’s nothing he doesn’t mean anything by it,” the woman replied, a tight smile thinning out her lips.

“We don’t need someone pretending to play medicine woman to join us.”

Your eyes narrowed in on the now green-haired monster. He met your cold glance with his own. Whoever - whatever - he experienced in his life meant he didn’t find you the least bit threatening. He regarded you like an annoyance and you found yourself wondering why the universe made all the grumpy ones the most attractive.

If his lips pouted any harder he was going to have to rent a kissing booth.

“For your information, I’m not a pretend doctor.”

Whatever he was going to reply with was cut off by Straw hat who quickly pointed at himself. “I’m Luffy, and these are my companions Nami and Zoro.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Luffy,” you beamed letting them know your name in response. “But most people just refer to me as Doc because of Usopp.”

Nami clapped her hands together to bring you both back to the matter at hand. Kaya’s medicine. Their boat.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, can we get going? We really should stop by and pay her a visit.”

“Oh yeah! Come on guys, I can show you the fastest way there.”

Usopp tossed down his rag and skipped backward to the crate where his own satchel sat.

“Great! If you guys will kindly follow me this way I can show you something really awesome.”

You wanted to smack some sense into him. Usopp always wanted to be liked - for people to spend time with him and enjoy it. Besides Kaya and you who humored him with his opulent imagination and ability to spin fables like cotton candy. These people, Luffy excluded, did not deserve his endearing desire for friendship. They were both giving off major chip on their shoulder vibes and you vowed to become an even bigger pain in the ass if they were unnecessarily rude to him.

They didn’t wait to know if you were joining them or even behind them. They all moved forward to follow Usopp, who was spit-firing a conversation at Luffy who easily seemed to match it with his own charisma. Nami and Zoro trudged behind them both and you brought up the rear.

You’d hoped at some point Luffy or Usopp would drag you into the conversation. Anything that would keep your wandering eyes from constantly burrowing holes between Zoro’s sculpted shoulders. If you didn’t locate some form of self-control soon, you were positive your brain would be sent spinning into a tangent about how martial arts training with weapons was a godsend. So, looking at your feet for the next few miles would have to suffice.

It was strange how the world between poverty and the rich was such an overwhelming force. The farther you ventured out past the town and into the privacy of the landscape that kept Kaya’s family home hidden, it was a wonder that anyone would know it was there.

There were endless strawberry fields that farmers planted on one side and potatoes on the other. Dozens of workers tended to their growth with their hard work and sweat until a wall of bamboo cut off any view. All you could see was an endless path swallowed in bamboo branches making the path more foreboding than you thought necessary.

When you finally came in through the front gates, their iron and mortar was a welcomed sight. The one thing that wasn’t was that stupid Well you’d grown to hate ever since you almost fell in looking over the side as a child.

“I’ve never seen a house this big before.”

Luffy’s admission sent your eyes up from your feet to the large garden entrance. And that damned well that sat like a mockery in the middle of the walkway to the front.

“It’s impressive, right? Kaya’s given me an open invitation to stop by anytime I want.”

Your eyes darted over to Usopp who was practically skipping with excitement as he and Luffy made their way over to the well. You wanted him to look at you, but you knew he wouldn’t. If he did, Usopp would only find you looking at him - full of questions - with a look calling him a liar. You would never want him to feel bad. It was never your intention, however, it was going to be more embarrassing if you all got caught and thrown out on your ass than just being honest.

“Wow. That’s pretty awesome,” Luffy breathed. His face was full of wonder as he continued to take in the large space. “All of this is just for one person?”

“Well…she lives here with a few other staff.”

“Yeah. A bunch of asshole staff,” you grumbled under your breath.

By the way, Luffy and Usopp were hanging over the side of the well - ick - neither of them had heard you. Unfortunately, your fellow rear buddies did.

“You don’t seem to be a fan of the staff?” Nami ventured.

You eyed her carefully. She came off friendly enough, but she wasn’t giving anything else away. The small smile on her lips wasn’t reaching her eyes. Instead, they were calculating and waiting for you to give her any information you were willing or unwilling to give.

Nami was incredibly smart and equally dangerous because of it.

“They do a lot of suspicious things,” you replied slowly, unsure of how much sharing was too much.

“I’m sure butlers don’t come harboring life-threatening secrets,” Zoro countered.

His hand shoved in a pocket while the other still rested on the sword. He regarded you the way adults do children making up fairytales. The way the townspeople looked at Usopp like a silly child always crying wolf. They both thought you were being silly, and you wish you could say their disregard didn’t make your chest cave in just a bit, but you never were a good liar.

“No, maybe butlers don’t,” you countered, “but people do.”

When neither of them showed signs of continuing on with the conversation you started forward following Usopp and Luffy. You didn’t care about whatever conversation Zoro or Nami were having behind you. They could’ve been discussing robbing the place blind for all you could care about.

You were worried more about the people than the objects inside.

“If you have an invitation, why are we going through the back way?”

Just tell them, Usopp.

“Oh, well I never go through the front entrance. This is more of a VIP entrance.”

“This guy is full of shit.”

“Yeah, but if he gets us inside who cares.”

Why was Luffy the only member of this merry band of misfits who weren’t incredibly grumpy?

“Usopp,” you called out to him in a warning.

He gave you a glance over his shoulder before he made his way over the giant lily pads without a reply.

Little shit, you thought as you realized he was very much choosing to ignore your existence. Did you blame him? Not really. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had humored him this long and you were debating on if you should be the one to crush his newfound hopes and dreams.

Fortunately for you, you weren’t going to have to be the bad guy in that scenario. One already seemed to exist.

Just as Usopp reached the second lily pad, you knew something was wrong. The hiccup of an, “Oh,” that came out of him registering as panic. He was already turning back to stop Luffy from coming closer, almost begging him to go to another entrance - an extra special one - when he was interrupted by a knife plunging into the lily pad between his feet.

A very sharp knife. One you knew could’ve easily severed flesh or nicked an artery. Your blood boiled as you pushed past Luffy, your eyes darting wildly as Buchi stalked towards Usopp who stuttered past a greeting.

“What the hell are you doing here, Usopp?” He snapped as his hands lurched in to grasp the leather of Usopp’s top. “You know you aren’t welcome here.”

“I know nothing of the sort. I came to give Kaya an extra-special gift.”

You practically glided past the last lily pad when a sharp hiss cut the air. You didn’t necessarily need to look to see if it was Sham. You knew it was. She stood just off the first step from where they’d been disemboweling the hog, mop at the ready, and her teeth bared directly at you.

“He’s brought the doctor,” she hissed.

Buchi finally seemed to register your presence from behind Usopp and bared his own teeth in warning.

“You are definitely not welcome here.”

“A rather odd thing to say to a healer when your mistress seems to be suffering a mysterious illness.”

“An illness we are more than capable of handling.”

“I find that highly doubtful.”

With his hands still holding onto Usopp, Buchi leaned forward to growl - literally growl - in your face like a rabid dog. You wanted to poke him in the eye and were incredibly tempted to do so when a soft voice cut through the tension.

“Usopp! What a wonderful surprise!”

Everyone’s attention shifted as Kaya made her entrance on the arm of Klahadore. You took a step back and away from the two just so Usopp could twist himself free and walk towards the waiting mistress of the estate.

“I wouldn’t miss today of all days. Happy birthday, Kaya.”

“You remembered.”

My god, she was practically swooning and Usopp was eating it up.

“I could never forget.”

This feels awkward.

They acted like they didn’t have a captive audience watching them look at each other like two lovestruck teenagers.

It wasn’t hard to notice how Kaya beamed at him or how that attention brought happiness to Usopp. For as long as you can remember, even as children, Usopp always liked her. Sure, he would play it off as if they were just friends. There was no way she could see him that way, but when Kaya’s parents passed away three years ago what was between them seemed to change. Their feelings became something saturated in an understanding of loss. Usopp knew what Kaya needed because it was something he himself had never truly received.

So, did it bother you that she actually hadn’t greeted you yet? Not really. What did bother you, however, was the way Klahadore’s eyes slithered over to you. It made you feel like you were going to be sick.

“Usopp. Did you bring the doctor with you?”

Please, let me crawl into a hole and die.

There was something off about Klahadore. It wasn’t just because he made your skin want to completely crawl off your body. It was the way he sounded every alarm bell in your brain. The way your heart speeds up triggering the fight or flight response that was ingrained in your body's defense system. The way he continued to look at you as if you were a bug that needed to be squashed, only drove the feeling home.

“Oh, yeah. Kaya, I had Doc make you something for your cough. I figured it might be worth a try.”

God, he looked so happy. He was completely oblivious to how Klahadore seemed ready to smite you both where you stood.

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath. Maybe when you opened them he wouldn’t be staring daggers into your face.

Nope. No such luck.

“Oh, that is so incredibly sweet,” Kaya beamed.

Klahadore slowly set his hand out in front of him. The cold obsidian of his eyes never left your face as he spoke. “Please hand over whatever tonic you’ve acquired for Miss Kaya.”

You weren’t aware your hand was already in the satchel. Your fingers wrapped protectively tight against the cool glass of the bottle as you continued to stare at one another.

“Hand it over. Please.”

“No-“

Usopp’s hand on your shoulder stopped you cold. Your teeth ground tightly to stop your next words. You didn’t want to hand that asshole anything. Not when Kaya looked so damn pale.

Something is wrong.

The thought wormed its way into your brain until it gnawed at all other thoughts until it consumed every available spot. It was all you could think as your eyes continued to look over her frail frame.

Naan taught you that as a doctor, and as a healer, it was your job to fight for your patients. To always do what you could and what was best for their care. Was giving the medicine you made for Kaya to Klahadore best for her care.

No. No, it sure as shit didn’t feel like it.

Maybe that was why it felt like such a betrayal to take the medicine from your bag and drop it inside his gloved hand. You watched as his disgusting white fingers wrapped around the gray bottle and brought it up to rest closely to his chest.

“Now, Usopp we’ve had this discussion about coming here unannounced - and this time with a doctor.”

“Nonsense, Klahadore,” Kaya interjected. “They are my friends. What a sweet gesture it was, Doc to try and make me something. Usopp, did you come to tell me more stories about your adventures?”

“I can do you one better. I brought some of my crew.”

With a sweep of his arm, Usopp introduced Luffy, Nami, and Zoro who registered this gesture with sheer disbelief. Well, disbelief would be putting it mildly.

“Is he talking about us?”

Luffy sounded as confused as you felt.

“I’m sorry, but we do not have any room for any extra guests tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Oh please, Klahadore couldn’t they at least stay for dinner? It is my birthday.”

You hated how Kaya had to beg to have company that wasn’t her staff. You could vaguely remember the butler who was in charge before Klahadore had arrived. Mr. Thorburr had been an absolute delight and genuinely seemed to care about Kaya and her family’s wellbeing. If he was still in charge, you were positive he would’ve believed in letting Kaya outside to enjoy the garden or have friends stop by, even unannounced, to visit.

One day he was just gone and slowly the only staff that was left were these three assholes. It all felt awfully convenient or maybe you were just being petty because you disliked them.

The way Klahadore looked at her made your stomach turn.

“Anything for you, Miss Kaya.”

You wondered if he choked a little over each word as they traveled up his throat.

“Great!” Luffy shouted. “When do we eat?”

“You don’t. Not dressed like that. You will change and bathe before dinner. No exceptions.”

Everyone was willing to accept the invitation. The premise of a bath seemed enough to make Nami practically skip forward to be led inside by Sham. Your feet, however, refused to move. Usopp, Luffy, and Nami practically took the small stairs up to the patio in one giant leap. Your earlier dread from the day was back and something dark borrowed its way into your chest.

Something is wrong.

You were about to turn tail and run when you noticed Zoro stop at the edge of the stairs. His body turned slightly to eye Klahadore one last time before he turned to follow after his crew. It was small and barely lasted a second, but it was enough.

Zoro noticed something wasn’t right either and maybe, just maybe, he’d be the one to believe you. All you had to do was join him inside the house to talk to him. No biggie.

Taking in a deep breath you finally moved to follow behind Kaya and Klahadore. Your eyes intently following a particular green-haired swordsman and wondering how you were going to get him alone.

The showers seemed like a great place to start.

_______________________

As always, thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

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celestemona · 3 months ago

Text

⋆˙⟡ — ALWAYS BY YOUR SIDE

there is no greater happiness in the world than being with his little sister, according to cameron. i mean, isn't she the most precious thing?

pairing: dad & husband! wriothesley x fem! reader

cw: slightly ooc, domesticity, parenthood, siblings being adorable. fluff. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Cameron carefully adjusted the carrier strapped to his chest, ensuring his little sister, Marie, was snug and comfortable. Her small hands waved excitedly in the air, and her wide eyes curiously took in the sights around her. Cameron beamed proudly, feeling like the best big brother in the world as he carried the baby through the bustling areas of the fortress.

“Look, Mae, it's Mr. Wolsey and Estienne!” He pointed to the sentinel and the coffee shop owner who were talking not far from their posts. They both smiled at the sight of the two siblings, giving a small wave.

Marie gurgled happily, shaking her tiny hands again as if in response.

“Hello guys. Thank you for your service,” Cameron said on her behalf, his voice filled with the pride of a big brother showing off his adorable baby sister.

As they continued their walk, they encountered several inmates who greeted them warmly, and some who even paused their tasks to play with the happy little girl. Marie's chubby cheeks and innocent smiles melted even the hardest hearts in the fortress. Cameron couldn't help but puff out his chest a little, enjoying the attention his sister was receiving.

A few moments later, as he turned the corner, the boy came across Wriothesley, you, and a few guards in range, deep in conversation. You carried a stack of documents while the others listened to you attentively. When you saw Cameron and Marie, your faces lit up.

“Why, if it isn't my favorite little lady,” Wriothesley approaches, his voice warm and affectionate. He reached out to take Marie out of the transporter, but Cameron quickly turned his body, shielding the girl from her father.

“Step back, Dad. I'm the one taking care of her today,” Cameron protested, giving the older man a determined look, “We're in the middle of our walk, and only brother and sister are allowed.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Is that so? Well, I think Daddy deserves some time with his princess too.”

Cameron shook his head, holding Marie a little tighter. “Nu-uh. Not now. You'll have to wait for your turn.”

You, who until then just watched the interaction in silence, laughed softly. You handed the paperwork to a nearby guard and crossed your arms, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before your eyes. The other officials around you also exchanged amused glances, enjoying the playful family drama.

Marie, confused by the tension developing there, tugged at the fabric of Cameron's shirt, catching his attention.

She cooed something in her own language, her eyes shining with adoration.

Cameron's heart melted instantly, but he remained steadfast. Though it was crystal clear to both you and your husband the pride and exhibitionism that emanated from your son.

“See? She wants to be with me.”

Wriothesley sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “The courage of this boy. Very well. You won this round, Cam, but I'm not giving up that easily.”

You approach your husband from behind, smirking mischievously. “Maybe we should let Cameron have his time with Marie, dear,” you suggested, winking at the teenager, “Besides, it seems like she’s pretty happy where she is.”

Wriothesley pretended to think about it, a pout almost imperceptible, then nodded. “Okay, but don’t think this is over,” he said, giving Cameron a mock-serious look. “I will return to my princess.”

Cameron smiled triumphantly and said goodbye, continuing his walk with his little sister. The baby girl clapped her hands and laughed excitedly, happy for the attention and play between her father and brother.

As they walked away, you turned to Wriothesley, laughing softly. “You two are like big kids,” you teased. “It’s lovely.”

Wriothesley shrugged, a fond smile on his face as he watched his children disappear around the corner.

“What can I say? She has us all wrapped around her tiny finger.”

The guards exchanged amused glances once again, shaking their heads with smiles.

The fortress may be a place of order and discipline, but moments like these brought a warm feeling that everyone appreciated.

For Cameron, the hike with his sister was a cherished memory in the making. And for Wriothesley and you, seeing your children bond so closely made your hearts fill with pride and love. As Marie's sweet laugh echoed through the halls, the family knew these moments were priceless.

trivia: wriothesley is around 40s here. we love a old man, girl's dad.

a/n i wrote this very quick so i don't know if it's good but i like it?? i've been inspired by your brainrots and mails in the few past days and saved all of them. nonetheless, i'll be reducing the number of posts because i'm leaving my studies behind lol thank you for your reading! anon who suggested their interaction, this post is for you <3

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #when they're dads #genshin dads au #genshin husbands au #teen! Cameron #baby! Marie

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elliesmainhoe · 10 months ago

Text

Ellie Williams Headcanons : RichOlderWoman!Ellie

I got this as an ask but Tumblr ate it 😱 so here you go anon.

Okay Okay. So, first things first, from day one Ellie was always adamant when saying that you were NEVER her sugar baby.

you were just her controversially young girlfriend who she liked to spoil and have perched on her lap during boring business meetings.

speaking of SPOLING-

she regularly takes you on trips to expensive high end malls which exclusively house designer brands and WILL buy you anything you look at as long as you hold her hand while you both walk around.

but CEO Ellie Williams is a busy woman, and doesn't always have a long enough interval between meetings to keep you company.

in those cases she simply kisses you cheek and forehead before handing you a small black card and saying "give me a show of everything you buy when I get home, hm?"

arthritis may be fast approaching but those hips do not slow

(jk she's only in her late thirties, and you know for a fact the extent of working out she does keeps her joints in check)

in fact she gives the best strap game. the experience and the variety of expensive toys and the regular gym routine = 🤩

always her arm candy

every once in a while after lovingly gazing at you for a little too long, looking at your soft supple thighs, pink lipstick coated lips and shiny hair cascading beautifully from your head. she feels insecure?

it's an odd feeling.

an unfamiliar feeling.

but Ellie is mature, it's one thing you admire about herand she knows that a problem won't be resolved unless she talks to you.

so she does, and as soon as the voices of concern fall from her lips, you soon put those thoughts to rest <333

she does the same to you!!

it was a normal day, you woke up to a cup of coffee on your bed side, a small pastry from your favorite bakery, a credit card and a note which read:

"Good Morning my love, I completely forgot about the early morning meeting I had today. I got you some pastries as an apology, I'm sorry we can't go shopping today like we planned, but here's my card and the driver can take you to the mall.

Love you pretty girl, Ellie x"

•••••••

it was a while later when Joel, your driver, pulled up outside the office building, you thanked him swiftly and walked quickly towards the automatic doors of 'Williams Enterprises Headquarters', expensive jimmy choo heels clicking against the concrete entrance. The security guard, Bob, nodded his head in greeting and you returned the gesture with a smile.

The receptionist was... different. the usual blonde haired girl was replaced by a middle aged woman with greying hair, deep set wrinkles imbedded in pale skin. "Hi what can I do for you today?" a high squeaky voice came from her mouth. a tone of voice you knew from years of retail work and customer service, you winced instinctively.

"Hi, I'm here to see Miss Williams." you reply, fingers tightening on the strap of the mulberry purse Ellie had gifted you for your 2nd anniversary a few months passed.

"hmmm. I don't see you on the schedule, do you have an appointment?" she smiled, the fakeness clear and tone of voice irritated.

"oh, uhm no. I'm her girlfriend" silence. the fake smile plastered on the woman's face falling, as she looked over behind her to a colleague who nodded in confirmation of the story you had given her.

"sorry if this is intrusive kid, but aren't you a little young." she spoke, and chewed a piece of him you hadn't noticed before rather obnoxiously. "I mean I can tell you're..." her eyes scanned your frame "reaping the benefits."

"I mean, god I can't blame you" she continued " if I had the looks and youth I once did I would happily suck off anyone for chanel. Now tell me doll, how much surgery has Mrs. Williams paid for you to have done, surely those tits aren't real?"

you quickly brushed past her, ignoring the intrusive questions and stepped into the elevator, pressing the floor Ellie's office resided on.

the site of you immediately brought a smile onto your girlfriend's previously pinched and visibly frustrated face. "Hi pretty girl,", she pushed out her chair from behind her desk, patting her thigh for you to sit on. "Hi Els." the frown you couldn't quite erase from your features furrowed your brows in a way Ellie couldn't ignore.

"What happened baby? you upset with me for leaving earlier?" she asked softly, adjusting you on her lap and kissing your temple. "nah it's not that- I just-" your hands instinctively began playing with Ellie's fingers, twisting the ring on her index finger slowly. "the new lady, in reception. she said something-" you sighed. "and I just can't shake it."

"do you think that, I'm a burden? that the fact I'm so young means I'm leeching off you? I don't want to do that Ells. I like dresses and bags and makeup and you give that to me because you can, but I just- if you ever don't want to buy me stuff, please tell me Ells, I don't want to take and take and take when you don't want me to."

a soft chuckle shook Ellie's chest "pretty girl, look at me. The reason I work is to spoil you, the reason I go to these bullshit meetings with these stuckup assholes is to give you and me a life where money is no object. I love you sweet girl" she kissed your plush lips, the tension seemingly draining out of your body at the touch.

"now, which receptionist said that?"

•••••••••

A/N: cute little hc and drabble to get me back into the swing of things.

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targaryenluvs · 11 months ago

Note

we can send in ideas you say 👀 dark! Cory with a reader who’s not so inclined to behave and listen to him, being bratty, turning him away, embarrassing him in public ….. his frail ego would shatter (and who knows what he’d do to her 🫣🫣)

TEMPER TANTRUM

pairing: president!coriolanus snow x fem!bratty!reader

summary: you were the daughter of one of the richest couples of panem. everything you’ve ever wanted, handed to you. coriolanus had a short temper and you were stubborn. who knows what could happen?

warnings: arguments, bratty reader, public scenes, punishments, kinda smutty, fingering, not proof read i’m lazy

a/n: stand up and fight back to that rude bitch babe

they’d messed up your order. again.

you’d ordered three dresses, all pink and one was too small. you’d already returned it multiple times but apparently the shop owner was incompetent. did he know who you were? the first lady of panem deserved nothing but the best and this imbecile couldn’t even do his job.

you’d give him another chance you figured. “soreen!” you shouted out as you heard the pitter patter of footsteps on the floor. “yes mrs snow?” you sighed, “pull the car around please. we’re going down to the genevieve store.” she nodded before scurrying away to arrange your mode of transportation.

the car ride was smooth, much to your relief. you needed at least one thing to go right today, and the car ride helped boost your morale as you pulled up in front of the aforementioned store. “here we are mrs snow.” your driver spoke as he promptly exited the vehicle to open your door, “thank you phillip.” he tipped his cap to you before shutting your door, “i’ll be waiting ma’am.”

the store was quite large, for someone who hadn’t been there before it was quite easy to lose your way. but you knew exactly where you were headed, walking a path of determination as you reached the front desk. a young lady, clearly disengaged from her job sat filing her nails at the desk. “what do you want?” your face twisted into a disingenuous smile, this was going to be fun, you thought. you cleared your throat as you placed your handbag down with care.

“mrs y/n snow, here for adina?” the girl looked close to tears as a string of apologies fell through her lips, “let me go get him, again, i cannot express my apologies mrs snow.” you’d already turned around to sit at one of the many chairs strewn about.

adina was frantic.

he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the first lady of panem, in his store, by herself. nonetheless, he quickly nodded along to her explanation of her dilemma, the dresses, the sizes, the unresponsive customer aid line.

you’d walked out of the store were five new dresses, all free of cost. a successful day in your eyes. the whisperings were there, of how the last store clerk who’d kept you waiting went out of business. or how the cook whose meal caused you to choke had his hand cut off. mistakes were made in the process of the workers bending over backwards to produce the upmost quality service for the presidents darling wife.

who was known for her own expensive tastes.

and god help anyone who kept her waiting.

the dress was for a charity event that night. coriolanus of course didn’t want to go, but it was seen as beneficial to his own cause to be seen out and about, especially at a high profile event. whereas you on the other hand? you’d ordered three new dresses, five now, two new pairs of heels and that jewellery set you’d been eyeing up for a while.

coriolanus wanted to get through the night, that was it. the office was as stressful as ever, his secretary was out sick, so a fill-in took her place, stuttering every time he spoke to her and messed up his meetings of the day. but since marrying you, coriolanus knew nothing was ever easy with you.

you prided yourself on your unpredictability. to keep people on their toes. you loved being able to stick out from the rest, keep people guessing. and most of all, you loved being seen, admired. you were never one to be tame, coriolanus knew it. you always tested his patience and temper.

but this?

you’d worn a burgundy gown, off the shoulder, floor length and a v-cut too low for his likes. the one dress out of five he’d disapproved of. you’d disobeyed him purposefully, coriolanus hoped you’d grow out of old habits, but again they die hard.

the eyes were on you like vultures, his wife.

he’d deal with you later, just get through the night.

“and that dress! it’s certainly, something.” you didn’t know the girls name, but her face seemed familiar. “why thank you! coriolanus had picked out some others but then again what do men know about women’s fashion?” the woman’s slack jaw caused you to giggle, “well aren’t you fiery! the president has a lot on his hands with you.”

you tossed your hair behind as you took a sip from your glass, “well i’m sure if he can handle a whole country,” you leaned in before whispering, “he can try his best to handle me.” coriolanus saw red. one night, without your antics was all he’d wished for. the dress and your behaviour had sent him over the edge.

“miss.” coriolanus acknowledged the woman as he grabbed a hold of your hand, “president snow! how nice it is to see you here, and your donation! how splendid.” coriolanus’s charm seemed to switch on instantaneously, “anything for the, good cause.” coriolanus couldn’t give a flying fuck about the cause let alone remember what it was. “it’s time for us to go.”

you had an image, pristine and clear. a lovely woman, kind and respectful. at times naive but overall a caring wife. your slick words, which charmed any man or woman, your striking beauty and sweet personality.

but at your core you, like your husband. couldn’t care less, it was one of the reasons you got along so well. it was all a facade and coriolanus was the only person who knew the real you. much to his chagrin, the real you was a total bitch. a smooth talker with a pretty face who got everything she wanted. you’d never wanted to marry him in the first place, so it seemed to be your personal mission to embarrass the poor man.

“if you’re tired then head on home love. i know you need your hours of sleep, cranky without them!” you made him sound like child without his favourite toy, unable to go on until he had it again. “sweetheart, you know we go home together. now come along.” his tone was nothing like the fake warmth it mimicked, you were on thin ice. “yes i know, honey, but you’re not incapable of returning home without me now are you? i’m sure the driver remembered the directions for you.” you pinched his cheek. pinched. his. cheek.

you may as well have started praying for your soul.

so he left, alone.

you had no clue as to why you wanted to stay. it’s not as if there was someone actually worthwhile to engage in conversation with, but you just wanted to be out of the house. you had to soak up your time outside while it lasted you assumed. coriolanus wouldn’t be letting you out anytime soon, especially after what you’d said that night.

the door slammed shut as you hung up your coat next to corio’s. you took a deep breath in before exhaling. it was going to be a long night.

“did you have fun?” corio was sat in a large, plush, arm chair, swirling a drink in his hand. you could only wonder how many he’d had in the hours by himself. “i did.” your voice was gentle, the house quiet in the dead of night. but the large mansion echoed, he would’ve heard you anyways.

“hm.” he feigned interest in your response. all he wanted was to put you in your place. “corio?” he turned to view you, whilst you walked over before situating yourself on his arm chair. but as soon as you did his glass clattered onto the side table as he rose up. “we’re going to bed.” you weren’t sure if he’d snap if you protested, your feet were aching and you found it best not to argue.

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, which is how you ended up fully exposed whilst coriolanus was fully dressed. “please.” you’d been on your back for the last, ten? twenty? “please what?” coriolanus liked to put you in your place, it was one of his favourite things to do since you forgot it so often. “touch me.” his hand slipped into your panties, fingers sliding into your already soaking hole as you clutched onto his shoulders.

he’d been teasing you for what felt like forever and you felt you were finally done with it. “close your eyes.” he whispered as his fingers slid out, eliciting a whine from your throat, but you listened, closing your eyes, wondering what he’d do.

it’d been a minute since corio spoke and you were feeling restless. on one hand you could wait for him to speak up, allow you to open your eyes. on the other, you opened them to peek at what he was doing and he dragged out your punishment.

and to your right lay your husband, asleep. “corio!” you groaned out before shoving his shoulder, “you didn’t think i was going to fuck you tonight? after the shit you pulled? you have fingers, use them.” and coriolanus fell asleep soundly to your attempts to finish off without him.

now that, would teach you a lesson.

#hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #kira and anon chat <3 #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut

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wifeyoozi · 4 months ago

Text

"Best Dick Award"

just a blurb ,, crack/suggestive ,, aka having another episode of ceecee's madness reaching a new high

You and Jihoon are lounging in your living room, enjoying a lazy afternoon together. The TV is playing some random show in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention. You're too busy giggling to yourself, holding a small, hastily wrapped box in your hands.

"What's so funny?" Jihoon asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks over at you.

You can't help but snicker. "I have a surprise for you."

Jihoon sits up a little straighter, curiosity piqued. "A surprise? For me?"

"Yep," you say, handing him the box. "Go on, open it."

Jihoon takes the box, giving you a skeptical look before tearing off the wrapping paper. Inside, he finds a small golden-painted plastic trophy, the kind you might get from a novelty shop. The plaque on the front reads, "Best Dick Award."

Jihoon bursts out laughing, holding the trophy up for a better look. "Are you serious?"

You nod, trying to keep a straight face. "Totally serious. You’ve earned it."

Jihoon shakes his head, still chuckling. "And what exactly did I do to deserve this prestigious honor?"

You grin, leaning back on the couch. "Well, for one, you've been exceptionally generous with your, uh, 'services.' Plus two, you’ve set a new standard in, shall we say, performance. And last but definitely not the list, you are endowed in a way to just please women." You chuckle with a wink.

Jihoon smirks, clearly amused. "Wow, I'm honored. I'd like to thank the academy, my parents for always believing in me, and most importantly, my lovely partner for being such a dedicated audience."

You burst into laughter. "You're welcome! It's a tough job, but someone’s got to do it."

Jihoon sets the trophy on the coffee table, still smiling. "So, do I get any other perks with this award? A speech? A victory lap?"

You tap your chin, pretending to think. "Hmm, I think the award itself is pretty prestigious. But I suppose we could celebrate... privately."

Jihoon's eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, a different kind of lap, I see. I like the sound of that. Just remember, with great power comes great responsibility."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Don't let it go to your head. Or, you know, the other head."

Jihoon laughs, pulling you into his arms. "I promise to use my powers wisely."

"Good," you say, snuggling against him. "Because I might just have to revoke your title if you don't."

Jihoon gives you a mock serious look. "I'd better stay on my A-game then. Can't risk losing the 'Best Dick Award.'"

You laugh, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips. "Exactly. Now, Mr. Best Dick, how about we start our celebration?"

Jihoon grins, pulling you over his lap. "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

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chateaaa · 5 months ago

Text

"he probably hates me" x "i love you so much"

pairing: Rin Itoshi x fem! reader

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

req: "he probably hates me" x "i love you so much" Trope with rin is so true! Mau I request a one-shot of this pls? If u do make it, Tysm! ❤

Rin Itoshi was bad with his feelings and emotions. He knew that but deep down, he is actually a very fragile and sensitive man. Whose heart has been shattered into a million pieces because of how his brother left him.

Ever since you met Rin, your life has changed by becoming his girlfriend, Rin may not seem like it but he would be your typical act of service guy at the start of your relationship

Rin Itoshi, who after blue lock changed, his demeanour changed, his attitude changed and more importantly, your relationship changed. It's like he hates you, he never cares for you, Rin who after blue lock didn't even spare a glance at you.

You knew about Rin's ideals to beat his brother, but you still continued to support him, such as watching how the blue lock won against the football team of japan.

After the U20 match, you received a message from your cold beloved boyfriend, who asked if you can both meet at the park near the stadium because he has something to tell you, which you replied agreeing.

You walked to the park with a small frown, fully expecting that the Rin Itoshi is planning to break up with you.

You sat down at a swing in the park waiting for Rin.

An hour has passed after he messaged you, and he was still not at the park, you then thought positively about how Rin is probably being held up for interviews because of the victory of blue lock.

you saw a stray cat coming near you, and you gently picked it up as it purred when you petted the cat's head.

The park was silent, the only person was you (and the cat) and you were completely thinking about how Rin probably ditched you.

"Hey Mr. cat, do you think my boyfriend hates me?" you suddenly asked the cat, the cat then purred as you chuckled thinking how stupid you look talking about your boy problems to a literal cat.

"You see, i really love him, however i know that i'm a hindrance to his goal so i think it's time for us to break up" you continued talking to the cat.

"My boyfriend is the best, i love his smile and how passionate he is to football and i think i won't be needed in his future" you chuckled bitterly.

You then stood up from the swing, prepared to leave the park then suddenly you saw a figure running towards you.

And that was your boyfriend, The Rin Itoshi, who was now in front of you, still in his jersey, sweat beads going down his forehead as he looked into your eyes.

There was an awkward silence in the air, with Rin catching his breath, you decided to break the silence by speaking up "Rin, how are you? Congrats on winning the game!" you smiled genuinely.

"Y/n listen i—" Rin tried to talk to you.

"Let's break up, Rin" you smiled sadly.

"What...?" Rin replied genuinely shocked.

You closed your eyes, with the fear of getting the look of hatred from Rin as you spoke "Listen Rin, i know that you hate me, it's very obvious and i know i'm an hindrance to your goal in beating your brother, so it's okay and let's break up, thank you for being my boyfriend, Rin, Goodluck on your journey" you smiled, when you opened your eyes you saw something very shocking

You didn't expect the reaction from your boyfriends face when you said that, It was the first time you saw your boyfriend sad, looking like he was about to cry.

"W-What's wrong?" you replied in a panicked state, clearly not used to how rin expresses his emotions to you.

He then hugged you very tight, hands gripping your waist silently pleading for you to not let go, his head resting on your shoulder inhaling your sweet scent.

"I love you so fucking much, Please don't leave me"

— fanfic here

#blue lock fluff #blue lock #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock headcanons #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you

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makeyoumine69 · 8 months ago

Text

Spit In My Face

— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.

— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).

— WORDS: 21k (oops)

— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face

— A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST];[SERIES MASTERLIST].

Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.

“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you.

All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"

His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options."

You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."

Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”

With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection.

"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.

"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"

Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:

“We’ve arrived.”

"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.

Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?

As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.

"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around.

"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."

"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form.

When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.

"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way.

"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.

Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:

"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again! Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."

'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”

The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.

Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned.

"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"

"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.

"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."

"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.

“Please, follow me.”

Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.

“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”

"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."

Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.

“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"

“Yes, Miss.”

"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.

Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.

"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.

The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."

“Are you here alone?”

“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”

An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.

"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.

"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."

The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.

"Do you have a date or not?"

"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.

"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.

"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.

Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"

Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"

"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.

It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze.

"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.

"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?”

First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”

“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”

With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.

“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”

“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”

With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.

“Time literally stopped for me when you left.”

'What a beautiful flattery.'

After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.

“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”

“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.

And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.

"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."

A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.

"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"

You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"

"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"

“What?”

"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."

Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”

Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”

“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”

After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.

"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work.

"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."

"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.

Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”

"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"

"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"

“Stop it, Patrick…”

“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”

Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.

“Can you just leave and let me change?”

“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”

Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"

He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”

"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."

“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf.

“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place.

“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”

With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress.

And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.

"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.

Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”

'No, not good...no!'

“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end.

"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."

"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart.

“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”

Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple.

"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.

Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.

“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”

As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.

“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.

“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”

Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.

With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt.

“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”

Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop.

When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”

'And he just stopped, holy hell.'

Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.

“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"

Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy.

'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'

A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.

“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt.

“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.

Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.

“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”

“You…Only y-you...”

Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."

“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.

With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan.

And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”

“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.

Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”

You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”

Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“What for? I can pay for this myself.”

His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”

“But I didn’t ask...”

A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.

Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.

“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”

At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.

'Oops!'

Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:

"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.

"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."

"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.

“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”

"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”

He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.

"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming.

"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"

The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.

"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.

"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."

Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"

"Of course!"

All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"

Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"

"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"

When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."

Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.

All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.

'Bullshit.'

"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?

Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."

You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.

“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit.

“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”

Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”

"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"

Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”

“You’re such an…”

Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.

When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.

"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him.

The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am."

Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.

His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.

"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.

"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."

Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”

"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."

'Excellent.'

Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?

"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."

"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something.

Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:

"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"

Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.

"I don't understand, why do you ask?"

Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."

Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"

"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."

After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.

"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"

A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.

'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'

"Cupcake..."

"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"

'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:

"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"

"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding."

"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.

With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.

"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound.

"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads.

As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.

"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."

"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."

"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."

Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"

“Ask yourself.”

The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.

"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"

"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"

"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"

Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away.

'No, no, no. Not again'

You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears.

'Stop.'

"Cupcake."

'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.'

"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"

One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.

"Daddy."

Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.

"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.

Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop.

Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.

"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"

"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers.

"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"

This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.

"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."

"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."

"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."

A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.

"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."

"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”

"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.

Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:

"Come back!"

"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."

Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.

Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later.

As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.

'Just leave, please!'

Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.

"Patrick."

"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.

"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."

And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.

When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.

Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.

"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.

"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."

Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"

Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.

"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?"

"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."

"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"

Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!"

That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."

Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.

"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?"

With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.

"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"

"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."

"Even worse than you?"

He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."

"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"

"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.

"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."

"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."

"That's right."

Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.

"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"

That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun.

"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body.

But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.

"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"

"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."

You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.

"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.

Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.

After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.

As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.

"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.

You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."

Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."

'God, what a jerk.'

"Can't say the same about you."

"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."

"You really think I care?"

And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.

"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."

You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."

Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.

"Do you like him?"

"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.

"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."

Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?

"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."

"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness.

"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."

The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.

"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.

"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."

You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.

Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.

Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.

His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.

God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.

After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.

A second, two seconds.

It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.

"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.

Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?

At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.

Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."

Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on.

With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"

Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.

"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening."

With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery.

"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?"

Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."

You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest.

"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.

His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much?

Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.

Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.

The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'

Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.

The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head.

"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.

"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"

"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"

"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..."

Lost.

Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents.

"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"

A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.

"HEY! We were just trying to help!"

"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"

Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?

"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"

At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it.

"Who did this to you?"

'You did.'

But he would never know.

"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?"

Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.

As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.

"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"

Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine.

"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"

Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."

Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"

You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.

Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.

Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.

"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.

You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."

Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.

"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It does."

"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."

The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.

"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face.

"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."

A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.

"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"

What the hell was going on inside your head?

Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.

Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?

When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.

"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."

Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."

"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."

"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."

Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."

To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.

"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.

"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."

He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.

"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."

You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.

"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."

This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.

There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.

Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place.

Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.

“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”

His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”

“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”

“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink of poverty?”

Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”

'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'

You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.

“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.

“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”

Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.

With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”

“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.

“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.

You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”

“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”

His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”

Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.

“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”

“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”

He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”

“Good for you.”

You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.

“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”

Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him.

“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his.

Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.

'It's already too much.'

Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage.

“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”

Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”

His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”

Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race.

“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”

You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'

After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves.

“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”

“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”

“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”

Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?

With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours.

“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”

It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.

“And what do you do to relax?"

“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”

“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”

With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."

At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.

“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”

“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”

“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”

“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”

At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that.

You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.

In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new.

The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you.

'Excellent!'

Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.

Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.

Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting — the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.

Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.

“Cupcake, are you—”

A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.

“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”

Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself.

How could he let this happen?

As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.

Never.

"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality.

"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully.

"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."

"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.

"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"

Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper.

After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again.

Emotions were overtaking you.

Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”

“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.

“Patrick! Please, don’t go!”

Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”

“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.

This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.

One, two, three…

What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?

Four, five, six…

The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.

Seven, eight, nine…

How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering?

“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.

Ten.

“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.

“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.

“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"

“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”

“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.

Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.

“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”

“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”

With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”

You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this.

Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?

Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.

Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.

That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”

“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.

Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.

“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”

“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”

As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.

“Stay like that.”

After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.

“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”

“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.

His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.

The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.

“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.

Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.

“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.

Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.

“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"

This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.

Why did it hurt so good to be alive?

You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.

"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"

Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.

"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?"

"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.

"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.

"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"

God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.

Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.

“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”

Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.

A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat.

Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off.

Jesus Christ.

Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache.

New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.

"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.

Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.

With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."

Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."

"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms.

"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"

"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking."

Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"

"That sounds really good."

Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”

With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”

And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.

“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”

A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.

“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”

“I won’t, I promise,” the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”

With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’

Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.

“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door.

“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”

After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”

With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”

“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.”

This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’

Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”

“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”

Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”

You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”

Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.

“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”

“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?”

‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’

Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.

"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"

"Not really, but I need your help."

"Help?"

The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.

"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.

You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”

“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”

Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’

Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?”

Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.”

“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”

“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”

The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.

“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”

“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”

"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."

“It was just an accident.”

“You could die, Cupcake…”

"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."

“Ouch.”

“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.

“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”

Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.

“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you.

First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.

“Pat-Patrick…”

“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”

‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’

“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!’ Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”

There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.

Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.

“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”

The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.”

Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”

Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”

“Are you…really telling me this?!”

“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”

The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?

“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”

“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”

Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”

A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.

"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."

"Patrick..."

He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."

"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."

The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair.

‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.

All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.

A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.

“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”

“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”

Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”

“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”

"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."

“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.

Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.

Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.

“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”

Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”

His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.

“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."

"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."

"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."

"Us?"

"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."

With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened.

All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.

When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.

The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat.

With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”

Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”

The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”

“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”

“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”

“Thanks.”

With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said:

“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake,

I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon.

Utterly yours, P.B.”

Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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k-nayee · 24 days ago

Text

Between Faith and Flesh Grotesquerie x Midnight Mass

wc: 2.8k a/n: incase it was unclear, this is a little cross-over between Grotesquerie x Midnight Mass while also being an Actor!AU. Might be a lil confusing but wanted to make something new lol

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything....James 1:2-4."

The familiar warmth of the chapel enveloped you as you delivered the final lines of your morning homily, your voice calm yet resonant in the quiet space.

Sunlight filtered through the modest stained-glass windows, casting soft hues of gold and amber across the worn pews where Crockett Island's tight-knit congregation sat.

The scent of salt and damp wood lingered faintly in the air—a reminder of the sea just beyond the church walls.

Your gaze swept across the group, catching the faces you had come to know so well over the past year.

The mayor's daughter Leeza Scarborough sat in the front row, wide eyes attentive on you as she folded her hands neatly in her lap.

Even Sheriff Hassan stood near the back as his son Ali sat near him listening intently, despite knowing how outdated many were to his Islamic faith.

These people, they had become your family in a way—this island, with all its quiet mysteries, had grown on you.

You closed your sermon with a passage on resilience, something that had always resonated with you—like how faith, similar to the sea surrounding them, could be both steady and tumultuous.

"We find strength not in the absence of struggle, but in how we rise after the waves pull us under." Your words hung in the air for a moment, met with soft nods and murmurs of agreement from the congregation.

"Let us pray," you began, your hands resting gently on the altar.

As you spoke your thoughts wandered briefly, like they often did, to Riley Flynn—a name you had known only through the accident that had first led you here.

His absence was a constant echo in the small populace community, felt even when it wasn't spoken aloud.

As the congregation stood to leave, you lingered near the altar to exchange kind words with those who came up to you.

A soft word here, a warm touch on the shoulder there—each gesture felt like a testament to how far you'd come.

This role, unexpected as it was, had become more than just a position. It was your calling.

"You've really made a place for yourself here," Anne said quietly, her expression sincere as she approached.

"Thank you Mrs. Flynn," you replied, offering her a gentle smile. "Means a lot coming from you."

And it did. Especially knowing how much of the weight of her son's sins pressed on her mind.

It still surprised you sometimes how much the town had accepted you. Even when being the first ordained woman pastor—something that should have sparked outrage, especially in a small traditional community—the people had welcomed you with open arms.

Or at least most of them had.

The familiar sound of heels clicking sharply against the stone floor caught your attention.

Bev Keane.

She always had an aura of cold disapproval, her gaze flickering over you with barely concealed distaste.

"Another lovely service I'm sure," she said, compliment laced with her usual acidity. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she continued, "But I wonder if perhaps next time you might include more...traditional teachings? Some of the congregation finds your progressive messages a bit, well, out of step."

Her words stung, but you kept your expression calm refusing to rise to her bait.

Bev had never approved of your leadership from the start—the idea of a woman in your position, however temporary, was something she barely tolerates.

With every sermon you gave, every interaction with the townsfolk that went well, her bitterness seemed to deepen.

"I'll take your suggestion under consideration," you kept your tone firm. There was no point in arguing with Bev directly—it would only lead to more confrontation.

One thing you had long since learned about Bev's resistance was that it was more about control than doctrine.

She craved the power that came with influence over the church, and your very presence threatened that.

Bev's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. Well I'll leave you to clean up. God knows there's always work to be done."

With a stiff nod she turned on her heel and marched away, her presence lingering even after she disappeared through the doors.

As the last of the congregation departed, the chapel fell into a serene silence once again.

You exhaled softly, feeling the weight of the morning settle on your shoulders.

Despite the support of the community, moments like these reminded you of how precarious your position was.

You knew she was waiting for any excuse to discredit you—an outsider who had stepped into a role she believed was hers by right.

Busying yourself by tidying up, your hands smooth the fabric of the altar cloth as you cleared the space for the next service.

The chapel, now empty, felt both peaceful and solemn.

It was in these quiet moments that you often found yourself reflecting on the journey that had brought you here—from your small-town upbringing, to your studies, to this remote island where you now stood as the first ordained woman pastor.

The soft chime of your phone broke the stillness. Pulling the device from your pocket, you faintly smile at the name on the screen. Nick.

The message was short but familiar—a photo of him post-workout, his face flushed with exertion with a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

Nick: Finishing up my workout. Just wanted to give you an update :)

Your could feel the warmth creeping up your neck.

You weren't sure why you were smiling so much—after all, it was just Nick being...Nick. Friendly, teasing, always with that infectious charm.

But somehow, the way your eyes lingered on the photo for a beat too long made you acutely aware of something deeper. Something you weren't sure you should be feeling.

Shaking your head slightly, you reply back.

____: Glad to see you're keeping busy!

You hit send, already imagining the smirk he'd have seeing your response.

As soon you tuck away your phone, intent on finishing the cleanup, another buzz came almost immediately.

Nick: Hope you weren't doing anything unholy with that picture of me ;)

The heat had spread to your face and a startled laugh slipped past your lips.

You quickly type back.

____: Behave Nicholas. I'm a pastor remember?

You knew he was just being playful, but it didn't stop the way your heart skipped slightly at the implications.

Unholy. The word reverberated in your mind longer than it should have.

Before you could dwell too much on it, another text came through.

Nick: Sure sure I believe you ;) Anyways got a surprise for you

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, curiosity piqued.

____: A surprise? What kind?

Nick: You'll see. Just finished that project I told you about. Check your email when you get home. And no peeking. You promised

The reminder made you chuckle. ____: Fine fine I'll wait. It better be good especially with all this mystery!

You added a playful emoji at the end, the excitement clear in your message.

His response was immediate, and you could practically hear his voice.

Nick: Oh it's good. Don't worry I know you're going to love it.

You smiled at the screen, shaking your head at his confidence. Of course he'd know.

The faint echo of your steps on the wooden floor snapped you back to the present, making your thoughts drift back to his arrival, how it had all begun.

It was almost a year at the time when Father Pruitt had left on his pilgrimage, leaving you in charge of the church—a transition you hadn't anticipated but had eventually embraced.

And just as you were starting to find your footing, Nicholas Chaves had appeared, adding a new dynamic you hadn't expected.

Before he arrived to Crockett Island, you recall the unexpected email you received: a simple inquiry from the actor who was looking to deepen his understanding of priesthood for an upcoming role.

He wanted to shadow someone in the clergy, someone who could give him an authentic insight into the life of a pastor.

And he'd heard about your rather unique position on the island...

You of course were slightly taken aback by his openness and easy way he'd talked about his work.

It wasn't every day someone like Nick came knocking, but you had agreed mainly from intrigue of the whole situation.

Even when Bev became immediately suspicious of him—practically interrogating him when he first arrived—the rest of the town welcomed him warmly, charmed by his easygoing nature.

"Another distraction," she'd muttered once when Nick had offered to help you carry boxes of hymnals inside one time. "This is a church not a social club."

Her words always came with that same bitter edge, though by now you'd learned to brush them off.

He stayed in Father Pruitt's old house with you during that time in one of the spare rooms.

As you finished locking up and made your way toward the small home, your thoughts drifted back to him.

You never planned on feeling so affected by him. Yes he was charming, but it was more than that—there was something about him that drew you in even when you tried to resist it.

And it wasn't just his looks—though you couldn't deny the way your breath occasionally caught when he smiled at you in that boyish way of his.

No. It was his presence. The way he carried himself—confident yet curious, never shying away from asking questions about your work and sermons, about faith itself.

He was genuinely interested, even if he wasn't fully immersed in it like you were.

In all, conversations with Nick were easy; late-night talks often ended up stretching longer than intended as you discussed everything from theology to the little absurdities of life.

And yet despite the growing comfort, there had always been a tension simmering beneath the surface.

The first time you felt the it was when he'd sat in on one of your late-night study sessions, helping you prep for Sunday Mass.

His quiet attentiveness as he listened to you practice, his casual lean against the doorway as he watched with a smile tugging at his lips.

Now, as you made your way up the steps, you wondered what this surprise of Nick's could be.

You pushed the front door open, the familiar scent of wood and old books greeting you.

It was home now—at least for the time being. Letting out a sigh, you set your bag down and make your way to the bedroom.

Changing your robes and veil into a more comfortable sleepwear, you grab your laptop and settle into bed.

There in your inbox, you find a sent email from him.

Three video files, each with a timestamp of about an 50 minutes. The subject line read simply: For You.

You frowned in confusion but quickly clicked on the first one. The video loaded, and as it played, the familiar face of Niecy Nash popped up on the screen.

A soft laugh escaped you—a TV show? It wasn't what you were expecting, but you were intrigued.

As the episode unfolded, you were drawn into the storyline.

It was refreshing actually, seeing a concept that brushed against the edges of a religion that's intertwined with your own daily life.

By the second episode you were completely hooked. You'd grown attached to the characters, loving the way they navigated this warped world of morality and sin.

The storyline itself was intense and unpredictable in how it blended the very faith you preached into something so viscerally raw.

But then your heart leapt a little as Nick—or rather, Father Charlie finally appeared on screen.

You smiled, unable to resist snapping a picture of the scene and sending it to him with a simple teasing text.

____: Look who just showed up on my screen.

Your phone buzzed almost instantly, but you ignored it.

You were too caught up in watching him; your eyes tracing the way he moved, the way his expression shifted with every word.

It was surreal watching him play a priest when just a few weeks ago, he had been standing beside you in the church helping with the altar cloths.

Every close-up of his face had your heart doing an odd little flip. You'd shared conversations with that face, shared jokes and moments of comfort.

The goofy smile on your lips was hard to suppress as you watched him banter with Sister Megan, the two having a light giggle over stolen fries.

You couldn't help but draw parallels between the man on the screen and the man you had grown close to—the actor who had been nothing but kind, thoughtful, and, admittedly, a little flirtatious.

And then the scene change.

The camera panned across a dimly lit, sparsely furnished room. Your eyes narrowed, focusing in on the figure sitting at the edge of a bed.

It was Father Charlie—his broad, bare back flexing as he sat, hunched slightly. The room was silent except for his soft labored breathing.

You watch with growing confusion as his breathing deepens.

A soft sound escapes him—a low moan—and suddenly, the atmosphere in the room shifts entirely.

Your eyes widened upon realizing what you were seeing. Father Charlie is pleasuring himself.

The sounds of his quiet sighs fill the room, and you freeze as you try to process what you're watching.

The camera caught it all: the soft sighs, the slow measured pace of his hand, the quiet moans that grew more strained with every movement.

You felt your breath hitch, heat creeping up your neck as you watched too stunned to look away.

You know it's just a show—it's just acting—but seeing Nick, someone you know, in such an intimate and vulnerable moment...it shakes you.

Your body feels hot, heart pounding as Father Charlie quickens his pace, his breath becoming more erratic, moans growing louder.

A strange warmth unfurled in your chest that you immediately tried to suppress.

It felt wrong to watch this—wrong to feel anything about it.

Your fingers tremble as you reach for your laptop, the desire to pause or stop the episode battling with the inexplicable pull to keep watching.

And then it changed again.

The camera cuts to him standing at a basin, his back to the facing you once again, the muscles in his back flexing under the low light.

You blink rapidly as he begins to wash his hands, the sound of the water almost deafening in the silence.

That's when you notice it—the chaps. He's wearing bottomless chaps, the skin of his thighs and backside completely bare.

"Sweet baby Jesus," you whisper, hands shaking as you press a hand to your mouth in attempt to contain the heat that spreads across your face.

It wasn't over.

Father Charlie moved toward a small wooden box, opening it with a reverence that made your stomach twist.

He reached inside and pulled out a flogging whip—a thick, multi-tailed instrument of punishment.

His expression is solemn, his lips moving in silent prayer as he prepares the whip, his fingers brushing reverently over the strips before raising the instrument of self-punishment.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch, unable to tear your eyes away as Father Charlie strikes himself.

The sharp crack of the whip fills the room and you flinch at the sound.

Each lash is deliberate. His body jerks with every strike, a soft grunt escaping him with every hit.

His whispered prayers mix with the sounds of his punishment, the intensity of the scene almost unbearable as it goes on, each crack of the whip sending a shiver down your spine.

It's too much. You couldn't take it anymore.

Your hand shot out, scrambling to close the laptop with a thud. For a moment you couldn't move.

Your body felt both heavy and weightless at the same time, suspended in the strange space between what you knew and what you had just witnessed.

The room around you suddenly felt too small, too close.

Shakily, you brush a few stray strands of hair from your damp forehead, trying to steady yourself.

You were a pastor—dedicated to God, to the people you served. You weren't supposed to feel like this.

Closing your eyes tightly, you try to will the feeling to go away and dissipate like the smoke from the candles you had blown out earlier in the church.

But the heat in your face, the trembling in your hands, didn't fade.

You felt as though you had been thrust into a battle between your devotion to God and the temptation of something far more dangerous—something you could no longer ignore.

The dim screen of your phone in your peripheral catches your attention.

Hesitant, you picked it up, and your stomach drops at the sight of Nicholas's message.

Nick: What do you think?

180 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 10 months ago

Text

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away.

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

. . .

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.”

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

. . .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

. . .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual. So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

. . .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

. . .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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