#Catch me next Friday just sitting at the bar staring deep into my drink like I've been through the ringer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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ALL IS FAIR

a/n: woohoo!! finally a harry fic! lol sorry i got very into marvel these past weeks but im finally bringing you some harry content! this one was originally requested by an anon sometime and then we kept talking about it until i actually got around to write it! hopefully you’ll like it and if you do, please like and reblog!

pairing: ceo!Harry x ceo!plussize!reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 16.7k

masterlist

“Stop being such a stuck up dick, it’s your birthday, bro!”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend who walks into his penthouse as if he owned. Niall Horan was so well-known in Harry’s building that he could have easily walked into any homes in the tower and people would still welcome him warmly. It might have a few things to do with the fact that half of the residents in the Compass Tower are women who are hopelessly in love with either Niall or Harry, hoping for a chance to drag either of them into their bed one day. They have a lot more chance to do that with the Irish bloke than with Mr. Styles. Not that Harry doesn’t find them attractive, but he is not the type to have one night stands, something his friend gives him quite a lot of shit for.

“Would you fuck off for twenty more minutes?” Harry sighs, shooting him a look as he covers the speaker of his phone, in the middle of a call.

“You have ten minutes and we are leaving. I’m not letting you work on the night of your thirtieth birthday!” Niall warns him before walking into the kitchen to roam the always full, neatly stocked fridge.

As much as Niall Horan comes off as an irresponsible cocky child, he is quite the businessman himself as well. As the Lawyer of one third of New York’s most influential people, he surely doesn’t have to worry about making a living, enjoying his luxurious apartment a few streets away from Harry’s place on the Upper East Side. It’s not as expensive and impressive as Harry’s penthouse on the top of the tower his father built in the heart of the posh neighborhood most people only know from TV shows, but he couldn’t complain.

“Another designer refused to sign with us, H. We are running out of options,” Lambert’s voice rings through the phone as Harry turns to the floor to ceiling window, staring out to the city skyline in front of him.

“We have quite a few left, right?” Harry asks clenching his jaw.

“Yeah, but I heard that Cometa is planning on announcing something big next week so I think a lot of them are waiting for that to happen.”

“Do you think it’s another collab? But they just had fucking Chanel have a line sold through them!” Harry growls, his blood boiling at even just the thought.

When it comes to fashion in the virtual world, there are two businesses that totally dominate the industry. In the men’s wear, Twisted is definitely the number one selling place. The idea started off as just a freshman school project that originally wanted to sell tech stuff, but a few years into the project Harry met Lambert who was already a rising star in the fashion industry and they joined forces, creating the most classic yet affordable and user friendly online empire: Twisted. Though Twisted mostly features men’s clothing, they’ve been trying to venture to the field of women’s fashion, but it hasn’t been as easy as they thought it to be. And the reason for that is Cometa.

Cometa was originally a website where anyone could sell their own clothes, make their online wardrobe sale. But eventually the business grew itself out and stepped up a few levels, collaborating with various designers and brands, selling exclusive lines and a highly praised seasonal variety four times a year, earning a well-deserved top spot in the online fashion industry. It’s hard to compete with what Julia Bianchi built up through sweat and blood and Harry Styles has been working on stepping up to be a major competition for Cometa in women’s fashion, with not much luck so far.

To top the cake with a delicious looking cherry, Cometa has been trying to set feet into men’s fashion as well in the recent years, bringing out several lines with some mentionable designers, but they never made it be as big as Twisted. The two businesses have been trying to outdo each other for about a decade now, with not much luck so far and Harry’s patience is running low by now.

“I don’t know what it is, but keep an eye out. I’ll call you on Monday, alright?” Lambert sighs through the line.

“Okay, thank you,” Harry nods, feeling a little defeated.

“And happy birthday, man. Go and celebrate!” he chuckles, making Harry’s lips curl up as well.

“Thanks, have a good weekend,” Harry bids his goodbye before the call ends.

Wandering into the kitchen Harry finds Niall with the thickest ham and cheese sandwich between his hands, sitting at the kitchen island.

“So where exactly are we going tonight?” he asks, grabbing himself a granola bar as he joins the Irish lad on the stool next to him.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he grins, mouth full as he chews mercilessly. Harry grimaces, not sure how this is the same man who can convince a judge about basically anything, wearing his designer suits, putting on an intimidating and serious act for his cases.

“I have a switch,” Niall once told him when he asked how he does it. “I just turn it off when I’m off the clock.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Harry informs him matter-of-factly, but Niall doesn’t seem to be bothered by his comment.

“You’re thirty now, no one cares what you hate.”

“Says who?” Harry huffs.

“Me,” he grins, making Harry roll his eyes.

The bass is throbbing, red tinted lights illuminating the exclusive bar in the heart of Manhattan where Niall chose to gather some of Harry’s close friends to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. Sitting in the leather couches at a restricted area at the back of the place, they are hidden enough not to draw too much attention to themselves but still feel like they are part of the party.

“Cheers to three decades of this cocky motherfucker!” Niall beams as their glasses meet in the middle, everyone laughing and wishing Harry a happy birthday before they all chug their drinks.

Harry is not necessarily the type of person to enjoy going out too often, but he admits it’s been a while since the last time he let loose. It feels nice to have the evening to himself, leaving the business behind for just a couple of hours before he returns to his busy everydays.

Though the occasion is Harry’s birthday, Niall is surely enjoying the evening a tad bit more than his friend. After Harry sees him send down three tequilas in a row he realizes it’s not gonna end well if he doesn’t get some water into his system as well. Excusing himself from the group he heads to the bar, pushing his way through the dancing bodies until he finally reaches his destination.

Given how it’s a Friday evening, the place is packed and he waits in the line patiently while the bartender is fixing up the order of a group of girls a few stools down from Harry. Leaning onto the counter Harry runs his gaze over the dancing crowd, tapping his fingers against the surface to the beat, even bopping his head a little when he feels a push from behind him.

“Oh, sorry!” A female voice calls out and as he turns around he spots the owner of it, a young woman, her curvy body wrapped in a tight mini dress that leaves very little to Harry’s imagination as his eyes run up and down her figure. He has never seen a curvy girl as confident as her, she is radiating, drawing every male’s attention to herself like she is feeding off the hungry stares and dirty thoughts birthed by her.

Her eyes meet Harry’s gaze and the sly smirk that tugs on her perfectly shaped lips gives it away that she is not that sorry to be bumping into him.

“No worries,” is all he manages to say, the urge to drop to his knees right then and there stronger than anything he has ever had to fight.

“He won’t notice you,” she tells him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The bartender. If you just stand there like that… he will never come here,” she explains.

“I’m not sure I have what catches his eyes,” he jokes, making her laugh and he swears his stomach drops at the heavenly sound.

“May I?” she arches an eyebrow and Harry nods, letting her step in front of him. He stands tall above her, eyes fixed on her figure as she leans onto the counter, the marble pushing her breasts up just enough to spark the bartender’s fantasies when he glances in her way. She waves at him with a charming smile and a moment later the guy is standing in front of her, ready to please her in any way she desires.

“Three vodka sodas and…” she turns in Harry’s way, her lips slightly parted and his breath hitches in his throat. “What did you want, handsome?”

“Just, uhh—Just two water, please.”

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t comment on it, just adds the two water to her order. The bartender nods and disappears to fix up her drinks. Harry takes a deep breath and sticking his hand out to her he introduces himself.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” She takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you here alone?”

“Um, no. I’m here with a few friends,” he replies nodding towards the back of the place. “Are you here with someone?”

Please don’t say your boyfriend, please!

“A few of my girlfriends,” she smiles, brushing her hair over her shoulder, flaunting a better look at her naked neck and just one glimpse is sending a whirl of dirty thoughts into Harry’s mind. He wonders how soft her skin would feel under his lips, what her moans would sound as he sucks on it, leaving a mark on her, letting every man in the house know that he made her feel good.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” Y/N asks, a knowing smile on her lips as she most definitely saw Harry staring at her.

“Actually, yeah,” he chuckles a little nervously. “It’s my birthday.” Y/N’s eyes brighten up as she beams at him.

“Really? Happy birthday then!”

“Thank you,” he smiles shyly. “Are you guys celebrating something too?”

“Well, I…” she starts, her thoughts wandering off for a second before she continues. “I kind of got promoted,” she explains and Harry smiles down at her warmly.

“Congrats then!”

The bartender returns with the drinks and she is already about to get her card from her little clutch when Harry pulls his card out, handing it over to the guy behind the bar.

“Birthday boys shouldn’t pay for others,” she smirks, but doesn’t try to fight him that hard.

“You can pay me back later,” Harry shrugs with a suggestive smirk on his lips. He doesn’t want to part ways with her, but she is obviously expected to be back with her friends and he needs to get back to Niall as well before he absolutely loses control. Stepping closer to him, Y/N slides a hand up his chest, her palm resting at the base of his neck as she leans to his ear.

“Save me a dance, birthday boy?” she murmurs into his ear, her lips brushing against him for a split second before she steps back, grabs her drinks and winking at him one last time she disappears from the bar. Harry stands there for a few more seconds before the bartender hands him back his card and snatching the waters from the bar he heads back to his friends.

Luckily, Niall is slowing down a little, The water does him well and Harry finally doesn’t feel like he’ll have to take care of him, dragging him home once the night is over. Sitting by the table Harry is trying to focus on the conversation, but his gaze keeps wandering over to the dance floor, looking for one particular curvy figure in the sea of dancing bodies.

It takes him some time to spot her, but when he does, he is not able to tear his eyes away from her.

She is almost perfectly in the middle with her friends surrounding her, lips and shoulders swaying to the rhythm perfectly. He catches her chug down the last sips of her drink before she disregards the glass and gets back to dancing. Watching her every move intently, Harry feels his lips slightly part at the sight of this angel who is for sure a devil in the sheets. He can’t stop himself fantasizing about what it would feel like to dig his fingers into her thighs, kiss her neck, her cleavage that’s on show now, how her curves would fit into his hands perfectly. He wants to praise this woman, make her feel good and not just because he wants to be selfless and please her, but also because seeing this woman reach her high because of him would be the biggest ego boost for him and he just needs that.

“Go dance with her!” Niall wiggles his eyebrows at him when he catches Harry staring at her.

“What? No, I’m not a dancer,” he shakes his head, shifting his eyes away from the dancing goddess on the dance floor.

“Oh come on, don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a pussy, I just—“

“You’re a pussy. I saw her looking in your way as well, she wants your dick!”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry whines rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when he gets so vulgar, but luckily no one heard their conversation. Glancing back in Y/N’s way Harry sees how men are eyeing him, probably building up the courage to go up to her and that has his blood boiling. He needs to be the one to touch her.

Chugging down the rest of his drink he snaps the glass on the table before standing from his seat, ignoring Niall’s cheering as he makes his way into the crowd.

Harry didn’t lie when he said he is not a dancer, he feels uncomfortable, awkward and uncoordinated most of the times he tries to dance, but he is pushing all of those to the back of his mind for now as his eyes are set on one person in the crowd.

When Y/N spots the man approaching her, she can’t push a pleased smile off her lips, slowing her movements down as Harry finally reaches her, leaning closer to her ear so she can hear his voice over the music.

“Here to collect that dance,” he smugly tells her, making her laugh, though the music is too loud to let him hear her. She just nods and turning around she presses herself up against him, her backside fitting his front perfectly. Harry’s hand snake around her waist, his large palm smoothly moving through the silky fabric of her dress as they start moving together.

She is intoxicating, makes Harry feel like he is some kind of horny teenager, like he hasn’t dealt with women before, but in a way, she makes all of his past flings appear to be only girls. Her confidence in her own body is easily one of her best traits, the way she handles herself, moves her body, the look in her eyes, Harry is getting drunk on just watching her and now he is able to touch her as well.

When he feels himself getting hard in his pants, he knows he should be at least a slightly bit embarrassed by himself, but as Y/N turns around in his arms and he sees the pleased smirk on her lips, the feeling vanishes in a heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him close, her lips brushing against his lips.

“Enjoying yourself, birthday boy?” she prompts before pressing a kiss to the soft skin under his ear and he can’t hold a growl back. The friction is almost unbearable, as his hands slide lower on her back, stopping on her ass, he knows he won’t be able to control himself any longer. Luckily, he is not the only one having this inner fight.

Snapping around Y/N grabs his hand and starts pulling him through the crowd towards the hallway of the bathrooms. He follows her eagerly, lucky for them, the club doesn’t have restrooms with several stalls, but single bathrooms with a lot more comfort and privacy. Just what they need right now.

They find the third bathroom empty, pushing their way inside and locking the door before Harry pushes her up against it the moment it’s just the two of them, their mouths hungrily meeting in the middle. He almost grunts against her lips, she tastes even better than he imagined and the way her tongue is the first one to come into action has got his mind blown. His hands roam up her body, running up all her curves until they reach her face and he cups it in his palms, pressing his hips against her. She moans against his mouth when his hard cock pokes against her, both of them desperate to take it further.

Tumbling further into the small bathroom, he helps her up to the counter next to the sing, her legs instantly opening for him, her tiny dress rolling up her thighs, revealing her clothed sex. Harry eagerly kisses his way down her neck and chest, her skin feeling so smooth under his lips. His fingers hook under the thin straps of her dress, tugging them down so he can push the dress past her full breasts and thank God she is not wearing a bra underneath!

“Fuck me, you are so hot!” he breathes out, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she cockily answers before Harry’s mouth attaches to her nipple, his hand working on her other breasts before he switches.

He quickly gets down on his knees, pushing her underwear to the side before his lips and tongue meet her sensitive clit.

“Oh shit!” she moans, a hand coming to tangle in his hair while she tries to hold herself steady with leaning on the other one behind her. There’s no time for teasing now and they both know that.

She is so lost in the experience, Harry is licking and sucking just the right spots and she tries to close her legs, locking his head between her thighs. His arms come to curl around them, ring clad fingers digging into her flesh and the situation might be a little suffocating for him, but he doesn’t mind it a bit. In fact, if he died this way, he would die a happy man.

She doesn’t let him finish what he started, pulling him up, his lips still glistening from her own juices as she kisses him messily, wiggling herself out of her underwear while he undoes his pants as well.

“Shit, do you have a condom?” he breathes out when his palm wraps around his throbbing cock. She nods, reaching for her clutch she dropped to the counter and digging into it she grabs the package, smacking it against his chest playfully. “Were you planning to do this tonight?” he grins cockily as he rips the package open and starts rolling it down his hard length.

“No, I’m just smart, unlike you,” she retorts, her sass dripping from her tone and it just riles him up even more.

Grabbing her thighs he yanks her to the edge of the counter, a gasp leaving her plump lips as she tries to find her balance quickly.

“Don’t be a brat,” he growl against her lips before kissing her, while he lines himself up with her, the head already pushing in.

“Then fuck me, birthday boy,” she challenges him again and it’s the last straw.

Harry slams into her, both of them moaning at the sensation before he starts thrusting in a fast pace, needing all the friction he can make to get them to finish as soon as possible. Y/N’s head falls back as she holds onto the back of his neck, her other hand on the counter behind her again and Harry glances down, watching her breasts bounce every time he rails into her, slamming his whole length into her every time their hips meet.

She reaches for one of his hands that’s holding her thigh and she boldly brings it to her core, tapping his fingers to her clit, letting him know that she wants some extra effort. Harry doesn’t say it, but he is blown how she didn’t just do it herself, she made him do it. It’s got to be one of the hottest things he has ever seen.

“Fuck, go harder!” she gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist as he picks the pace up, feeling his orgasm building rapidly with each thrust.

They both are a whimpering, moaning mess, the bass of the music is thumping outside and for a moment, Harry feels like he is finally living his life to the fullest.

“I’m gonna cum!” she breathes out, his name falling from her lips moaning after that and when she pulls him down to kiss him, biting into his bottom lip and tugging it, he loses himself.

He feels himself jerking inside her, still sliding in and out of her as he grunts, releasing himself into the condom. He flicks his fingers on her clit at the same time, creating just enough friction to push her over the edge as well. He is coming off his own high when her walls tighten around his cock, dragging his orgasm out even longer as she basically screams, gasping for air, riding her orgasm out to the last bit.

Leaning down he kisses her again though they are still panting, this time making it a lot less rushed than the time their lips met for the first time. Her legs fall from around his waist and he pulls out, both of them cleaning themselves up in the aftermath of their little session.

“I know this was quite rushed and all that, but can I have your number?” he asks, even feeling a little nervous. She puts her underwear back on, smoothing her dress down as she smiles up at him, cupping his face in her palm.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to skip on that,” she tells him simply, shocking him for sure.

“D-Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” she shakes her head and now Harry is confused.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” he then asks, trying his best to figure out the reason behind the rejection.

“I did. But it was a one time thing. If it’s supposed to turn into more…” she sighs, grabbing her clutch from the counter. “Then I’ll leave it to fate if we ever meet again,” she shrugs before turning around she just unlocks the door and walks out, leaving Harry stand there in complete and utter shock.

This is definitely a first for him, a woman who doesn’t want to see him again. He is not that egoistic to think that everyone is in love with him, but he never had an encounter similar to this. Not after the most amazing sex ever.

Harry fixes himself up, still not believing she walked out that easily, but there’s not much he can do now. Walking back to his table, he acts like nothing happened and when his eyes scan over the crowd again, he can’t see her anymore.

Harry lets out a tired sigh when Zayn, head of the graphic design department walks into his office with a familiar brown paper bag with the logo of Harry’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Has it started already?” Zayn asks, though glancing at the big screen on the wall he can see the stream is still waiting to be started.

“No, I’ve been staring at it for like twenty minutes,” Harry grumbles, pushing himself away from his desk to join Zayn on the couch in front of the screen as he unpacks the food. “What do you think it’s going to be?”

Today is the day of Cometa’s big press conference and no one knows what they are about to announce. It’s been keeping Harry on the edge for the past few days, because whatever it is, it has got to be major. Julia Bianchi is not the type of person to hold press conferences, she is a private person who has managed to keep most of her life behind closed doors. That’s something Harry admires in the woman even though they are competitors in the business. He can relate to wanting to keep her life just for herself, he has been doing the same thing. No public appearances, no lengthy interviews, no photoshoots. He likes to let his work talk for himself and it’s proved to be a successful move so far.

“I don’t know, but I hope they don’t suddenly announce a full graphic makeover right before our update,” Zayn chuckles. He has been working on an entirely new appearance for the website these past weeks and it’s supposed to go live sometime later in the month. A change for Cometa would totally throw their attempt off, making them look like they are just copying Julia’s move.

They eat and wait for the stream to start when the screen finally comes alive. There’s an empty stage shown with just two mic stands in the middle and nothing really happens for a few minutes before clapping is heard from behind the camera and Julia finally walks on the stage.

The woman is a real diva. Wearing a matching pant suit with bold floral print all over it, her short hair is neatly straightened into a bob cut, her red lips smiling lightly as she waves around in the room. Julia has been in the fashion industry for almost three decades now and she surely made a name for herself, sitting front row in every fashion show she attends, her words on any new trend being basically the standard.

Stepping to one of the mics, she clears her throat as the clapping dies down and her calm, gentle voice rings through the speakers.

“Welcome, everyone, thank you for coming, as you might already know I’m Julia Bianchi, head of Cometa, the world’s best online women’s fashion house.”

Harry leans back in his seat, eyes fixed on the woman on the screen as he is patiently waiting to hear what she’s got for the people this time.

“I’ve spent twenty-seven wonderful years in the business, building my own one for the past two decades. I fell in love with fashion as a child and moved to Milan to study designing from the bests. Though designing has always and will always hold a special place in my heart, I saw an opportunity in the early years for a brand that would hold together every other brand in the industry, bringing it to everyone’s home thanks to the rapidly developing technology. Cometa has always been my little baby and I’m proud of everything I achieved as head of such a great company.”

Harry realizes what it’s about before Julia could even say the words herself. The phrasing, the nostalgic tone, it’s all adding up to the obvious: Julia is about to announce her retirement.

“I gave the best years of my life for this company and I regret nothing, but recently I’ve realized that it is time for me to slow down for a little bit and enjoy a life that’s not filled with work anymore, and spend more time with my beloved husband, Fabio and my family who supported me on my long way here. Therefore, I am now announcing it with an aching heart and a lot of excitement as well that I am stepping down from my role as CEO of Cometa. I might be leaving now, but my business will not. So it is a pleasure to introduce you the person who will carry my legacy on, my amazing niece, the absolutely most perfect woman to carry on the work I started, Y/N Y/L/N.”

The moment another woman comes into the picture Harry almost chokes on his own saliva, seeing the same curves he had his fingers dug into last Friday. Y/N smiles and waves around as she steps to the other mic next to her aunt, exchanging a short look with her before turning towards the people in the room and the camera that’s streaming the event.

“Dude, you alright?” Zayn asks, patting Harry’s back a few times as he is still struggling to breathe normally.

He refuses to accept that the woman he fucked in a bathroom on his birthday, the one that made him moan like never before, is the same woman who is going to take over his biggest competitor.

“This has got to be a joke,” he breathes out with teary eyes from all the coughing.

“It is an honor to be here,” Y/N starts speaking as the clapping dies down once again and the two men are staring at the screen. “Just like to be the one to step into the perfectly stylish shoes of my aunt. I hope to live up to not just her and everyone else’s expectations, but also to mine as well. I grew up watching my aunt build up this empire with basically dust so to be the person to take her place is a dream come true. I promise to keep the quality the same and work on improving Cometa to its possible best while being in charge.”

As she finishes talking, questions are thrown in her way, but Harry doesn’t pay attention any longer. Standing up he walks to the window, staring out to the city as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“What the fuck is your problem, H? It wasn’t as bad as we expected, right?” Zayn questions.

“It’s fucking worse!” he snaps turning around. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that… I told you about what… happened on my birthday.”

“The bathroom fuck, oh yeah,” Zayn chuckles with a playful shine in his eyes.

“Well, that woman… the woman I fucked was her.” Zayn stays silent for a moment before he turns towards the screen, eyeing the woman on the stage as she is still answering questions, standing confidently in her tight, black dress and red heels.

“You fucked Julia Bianchi’s niece? And she is now taking over Cometa?” he raises his eyebrows at Harry who just nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “And she is also the one who didn’t give you her number?”

“Don’t… bring that up. But yes, it’s her.”

Zayn starts laughing, clearly finding Harry’s misery entertaining, but Harry doesn’t feel like taking it that easy. He wonders if she knew who he was, if she did it on purpose or it was fate’s horrible joke on both of them.

“Ah man, that charity event on Saturday will be one hell of a show then!” Zayn points it out and Harry’s face falls. He totally forgot about the charity event he was invited to, one that would have the biggest names in the fashion industry together in a ball room to raise money for a chosen good cause. It happens every year and it’s a major event, the perfect place to network and also to see your biggest enemies. That means that Harry will see Y/N again in a few short days and if he is being honest… he is not ready to face her, not after the information he learned today. Sighing he steps to the minibar he insisted on having in his office and though he never drinks during the day, he now thinks that now might be an exception. He pours himself some whiskey and before he chugs it down at one go, he lets out a long, tired sigh.

“That’s just my luck…”

Leslie helps you with the zipper of your dress, the silky, red fabric hugging your body like a second skin. She smoothes the wrinkles out while you fix the straps, staring back at yourself in the mirror with judgment. You need to look perfect, this is going to be your first time appearing at an event as CEO of Cometa, your big entrance into the industry, you can’t let anything go wrong.

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Leslie smiles at you, bringing your hair behind your shoulders as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. Leslie might be your assistant, but she is a lot more than that. You’ve been friends for almost a decade and when she lost her job a few years ago you didn’t hesitate to offer her a spot next to you. You wouldn’t be here without her, she doesn’t try to use her privilege of being your friend to not do the work, she is always on top of her game and you’ll always be grateful for her to not make it awkward at all.

“I think you need some diamonds though,” she winks at you, stepping to the table where all kinds of jewelry is sprawled out. She reaches for a simple one, not too much, quite elegant and you nod as she holds it up for you. Walking behind you she brings it around your neck, the diamond brilliantly sitting on your chest now, giving that little extra shine to your outfit.

“You’ll make every man fall in love with you,” she smiles at you and breathing out you nod, hoping to believe that everything will go perfectly.

While you make a few last minute calls she gets dressed as well before the car arrives for the two of you. She is wearing a less daring but still beautiful black dress, her curly hair pinned up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her heavily freckled face bright from her happy smile as the two of you make your way to the event.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I tried to memorize the faces and names from the guest list,” she grins at you, earning an eyeroll.

“Les, I told you, this is not The Devil Wears Prada,” you chuckle softly. She is obsessed with that movie and hasn’t shut up about feeling like she is literally living in it since your aunt has shared her plans with you about your future position last year.

“I know, but it might be impressive if you already knew everyone!”

You have to give that to her, it would earn you a few good points if you knew the names already, you’re just still nervous about the whole thing. So many things could go wrong and you want it to be perfect.

At first you feel intimidated by all the influential people around you. Everyone here is one of the bests in their own field and you feel like an impostor, but then you remind yourself that you earned your spot. Your aunt wouldn’t have given you the company if she didn’t trust you entirely with it. You worth no less than anyone else in this ball room and that reminds you that… you’re that bitch.

Leslie’s knowledge of names actually comes handy. You love seeing people get shocked when they try to introduce themselves to you, but you already greet them saying their names. It earns you some appreciative looks as you make your way around the room. Everything is going smooth, right until you spot one particular man in the crowd.

You’re in a little circle with a few designers when your gaze falls on Harry who is standing across the room, talking to two men. The champagne almost slips from your hand when you realize it’s him.

“Leslie,” you grab her wrist catching her attention. “Les, who’s the man in the blue Gucci suit?” you ask in a whisper and she follows your gaze, finding the man in talk.

“Oh, that’s Harry Styles, head of Twisted.”

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and head out to the balcony to get some fresh air before you faint right on the spot.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leslie follows you.

“I messed up,” you squeak as you step outside, the chilly evening air hitting your uncovered skin immediately. “I messed up big time!”

“What? Why? What happened?”

Stepping to the edge, you wrap your hands around the railing, staring out into the void for a moment. Leslie Stands beside you, quite puzzled about your sudden panic.

“Remember the guy I told you about from Friday night?” you ask, keeping your voice down even though there’s no one really around. Leslie nods. “Well… he was the guy.”

Leslie glances back inside and then at you before her eyes widen and lips part in shock.

“You fucked Harry Styles at a club’s bathroom?!” she whisper-yells at you and you feel like a teenager who is getting scolded.

“I didn’t know who he was! And I genuinely think he didn’t know me either, how could he?! But now he is here and… Oh God, this is so bad,” you whine, your head dropping backwards as you let out a frustrated growl.

“Okay, don’t panic. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t remember you.”

“You can’t make me believe he doesn’t remember me after fucking me on a counter,” you tell her giving her a look.

“Alright, alright. Then… you just have to suck it up. It’s not like you can unfuck him,” she shrugs and though you know she is right, you just wish you could leave right now.

You never planned on seeing him again. Your bullshit speech about letting fate decide it was just an excuse to not give him your number. You didn’t want to because you thought he is not the kind of man that would be good for you. From his look you thought that he was either a fuckboy, not willing to commit to anything serious, or the kind of man that seems all nice and respectful at first but then turns out to be a total asshole and you’ve had enough of those in your twenty-eight years.

Soon enough you head back as the auction is about to start. Luckily, your seat is far away from Harry and it seems like he hasn’t noticed you yet. Though you wish to keep it that way, you can feel it coming already.

The auction goes by fast, you buy a new painting that will look amazing in your living room and almost twice as much money is raised through the evening that was the goal. You leave Leslie behind at the table as you go to the bar to get yourself another drink, probably your last one of the evening if you don’t want to end up making a fool out of yourself.

Patiently waiting at the bar you’re already thinking about watching Grey’s Anatomy when you get back and out of this tight dress. You look hot, but it’s not the comfiest look, if you’re being honest. There’s only one more person in front of you when you feel a little tap on your shoulder and turning around your stomach drops when you see the man you’ve been trying to avoid all evening.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” he nods shortly, his expression is quite blank, but he is definitely not shocked to see you. You tighten your jaw before looking away from him, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You don’t seem surprised,” you point out.

“I was kind of expecting to see you here tonight.”

“So you knew who I was all along?” you snap at him, but he shakes his head.

“Not until the stream this week. I was pretty shocked when you walked on stage.”

Nodding shortly you brush your hair over your shoulder and you catch Harry glimpsing down your body, but decide not to comment on it.

“Did you know who I was?” he then asks, digging his hands into his pockets.

“No, I wouldn’t sleep with my biggest competitor willingly.”

“Just from the abrupt ending I had a feeling that you might have known me.”

“Just because a woman doesn’t throws herself into your arms after a fuck, doesn’t mean she had ulterior motives,” you scoff. “Get off your high horse,” you add before turning back towards the bar so you can order your drink. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t want the conversation to end just yet. His hand is laid flat on the counter in front of you as he stands on your right, a little too close to your liking. You can smell the expensive cologne on him, the same that hit your nose on Friday as well and suddenly your body is betraying you.

However crazy the situation is, you can’t deny that he gave you one of the best times last Friday. Men you dealt with were more concerned about their own pleasure and most of them didn’t even get you to finish. But Harry made it happen so fast and didn’t even bitch about it when you made him rub your clit. He just obeyed like a grownup man who is willingly take care of his partner. That almost made you change your mind about leaving, but once you came down from cloud nine, you returned to your original plan.

But not as he is standing in front of you and you can smell him, your senses trick you into thinking that you’re in that bathroom again, almost aching for him to touch you the way he did then. He leans closer to your ear as he speaks up again.

“Leave the drink, dance with me,” he tells you as the bartender places your drink in front of you. You debate what to do before grabbing the drink and chugging it down in one go. You’ll need the alcohol if you are about to dance with your enemy.

Harry takes you to the dance floor in the middle of the ball room, one of his hands finds the small of your back while the other takes your hand as the two of you start swaying to the gentle music played by the band.

“Your aunt set my company back in women’s fashion every time I tried to take a step forward. Are you going to do the same?”

“She didn’t do anything to set you back but to build her own company. Not everything is about you.”

“You sound a little naïve, Love. It’s pretty clear you are new in the business.” This statement riles you up big time. How dare he degrade you like that? He knows nothing about you, yet he assumes things that are not at all real.

Smirking to yourself you lean back enough so your gazes can meet. Your hand slides up from his shoulders to the base of his neck so your fingers can gently brush against his skin and you notice the shudder than runs down his spine. He is not the only one having flashbacks from your last encounter.

“Wanna know what I know about business?” you purr, his eyes glued to your red lips as you speak. “I know that… Twisted was one of the last sites to participate in personalized ads on online platforms, failing to reach it’s targeted audience as fast as literally everyone else. I know that your company and my company use the same security system in our server rooms yet I can assure you that it cost me twenty percent less because we waited a month before installing it and got a huge last minute discount because the security company was trying to boost their numbers for their end of year closing. And I also happen to know that you are working on a new design for your website that could easily be outshone if I just did the same before you could do it.”

Harry’s lips part, probably mostly at the last information. He has no idea how you know these stuff, but you have a wide circle of connections in the city, you have an insider at every big companies in the industry without them even knowing. You’ve given countless tips to your aunt through the years, that’s how she managed to stay on top of her games.

Leaning closer your lips almost brush against him and you see how he weakens, he is expecting you to kiss him and he wants it. But you just smile at him, your eyes snapping down to his lips before up to his eyes.

“I will not do the same as my aunt, Harry,” you softly speak, your fingers grazing the back of his neck. “I will do way worse things.”

And with that, you slip out of his arms and walk back to your table, leaving him standing there alone at a complete loss of words.

“What the fuck had gotten into you?” Niall grimaces upon hearing everything he told you on the evening of the charity event. And quite frankly, Harry has no answer to that. He has absolutely no idea what had gotten into him to act like such a dick when you didn’t do anything against him.

The situation just messed with his head, seeing you in that breathtaking dress, mingling with everyone, smiling and laughing, oh how he wished you were laughing on his jokes! But then you seemed so tensed when he came up to you and something just switched in him. He wanted to take dominance, to somehow get out of it on top, but he miserably failed. When you brought up their plans to change the design he completely froze.

“No idea, okay? I just…lost it,” he growls, sinking into the couch. When Niall found out that Harry met the woman from the club again he insisted on coming over with some wine to talk it out, but he was not expecting this kind of story at all.

“Dude, you just put yourself on her radar big time, maybe she wouldn’t have even bothered to compete with you like her aunt did, but you surely changed her mind now.”

“I know, Niall!” Harry growls, not in the mood to be scolded like a little child. “Do you think she’ll change their design before we do?” he peeks at his friend, but Niall just shrugs.

“No idea, but I would try to speed it up before she actually does it.”

Harry made you into a ticking bomb and you successfully got under his skin about the whole design project so first thing the next morning he went to Zayn to discuss a possible earlier debut for the new designs. Though it would be a close stretch, they agreed that it would go live by the end of the week and that got Harry somehow a little relieved, but in the middle of that he failed to put the right amount of effort into finding designers for their female lines.

When he meets up with Lambert a few days later he is not there to deliver great news. Apparently, three out of the four designers they were negotiating with recently pulled out of their deal and signed a contract with Cometa.

“We have one last designer on the list, but then… we are out of the bigger names,” Lambert sighs as Harry chews on his bottom lip anxiously. He feels like he has fallen into a hole a while ago and instead of climbing out he is just digging it deeper underneath him.

“Okay, do we have an appointment with them?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her this afternoon.”

“I’m going with you,” he nods before standing from his chair and opening the door he calls out for his assistant. “Rebecca, please clear my schedule for this afternoon, I’ll be out of the office.”

Rebecca nods behind her desk, already starting to make calls about Harry’s meetings and appointments.

It’s obvious he is anxious about the meeting, because if it falls through they are forced to look for less known designers and that won’t bring the change for the company they’ve been seeking for a long time. Arriving to the showroom where the designer is working, Harry is setting his thoughts straight, determined to convince her to sign a contract with them. The two men are let into the building by the nice assistant working at the front desk and she shows the way to the showroom where Kennedy, the designer is waiting for them.

Harry is confident, he trusts his skills to make this happen, but when they walk inside he instantly freezes upon seeing an all too familiar figure standing with Kennedy

A maroon colored pantsuit is hugging your curves, a Hermés handbag hanging from your arm, your hair falling in loose curls. As if you could sense his presence, you peek over your shoulder, a devilish smirk on your lips when you see the shocked expression on Harry’s face.

“What a great surprise!” you beam, selling how happy you are to see him and in a way, you are. You wanted to see his face drop when he realizes you snatched yet another designer from him.

“Oh, Mr. Styles!” Kennedy smiles nicely at him and he finally snaps out of his trance, shaking hands with her and then turning to you, doing the same but in a lot colder manner.

“Y/N, nice to see you again,” he fakes a smile as your hand falls from his palm.

“I could say the same. But I’m heading out now. Great talk, Kennedy. I’ll be waiting for your call,” you wink at the young designer who seems to be thrilled by your words as she walks you to the exit.

“Fucking hell,” Harry mumbles under his breath and Lambert shoots him a look before Kennedy returns.

The three of them take a seat on the couches in the corner of the room and Harry is quick to get down to business, trying his best to make his offer appear more appealing than anything you told her right before their arrival. Kennedy listens intently, even takes notes and then she shows him some examples of what she was thinking about for her next line and Harry is beyond thrilled.

Unfortunately, soon comes the painful part.

“Harry, I’m gonna be honest with you,” Kennedy starts and Harry already knows what she is about to say. “Your offer is very tempting and it would be an honor to design a line for Twisted, but in my situation it would be more beneficial if I collaborated with Cometa. It is nothing against your company, it’s more about my personal path and growth.”

Harry can feel his stomach dropping and he clenches his jaw as he listens to Kennedy’s worth. He understands, of course he understands, she has the right to selfishly look at her own benefits upon signing with a new company, but he wished she would take the risk and chose his company instead of yours.

“I’m keeping the offer open for you still,” he forces a smile on his face. “If you change your mind, Twisted would be more than happy to work with you.”

Kennedy walks the two men out and the fake smile quickly vanishes from Harry’s face upon stepping out of the building.

“What are we going to do now?” Lambert asks, clearly worried about how they’re gonna move forward with their last chance falling.

“If Y/N wants a war, that’s what she’ll get,” Harry growls, revenge burning in the greens of his eyes.

It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, only hours left from the day before you are headed home finally. You’re sitting in your office with Leslie, going over next week’s schedule to make sure everything is set and clear.

It’s been almost an entire month since you stepped into your aunt’s shoes as head of the company and though the start was a little rough, especially with finding out who Harry was, but you feel like you have everything under your control by now. After all, you didn’t learn business for years from the bests for nothing, right?

Harry’s comment on you knowing nothing about the industry made you bitter, because he knows nothing about you and the struggle you went through your life to get to this point. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbow, being Julia’s niece might have been a hugely influencing aspect of you taking over, but you worked your ass off to be the best leader you can and not just ruin everything she built up through her whole life.

Though you didn’t always want to be the one following her, but you like to think that things worked out to your favor and you are where you should be.

“Alright, everything is looking fine,” Leslie smiles at you over her laptop. “I’ll send you the notes from today’s meeting.”

“Thank you. Can you call in with the delivery company about next month’s transactions?” you ask her and she nods, already adding it to her list of tasks for the rest of the day. “Alright. I’ll do the rest of the signings and then we can head out,” you smile at her.

Leslie is grabbing her things from the table when there’s a soft knock on the door. You give your permission and one of the tech support guys walk in with a worried look on his face.

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m afraid we have a problem,” he clears his throat and you can already feel your anxiety crawl up on your spine.

“What is it?” you ask firmly. The guy steps farther inside, fumbling with his fingers as he presents the issue.

“There’s been an attempt to break our software’s security system where we keep our data about the sellings. A-And I’m afraid it wasn’t just an attempt, they succeeded.”

You take a deep breath, glancing over at Leslie for a moment before you follow the man to the tech department to investigate the issue further. You don’t know shit about these stuff, but from what he said you know the trouble is huge and if you don’t solve it as soon as possible, valuable data could leak out to the public. They try to explain you what they are working on as of right now and that there’s not much you can actually help with.

“Make sure to put your extra hours on your attendance sheets and let me know when you are able to restore the system,” you tell them and you earn quite a few thank yous on your way out for actually paying the overtime. Then you turn to the guy that first came to your office. “Do you have any information about who it could have been?”

“We weren’t able to track them back, but whoever it was, they’re surely professionals and they might know the system from the inside.”

“What do you mean from the inside? Someone did it from the company?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together as you fold your arms on your chest.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We would have been able to track that back. I mean that they know the system, maybe they worked somewhere where the same one was used and they could see into it.”

It takes you a few moments before you realize what this really is and it has your blood boiling right away. Nodding shortly you exhale sharply through your nose.

“Thank you, please call me when it’s up and running again, I’ll take care of the rest,” you tell him before turning around you walk away.

When Leslie sees you approaching your office with a head practically turning red she is quick to jump to her feet, following you into the office.

“What’s happening?”

“Harry Styles, that’s what happening,” you snap as you grab your phone, purse and coat before heading out, not wasting another minute.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“To the devil himself,” you growl back and enter the elevator, leaving her alone with her questions.

Sitting in your car on your way to the headquarters of Twisted, you imagine every scenario you want to make happen when you arrive, most of them including hitting the man across his ridiculously handsome yet annoying face. He crossed a line with breaking into your system and stealing valuable data. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t dare to sell or publish it, because he would be in a big legal trouble if he did, he still had a glimpse into your numbers and that’s already an advantage. He is playing dirty and you’re not having any of it.

Arriving you burst through the doors and demand to see him. Though the woman behind the front desk tells you that you can’t see him without an appointment, you still get her to make a call up and naturally, Harry allows you to see him. The fucker might already have been waiting for you to show up. As you stand in the all glass elevator, on your way up to meet him you take a few deep breaths to keep your cool and not snap like a maniac, however it all vanishes when you see him waiting for you with that shit-eating grin on his face when you step out of the elevator.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go straight to the police with your little stunt, you fucker!” you snap, not able to hold back your swearing any longer.

“Do you have any evidence?” he tilts his head to the side and you don’t miss how his gaze runs down your body as you march towards him. You’d find it flattering in another situation, but right now you just want to punch him in the face.

“I’ll show some evidence down your throat, Styles, if you don’t stop messing with my security system,” you growl back, standing so close to him now that you see every tiny freckle and blemish on his face and the way how he clenches his jaw, holding his gaze on yours.

Without a word or invitation, you walk into the room that you suppose is his office and he follows with a soft chuckle.

“Did you hire a hacker just to mess with me?” you throw the question at him as he closes the door so his employees don’t hear everything.

“What if I did?” he shrugs, stepping to the tray on his desk that already has a glass of whiskey on it. He grabs the glass and simply lifts it to his lips, taking a tiny sip from it. “Oh, excuse my manners. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m driving,” you answer shortly. “You crossed a line, Harry,” you warn him.

“What line?” he chuckles, rather entertained by your rage. “After what you pulled with Kennedy, I think I went easy on you.”

“I didn’t pull anything, I just gave her a better offer! It’s not my fault she has better chances with my company!” you snap back, feeling your heartbeat fastening from the anger that’s boiling in your veins.

“You knew I wanted her to design for me, why couldn’t you just let one person out of your endless list? You already have everyone else, she was my last fucking chance!” Harry barks back, clearly having some built up tension in him as well.

“If you didn’t act like an arrogant asshole at the charity gala, I would have happily let you work with her, but then you felt the need to fucking degrade me! That’s why I didn’t let you get away with it!”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes his mouth, probably knowing well you’re right. He did act shitty towards you that evening and he has no excuse for his behavior. You walk closer until there are just a few feet between the two of you, your eyes glued to his burning green gaze that’s staring back at you, but before you could speak up, he cuts you off.

“Well, you know. All is fair in… war and business,” he shrugs and you honestly barely can stop yourself from laughing at how stupid that just sounded. You can’t miss the twitch in the corner of his mouth as well and you can’t believe how easily he made you break out of your rage.

“Don’t try to make money out of writing slogans,” you huff shaking your head and now he is grinning widely. “Do you have the data?”

“I don’t,” he answers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he chuckles. “I had it, but I already deleted it. I know it wasn’t ethical so as soon as it was handed to me I deleted it. I didn’t even look into it. I just wanted to scare you.”

“And how do I know your hacker doesn’t have it either?”

“Because he signed a contract that would cost him millions to break and I don’t think a junior in college who is still living in a dorm can afford that,” he points out and now you are somewhat convinced. You stare back at him for a few more seconds before nodding.

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, how does that sound?” you offer generously.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he questions with a smug smirk that makes your arch an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” he then asks and you can’t mask your surprise in front of him.

“That does not concern you, Styles,” you scoff, though it boosts your ego that even through all the hate you’ve been targeting at each other, he still wants you the same way he did at the club that evening. You can’t deny, this rivalry has sparked a few thoughts in you as well, but you are not going to fall into the same mistake you made that evening. You pay him another smirk before turning around and heading towards the door. “Stay out of my way, Styles!” you call back without looking at him, but you just know he is grinning at you, a growing sexual tension thickening the atmosphere in the room.

“Or what?” he smugly questions and you stop at the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“Or… You said it yourself. All is fair in war and business,” you smirk before walking out of the office.

Following your visit to Harry’s office things take a… playful turn in your rivalry. The attempts and competing don’t stop, both of you are on each other’s radar, ruining and messing with each other’s projects and works whenever and wherever it’s possible, but it’s not as hateful as it was at the beginning. If something, it even helps you to always be on your toes and watch out for possible threats, not just from Harry but from everyone else.

Neither of you succeeds in evolving in each other’s field, Cometa keeps thriving in women’s fashion with a quite small variety offered for the gentlemen while Twisted fails to grow out of men’s fashion and venture to the ladies, but somehow it’s not as frustrating as it used to be before.

Harry keeps up his flirty acts and tries to ask you out every time your paths cross each other, but you relentlessly turn him down every time, only fueling him to keep chasing after you more the next time. It’s a thrilling and flattering little game, knowing that even with all the rivalry between the two of you, being the biggest competitors in the business… he still wants you.

New York fashion week rolls around and it’s by far one of your favorite times in the year. You managed to snatch an exclusive deal with YSL to release a special line just for the fashion week and it sold out in the first two hours, now waiting to be restocked in a few days. Cometa is thriving and your aunt has expressed her pride towards the work you’ve been doing at the company, so things are heading the right direction.

You knew Harry would be attending the same shows as you, but it’s fate or just luck that you are seated next to each other at one of the shows, giving you the chance to talk without any of you attempting to corrupt the other this time.

Harry is already sitting in his seat when you arrive wearing a custom made Gucci dress, something that immediately catches his eyes since he is a huge fan of the brand himself.

“Your fashion sense never disappoints, Y/N,” he beams up at you as you take the seat next to him.

“Hope that’s not surprising, Styles,” You smirk at him, taking a glance at his own Gucci outfit, the checkered pants fitting him perfectly while the pussy bow adds some spice to the whole outfit, you have to admit. He looks good, he always does.

“Any plans after the show?” he asks right before the lights go out and the show starts. You leave him without an answer, just let out a soft chuckle as you glue your eyes to the first model who walks the runway.

Once the show is over you head out with Harry by your side, having an actually entertaining discussion about the designs you just saw. He might not be an expert in fashion, but he has developed a good sense through his years.

As you make your way out of the venue you are stopped by an interviewer and Harry remains on your side as the woman asks you a few questions about the show.

“I’ve always wondered, does it bother you that you couldn’t be on the runway yourself? You’ve been sitting front row the past years, but you once had aspirations of being a model yourself, is that right?”

The question makes you tense up and you can feel Harry’s puzzled look on you from the side.

“It’s not like it was my fault for not making it up there,” you sass back, forcing a smile to your face.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the woman chuckles and it has your blood boiling, because you know the real meaning behind her words.

It’s your fault you didn’t become a model because you were never thin enough to be one. It was your fault and not the industry’s to hold impossible standards to women who wanted to succeed as a model.

The smile falters from your face and you take a long, judgmental look at the woman in front of you. Because if she is brave enough to talk like that to you, you’re not gonna shy away from bringing her spirits down either.

“Judging from your appearance and attitude you wouldn’t make it either,” you spitefully reply and her smile quickly fades, clearly shocked at your answer. You open your mouth again, ready to continue, but then you feel a hand on the small of your back and you realize Harry is still standing next to you.

“Come on, we have somewhere to be, right?” he smiles kindly as you just simply nod and walk away from the woman before she could offend you again.

Harry senses your tension as the two of you leave the venue but doesn’t try to talk to you and that’s a wise choice from him. As you step out of the building you realize that if you went home now you’d probably get drunk on your own and let that comment get to you more than you should. So instead of doing that you turn to Harry.

“So, what are our plans?” you ask and you don’t miss the small smile on his lips as he stares back at you.

Not in the mood to stay around people at a bar you accept Harry’s invitation to his place, since it’s also close. The contrast between his extravagant penthouse and your cozy but still quite modern townhouse in Park Slope is major, but you didn’t expect anything less from the man.

You’ve managed to calm down since you left the venue, but you’re still quite bitter about the comment the woman made. Harry hasn’t tried to ask you about it, but you can tell he is dying to know more about the situation that’s behind the madness.

He fixes you a drink and you find yourself sinking into his comfortable and probably ridiculously expensive couch in his living room area.

“I used to want to be a model,” you start, breaking the silence that settled between the two of you. “When I was a teen. I was a lot thinner, I was a competitive dancer until I was seventeen, but I had a knee injury, so I had to quit.”

Harry sits on the other end of the couch, listening to you with patience as he sips on his own drink.

“I was never as thin as the other models at the agency I was trying to get into, but I definitely wasn’t overweight. Yet, they labelled me as a plus size model. I was a healthy, strong young girl with a perfectly good body, yet they told me that I was too fat to be a model.”

Glancing at Harry, you can tell that he is surprised at the information he just learned. He is probably picturing you thinner now, going to model castings and if you’re being honest you enjoyed that part. The trouble came when you got rejection after rejection, telling you to lose weight and come back after that.

“I quit my whole plan to be a model and studied fashion and business instead, consciously working my way towards this point. But I never got over how the industry made me feel less of a person because I wasn’t a size zero.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares at you and it’s actually nice that he doesn’t try to make you feel better right away, praising you how you are perfect just the way you are. Because you’re not, but that’s fine because no one is.

“I’ve honestly never seen a more cruel industry than fashion before,” he then speaks up. “I didn’t grow up in it and still don’t really have that much and deep connection with it, but I know how fucked up it is. And it’s nice to see that you know your worth even after everything that happened.”

Your gaze meets his and you’re looking for any sign that gives away that he is just messing with you, but it’s all genuine. You just shoot him a small smile before lifting your drink to your lips. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him, including the ones you had in that bathroom.

“Okay, now you tell me something about your life,” you prompt, wanting to divert the conversation on him a little bit.

“What do you want to know?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

“Why did you name your brand Twisted?” you ask. The question has been on your mind for a while.

“It’s coming from my mum’s name. Anne Twist.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, you weren’t expecting such a deep and personal reason behind the name, connected to a family member.

“Why her?”

“Why not?” he smirks shrugging his shoulders. “She raised me and my sister up, I wouldn’t be here without her. It was obvious I would make her be part of it in some kind of way.”

“That’s actually very nice. Who knew that you could be something other than an egoistic asshole!” you joke, making him laugh as well.

“Okay, what’s the meaning behind your brand?” he then turns it back around.

“Well, my aunt met her husband when they were very young, maybe eighteen. She fell in love with Fabio on her trip to Italy and being the impulsive and adventurous woman that she is, she stayed for a month there just because of Fabio. He is a very passionate man and he was always ready to bring the stars down for Julia. He always used to tell her that he would even catch a comet for her, if that’s what she wanted. And that was my aunt’s favorite saying from him. Cometa is comet in Italian. It’s her tribute to the love of her life.”

“That’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Harry hums and you just smile nodding at him. It really is like a fairytale and it’s also one of the reasons why you were so happy to take her place at Cometa. Julia is still just as in love with Fabio as she was at eighteen and she deserves to spend more time with her beloved husband. She earned the time off after all the sacrifices she made for the company and all through them Fabio stayed by her side. It’s their well-earned happy ending now.

“You know a lot about romantic things?” you cock an eyebrow at him, finishing up your drink.

“Actually, I’m a quite romantic guy.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah, you just never gave me the chance to show it to you.”

“Oh, so now I’m the bad guy?” you chuckle, handing him your glass when he stands from the couch to get you a refill.

“Exactly!” he chuckles holding up your empty glass on his way. “I hope you know you absolutely broke my heart when you didn’t give me your number that night.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” you chuckle, resting your head in your palm, your elbow on the back of the couch. “I’m not sorry though. You didn’t give out the right vibes.”

“The right vibes?” he huffs as he returns with your drink and now sits a little closer to you. “What vibe did I give you?” “The vibe that told me I shouldn’t mess with you,” you simply answer as you take a sip from your refilled drink.

“You were so keen on hating me even before you knew who I was, I can’t believe you,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“I’m just cautious!” you protest. “I’ve dealt with some problematic men in the past, I can’t let myself walk right into another one that easily.”

“What did they do?”

“Some men just can’t treat women right. Especially confident ones with a body like mine,” you simply shrug.

Men like to think that bigger girls are so terribly insecure about their body that they need the validation of a male to feel good about themselves. But when you’re confident and feel good in your own skin without needing them to praise you, they think that you’re egoistic, so full of yourself and they are quick to try to drag you down. That’s something you can’t tolerate. You don’t need a man to feel good about yourself, you don’t need anyone for that. You know your worth and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s eyes travel down your body, taking his time on your curves and you smile shaking your head as you reach out and cupping his chin you pull his head up so he is looking into your eyes.

“I honestly can’t see what problem anyone could have with your body. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since our bathroom fiasco,” he bluntly comments making you chuckle, even flattered by his words.

“You are such a flirt,” you grin at him and he doesn’t try to protest.

You stay for a couple more drinks and you drop the heavier topics, venturing over to music, fashion and any funny stories that come to your mind. Harry is actually amazing company when you’re not trying to jump at each other’s throat and for a few short hours you forget that he is supposed to be your competitor.

You’re a little tipsy, but you are definitely not drunk, so when Harry offers you to stay the night you turn it down, calling yourself a car since you are not in the right state to drive.

“I’ll come and pick my car up in the morning,” you breathe out as you put your heels back on that came off your feet sometime during the evening, making yourself home in his place.

“I’ll text you the security number to the garage,” he nods, walking you to the elevator.

“Thank you. And… I guess thank you for the evening,” you smile at him, turning to face him. He is standing close, but still takes a step closer, one of his hands finding your waist as he pulls you against his chest. Your palms lie flat on his chest as you try to get yourself to the right mindset to leave now before you regret doing something. Leaning down his nose nudges against your cheek, before he presses a soft kiss under below your ear, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I should go, the car is here,” you breathe out, but don’t move.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, his lips peppering kisses on your jaw and your cheek, as if you didn’t say a word. You want to continue it, not just because of the alcohol but because the sexual tension between the two of you has been growing since that charity gala, but the remainder of your rationality stops you before your lips could meet.

“Bye Harry,” you smile at him softly as you push him away and you walk into the elevator, leaving him hanging. Again.

“Bye Y/N. I’m still going to try to ruin your company!” he calls after you as you turn around to face him, the sliding doors slowly closing between the two of you.

“Same back at you, Styles,” you smirk before the door closes and you are taken down.

Well, that was a lie. Following your evening at his place neither of you really tries to work against the other, leaving each other be without any fuss. It might also have something to do with how you kept in touch after that day. You’ve been texting occasionally, attending some events together, even had a business dinner together with a few other peers from the industry. Things have been quiet and you’ve been feeling content with the current state you’ve managed to reach. Or so you thought.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you. You both put your projects aside that targeted the other’s profile. Harry stopped looking for designers for his women lines and you put your men department to the side as well. There were a lot to work on beside these fields so you felt like you were in peace. Right until Leslie bursts into your office on a casual Tuesday.

“Have you seen this?” she asks, placing a tablet in front of you with an Instagram account open on it.

You want to ask what you’re supposed to look at, but then you realize what it really is. A shiny new account for a new brand that promises to take online shopping to the next level; female and male as well.

“You think it could be…?” you ask, not quite convinced that Harry is behind this.

“Well, the wording is similar to theirs and creating a new brand might be a solution to their gap in women’s fashion,” she points it out, though you don’t want to believe he could have been working on this all along, basically in front of your face.

But it’s a possibility and you have to consider this option before jumping into defending him without any proof.

“Men can’t be trusted,” you grumble under your breath before jumping into work.

What you didn’t know is that an eerily similar situation goes down in Harry’s office as well when Zayn bursts in, showing him the ad he found for the new brand called Farfalla.

Harry immediately digs up everything about the company, though there’s not much other than their new Instagram account and heavy marketing that started just yesterday.

“What is Farfalla even?” he grimaces leaning back in his chair.

“It means butterfly in Italian,” Zayn explains and Harry’s eyes flicker up to him.

“Italian? You think it’s her?”

“It’s possible,” Zayn nods. “Starting a new brand to finally reach men’s fashion is a good idea.”

“She wouldn’t have done this,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief. Could you be working on this all along? Was this your plan from the start? To make him fall for you and forget about business while you built up your new empire to ruin him?

“What if she did?” Zayn prompts and in a way his suspicion is valid, but Harry is having a hard time believing it. You would never play him this dirty, not after how the two of you have grown closer in the past weeks, almost became friends.

“What are you going to do?” Zayn asks him as he pushes himself away from the desk and quite obviously starts getting ready to leave.

“She is not getting away from this,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he grabs his coat and phone before storming out of the office.

It’s past six when Harry gets to Cometa’s building and he is informed that you’ve already went home. He could have just come back in the morning, but he knew he would just stew in his own anger if he didn’t talk to you as soon as possible. So using his charm he gets the woman sitting behind the front desk to share your address with him, saying that he needs to talk to you urgently. That’s how he finds himself heading to Park Slope, slightly surprised you are not living somewhere in the heart of Manhattan.

As the scenery around his changes, skyscrapers turning into brick buildings and townhouses, Harry tries to figure out what he even wants to say to you. Should he just get straight down to business and accuse you? Snap at you? Or should he give you the chance to explain yourself? He can’t really make up his mind, mostly because he still feels like you betrayed him even though he can’t be sure Farfalla is yours.

Parking down at the address he got from the woman, he stares up at the deep red brick townhouse, a simple, black door at the top of the stairs that’s lined with a few potted plants and flowers. This is not what he would have imagined your home like, but now that he is standing on your doormat, he realizes it kind of suits you.

Ringing the bell he hopes that you’re home and not out and about somewhere in the city, but when he hears the familiar sound of heels clicking on the floor he knows you are on the other side. When the front door flings open and you come into his sight, for a split second he forgets why he is here and his anger vanishes. As always, you look amazing, a tight, black dress hugging your curves, the middle part appearing like it’s a corset, emphasizing the dip of your waist. Your hair is let down in loose curls and your feet are bare, but he knows you probably wore heels all day. You must have gotten home not long ago and as your eyes fall on the man at the door, your expression hardens on him.

“You really had the balls to come her, huh?” you cock your head to the side, keeping your eyes on his green ones for a moment before you let him inside.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” he huffs walking into the hallway and stopping as you close the door and turn to him.

“Me? I could say the same! You thought I would just ignore it or what? I proved you a few times that I’m not stupid, Harry,” you retort, folding your arms on your chest as you walk past him, into the kitchen and he follows.

“You surely are not stupid, playing me so dirty behind my back!” Harry spats standing his ground. “Playing all friendly and nice and then make a fool out of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you question narrowing your eyes at him as you lean against the kitchen island’s counter. “If anyone played dirty it’s you! And you have the balls to come here and talk like this to me in my own fucking home?!” you snap, walking closer to him, keeping your deathly glare on him.

“What the fuck did I do?!” he scoffs throwing his hands into the air.

“You created a whole new brand just to fuck with me! Or did you think I wouldn’t find out about it?!”

“Me? You made a new brand! And you didn’t do a great job hiding the fact that it was your work, even the name is Italian, like your current one!”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side as you process what he is talking about. All along, the two of you were accusing each other of something neither of you did.

“Harry,” you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Farfalla is not my brand.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it?!”

“Well you better be because it’s the fucking truth!”

“Prove it!” he hisses at you, taking a step closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Until about twenty seconds ago I thought that it was your new brand, Harry. I thought that you were the one who backstabbed me!” you snap back, standing up for yourself in this giant misunderstanding you fell into, accusing each other without any proof.

Harry stares back at you, his gaze burning into yours as he stands his ground and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes your words.

“So… it’s not yours? You didn’t do it to fuck me up?”

“Of course not!” you breathe out, suddenly quite tired of all the anger that’s been eating you away through the afternoon. “I thought that we had a kind of silent agreement not to mess with each other so I wasn’t planning anything anytime soon. That’s why I got so mad when I thought you did it!”

“I thought the same!” he growls shaking his head. “I thought you did it all to just make me look stupid, that the friendly act was just so I wouldn’t notice a thing and I fell right into your trap.”

“There was no trap,” you simply tell him and you hope he senses the hidden meaning behind your words.

Luckily he does. But for your biggest surprise there’s no snarky comment or smug smirking, he just steps closer and before you could even protest, his hands find your waist and he pulls you against his hard chest, lips hungry attacking yours. He makes you back until you bump against the kitchen island, his hips pressing against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface, his hands wandering on your sides and back, up and down, exploring every curve of your body while his kisses never slow down, your tongues meeting in the middle.

Bringing up a leg you curl it around his hips, your heel digging into his round ass as he leans forward, making you arch your back, leaning onto the counter as his lips move from your lips to your jawline and neck, his fingers digging into your waist and the thigh that’s lifted by his side. He nibbles on the soft skin of your neck, definitely leaving a mark, but you just comb your fingers through his hair, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

“As much as I would love to fuck you on a counter again, can we take this to a bedroom?” he mumbles as he kisses his way back up to your lips, smirking against them as he captures them again.

You don’t answer, just grab his hand and pull him upstairs with you, right into your bedroom. He is all over you, lips, hands, tongue, pressed up against you as the two of you stumble your way to your king sized bed. Harry’s fingers fidget with the corset on your dress, but he soon realizes it’s a little trickier than he expected, so leaning back he furrows his eyebrows as he glances down at the dress, still trying to figure out how to get you out of it.

“Harry,” you smile at him softly. “It’s faux. There’s a zipper at the back,” you inform him and he sighs in defeat as he kisses you again, his fingers quickly finding the zipper. The dress pools at your feet and you rid him from his jacket and shirt, revealing his inked chest, a sight you’ve been thinking about way too much lately.

By the time the two of you fall to your bed, neither of you are dressed in more than just your underwear. Because both of you like to be in charge, you roll around for a while, trying to get on top of each other but eventually Harry stays up when he starts going down on you, kissing his way through your heated skin. You don’t shy away when his hands snake under your back and easily unclasps your bra, being bare in front of him is not something that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure. The way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel brings you so much confidence, you have absolutely no problem being nude.

When your bra flies to the floor, Harry leans back a little to admire you lying there, before his lips find their way over the curve of your breasts, down your stomach. Hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties he tugs them down easily as you lift your hips, your thighs parting as you bare yourself in front of him.

“Don’t be shy about screaming my name,” he smugly tells you before his lips and tongue meet your clit. Your fingers lace through his hair immediately as you gasp out at the sensation, his tongue drawing the whole fucking alphabet to your bundle of nerves. His arms curl around your thighs, ring clad fingers digging into your flesh as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Harry! Yes!” you moan out, tugging on his locks when he teases his tongue around your hole, your walls tightening around nothing as you are growing desperate to feel something inside of you.

You pull on his hair, signaling him that you want to get it on with, Hands reaching down to get rid of his boxer briefs before you blindly pull out the drawer of your nightstand, grabbing a condom. His lips eagerly meet yours as he wraps his erected cock and though you would love to have a taste of him like he did with you, you just want to feel him inside you.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls against your lips, teasing you with running just the head up and down your slit.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna rip your guts out,” you warn him, earning a soft chuckle as he kisses you again, tongue pushing into your mouth as he finally pushes inside you, his long, thick cock filling you up perfectly and it somehow feels even better than the first time.

“Go hard,” you gasp, a hand coming to grab his ass as you push him even further into you. He doesn’t need more, he starts slamming into you, his hips meeting yours roughly with each thrust, his whole length disappearing inside you every time.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on the soft skin. You almost think about telling him not to mark you, but it just turns you on even more so you let him do whatever he wants.

“I want to see you on top,” he pants, lifting his head so his gaze could meet yours. You nod, before the two of you turn around and you straddle his hips, guiding him back inside you as you sink down his length. Your hands are sprawled out on his hard chest as you find your balance in the position, Harry’s eyes roaming your body up and down, not able to get enough of how blissful you look, sitting with his cock buried inside of you, enjoying yourself to the fullest. His hands run up your thighs and upper body until they find your breasts, kneading them as you start moving your hips up and down, back and forth. When you moan his name or gasp because his cock reaches that one particular spot inside you, those are the moments he wishes he could capture on camera and watch whenever he wants.

“I want it from back,” you pant as you lean down and kiss him roughly. That’s all he needs, he helps you get off of him before you get on all four, pushing your butt up in the air while Harry kneels behind you, the sight in front of him hardening his cock even more, if that’s possible. His hands grab onto your waist as he pushes inside you, making you both let out a satisfied moan before he starts moving again.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Y/N. I love your ass,” he growls, giving it a smack that surprises you, but you absolutely love it.

“Harry, go faster!” you whimper, feeling your orgasm nearing as you grip the comforter on the bed, desperate to reach your climax. You’re just about to reach down between your legs to play with your clit when Harry not only picks his pace up but also reaches around you, two of his fingers starting the circling motions on the bundle of nerves, making your legs shake from the pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he growls, railing you from behind without missing a beat.

“Harry!” you scream when he thrusts into you so harshly, your whole body rocking in the motion.

“Come on, angel. Cum for me,” he murmurs and leaning down he wraps his arms around you, bringing you up straight, your back pressing against his sweaty chest, his hands coming to cup your breasts as he keeps thrusting up into you, pushing you over the edge.

You moan and gasp and scream his name as your walls tighten around his length, riding out your bliss and it helps him reach his own high, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck and shoulder, grunting and cursing under his breath as he fills the condom.

As his thrusts come to a halt, he sinks into a sitting position, bringing you with him, you lean against him feeling like jelly as you’re still just trying to catch your breath. Harry peppers your shoulder with small kisses before you muster the energy to break the position and lie down on the bed.

“Towel is in the bathroom,” you tell him knowing that’s what he’ll look for as he stands from the bed and you point at the door that leads to the joined bathroom. Harry nods and pads his way in there, cleaning himself up before he returns with a small damp towel, doing the same for you. He drops it to the floor next to the bed before joining you, cradling you into his arms as you take a breather together.

One hand is on your shoulder, fingers dancing on the naked skin, the other one is holding your thigh that’s across his lap while your head is resting on his chest.

“You really thought I would backstab you like that?” he hums after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You did the same,” you answer, lifting your head, resting your chin on his chest.

“Touché,” he chuckles, before leaning down he kisses you shortly. “So, if neither of us did it, then we have a quite major problem on our hands.”

“I know,” you hum. “That shit looks promising and they can easily ruin both of us.”

Harry stays silent for a little, but you can see the gears turning in his head. When his gaze snaps back at you, you know he has an idea.

“Unless… we join forces.” Your eyebrows arch as you stare back at him. “I know it’s a risky move, but this is the only way to stay on the top.”

“How much you want to be joined?”

“We could start with just one line, the men part designed by someone from me and the women by someone from you. And if it presents well we can just figure out where to go from there. Obviously, the men part would be sold by us and the women by you, but we could join the pages and direct users to each other’s sites in connection with the lines.”

“That could… actually work,” you nod shortly, thinking about the idea. It needs a lot of planning, but it could actually be a big hit if you do it right. “And you’re willing to partner with me?” you ask cheekily as you push yourself up into a sitting position, Harry doing the same.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m willing to do about anything with you,” he chuckles, making you smile at his playful answer. “I hope you know I’m not talking about just business,” he then adds with a meaningful look.

“You are still so keen on this?” you sigh, tugging your hair behind your ear.

“Do you not like being with me?”

“I do, surprisingly,” you roll your eyes, making him laugh.

“Do you not like having sex with me?”

“I think the answer is pretty obvious to that,” you give him a look as he smirks back at you.

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”

“I enjoy having sex with you, Harry,” you roll your eyes again, but he just kisses you short but hard before leaning back.

“So then why shouldn’t we date?”

“Because we are competitors?”

“We just agreed that we should join forces. We are partners now.”

“You are running a little ahead, Harry,” you cock an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages. I probably suck at it at this point,” you shrug, but it’s just a lame excuse and you both know that. Leaning closer Harry smirks at you smugly.

“I have something else you can suck.” You smack his chest at his nasty remark, but can’t push a smile back. His hand finds the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. “I want you, Y/N. I really do. You are all I think about even when you are an annoying piece of shit, getting under my skin. I still want you.”

“Wow, so romantic,” you chuckle shaking your head. “What if we can’t get over our differences in the business? That can easily poison any relationship.”

“Then we’ll have a lot of mind-blowing angry and makeup sex. Those are the best. We can put all our frustration into sex, I think that’s just perfect.”

“What are you, a horny teenager? Sex is all you can think about?” you chuckle.

“It is when I’m lying in a bed with you naked. You can’t blame me,” he grins smugly and you want to hate him, you want to hate him so badly, but you can’t. You want him just as much as he wants you.

“So… partners?” he prompts, tilting his head to the side with a sweet smile as he waits for your answer.

“Partners in business and life?”

“Mhm, that’s the plan,” he nods, his smile growing wider with each passing second.

“Alright,” you breathe out. “So… it’s not—All is fair in war and business?” you ask teasingly, using his own words from earlier.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #ceo!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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doeilovr · 2 years

Text

Strangers

-> Jung Jaehyun x Reader, fluff with a bit of angst, around 900 words, warnings: mentions of alcohol

LOVERS-SERIES

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You're mind is racing and blank at the same time, as you sit in a bar one Friday night.

You're brighter most days, but today is an exception. Truthfully the past month was full of exceptions, making you wonder if the day would ever come when you would feel carefree again.

"Is this seat taken?"

A deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you quickly turn your head to find a handsome young man standing next to you.

He's wearing black too, but you doubt it's because of the same reason.

"Please", as polite as you were raised you gesture for him to sit down next to you. He wordlessly obliges, eyes still studying you.

The bartender walks up to you, the stranger quickly raising one hand, "nothing for now", he says with a dark voice.

You look over to find him still staring at you. Suddenly feeling a bit nervous under his gaze you lift the drink to your lips and down the rest of the honey colored liquor in one go.

The man huffs, "tough day?"

"You have no idea", shoots out of your mouth before you can even think. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain."

"No need to apologize. Everyone has a right to be mad at the world."

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what his intentions were. It wasn't often that a stranger casually started talking to you in a bar. Honestly it wasn't often you were in a bar in the first place.

"I guess you're right", you think about it, "so, are you mad at the world, too?"

He tilts his head, thinking about your question. "I used to be mad at the world for giving me so much time and on the other hand taking other people's time so fast."

You sigh, knowing the feeling all too well. "The kindest souls always leave too early."

"Jaehyun", the stranger suddenly introduces himself, eyes trying to find yours. You raise your eyebrows in confusion.

"My name's Jaheyun", he repeats, a gentle smile spreading on his pinkish lips.

"Y/n."

Like the gentleman he is, he extends his hand for you to shake. You accept it, a giggle escaping your lips.

"You look even more beautiful when you smile", he compliments all of a sudden, catching you off guard.

"Oh, thank you", you swallow, your throat feeling dry. Is he flirting with you? Okay, no clearly he is. But why is he flirting with you?

Both of you are looking at each other now. Jaehyun's lips are curled in a soft smile, his dark eyes going up and down between your eyes and your lips.

You're studying his sharp yet gentle features. How is it possible for a man to look this good, you wonder.

Jaehyun chuckles, moving in his chair. "Do you maybe want to meet again tomorrow?"

That's a question you don't expect at all, nevertheless you feel happy he's asking. "I would love to", you smile, "maybe we could have lunch together? There's this nice restaurant right by the beach-"

"No", he abruptly interrupts you. "How does dinner sound instead? I know a restaurant in the city with a nice atmosphere."

You blink at him, "oh yeah that sounds good too", you say.

Jaehyun notices your disappointment and quickly leans forward, putting his hand on yours. "Let's go to the beach another time. Maybe we can eve watch the sunset?"

Your heart skips a beat when his hand meets yours. "Sure", you say without thinking. Jaehyun leaning in like this drives you crazy, you can barely function properly.

"Good, it's a date then", he concludes. Letting go of your hand he gets up from the chair and fixes his black jacket.

"Oh, you're leaving already?"

"It's late. I'll walk you home." He reaches out once again to grab your hand.

You follow him outside, it's dark already and freezing cold. It had rained earlier, painting the streets of a dark grey, the warm light of the street lamps illuminating the city.

Jaehyun lets go of your hand as soon as you're outside. He looks up to the night sky, wishing he could see just one star.

You rub your arms, freezing already. You look down, regretting your choice of footwear. Maybe if you would have worn your boots you wouldn't be freezing this much.

Just as you're about to look up again you feel something touch your shoulders. It feels heavy and before you can protest, Jaehyun has already put his jacket over your shoulders.

You gasp, "what are you doing? You'll catch a cold!" You can't believe he's giving you his jacket in this freezing weather.

"It's fine", he gently says, his hands gliding down your arms.

"No it's not", you argue once again, Jaehyun smiling even wider now.

"I'm fine, really", he chuckles, the sound making your heart flutter. You realize how close he is once again, his face only centimeters from yours.

Your heart begins to beat fast. "Better?" He whispers with a deep voice and you nod, eyes traveling between his eyes and his lips.

Jaehyun leans in slowly and you can't help but close your eyes. Gently, he places a soft kiss on your lips, barely touching them. He's so careful, like he doesen't want to hurt you.

"Better", you whisper back after your kiss.

With a smile, Jaehyun intertwines your fingers. "Then let's go now, I'll take you home." And just like that you disappear into the night.

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a/n: bet you didn't expect a part two to lovers hehe but here we are, actually I was planning on releasing it sooner.. but now it's out and I'm so happy, so enjoy!

Taglist: @shrutiajit <3

#nct #nct imagines #nct jaehyun fluff #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun x you #jung jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct u #nct 127 #nct fluff #nct x you #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun #nct oneshot #nct blurbs

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Pride

Dear nonnie who requested that I write something for Pride month, I'm so, so sorry! Somehow this got lost in my inbox and I didn't see it until I started working on 'Bargain' this afternoon. Please accept this humble ficlet and my deepest apologies. <3

I'm kind of nervous about this one. I know coming out is a deeply personal experience and I'm not sure I wrote it terribly well. Please know that you are loved, valued, cherished, and accepted just as you are. I know for many people the struggle is so much greater than what I wrote in this ficlet. You are all amazing. <3

cw: Internalized homophobia, homophobic parents (happy ending)

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June 12, 1999

"Hey!" Harry said, bursting into Draco's room like it was his own.

Draco looked up from the essay he was writing, the last one he needed to finish for his eighth year at Hogwarts. "Hi," he replied and he couldn't help but admire the dimple that stood out on Harry's cheek as he smiled at him.

"Some of us are heading down to Hogsmeade for the pride celebration they're having there tonight," Harry said. "Did you want to come?"

His brow furrowed, "Pride? Like house pride?"

Harry laughed but not unkindly like it would have been prior to this year, "No, like gay pride. It's to celebrate people who are lgbtq+, to affirm their dignity and worth as human beings, you know?"

Draco felt his cheeks flushing hot, "I'm not," he managed through the way it felt like someone had closed off his airway, shaking his head, "I'm not gay!"

"Err," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, "Right, I wasn't trying to imply anything. Just," he shrugged, "I think I'm bi, and there's GInny and Luna," he continued, stumbling over his words.

"But I'm not!" he protested

"Right," Harry repeated, brow furrowing, "We just thought..." he trailed off, "Ron, who's like as straight as they come is coming too, to show his support."

"I can't," Draco said. "I've got all this work to do, I just-"

"It's okay," Harry said, shaking his head and holding out a hand, "Totally fine, sorry to have bothered you," he added as he quickly fled the room before Draco could say anything else.

(Continue reading below the cut)

He stared after him, still feeling panicked and full of regret at the same time.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

And in spite of the fact that he'd told Harry he needed to finish his essay, he spent the rest of the night trying to get his heart to slow down, his breathing to come easier, and his mind to stop spinning.

The essay remained untouched.

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June 9, 2000

Draco was having murderous thoughts.

They had a tradition on Fridays that everyone who lived in Grimmauld sat down together for dinner and if you were dating someone, you were allowed to bring them home with you for dinner. Draco never brought anyone home because the women he dated were so unattractive to him that he just couldn't bring himself to see them for more than a date or two.

Harry, on the other hand was always bringing someone home. He had men and women there with him every week. Usually, it was a different person every week and that didn't bother Draco all that much. But he'd been seeing Conor for six weeks now and the way the other man was always clinging to Harry, always laughing and batting his eyelashes at him; it made Draco feel ready to kill him.

"So I was thinking," Harry said when there was a lull in the conversation, "The Leaky is having a Pride Night celebration tomorrow. Maybe we should all go together?" he asked hopefully.

There were murmurs of approval all around the table and Draco dropped his gaze to his plate, his palms started to itch. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"What about you, Draco?" Conor asked, all toothy smiles as he rested his arm around Harry's shoulders.

He couldn't help but look over at Harry who was suddenly watching him in that way that made him feel like he was being held under a magnifying glass. People thought that Harry was oblivious but Draco knew they were wrong. Harry knew everything about Draco just from watching him.

Draco swallowed, "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah. I can come for a bit."

Harry smiled at him then, soft and sweet, his dimples showing, "Yeah?" he asked.

And Draco was fairly certain there was nothing he could have said no to when Harry asked like that, so he nodded.

"Great!" Conor enthused and the moment dissipated like fog in the sun. "It'll be so fun to have all of your friends there, babe."

"Err," Harry said, looking over at Conor, "Yeah. Totally." Then he turned back to look at Draco once more, "Yeah," he said again.

-----------

June 10, 2000

Draco had made a mistake.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"Hey!" Harry said, appearing out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Draco, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he lied.

"Come on," Harry said, "Let me introduce you to some people."

Draco spent the next hour meeting all sorts of people, he listened to people telling their stories, people who were claiming their own lives and destinies, and all he could feel was loss.

Every person he listened to felt like another stone tied around his neck, their joy and freedom made him feel even more trapped. Harry went to fetch drinks as he listened to a trans woman named Jocelyn talking about how difficult it had been to come out to her family. And it was the final straw, he lost it. Tears slipped from his eyes and before he could do anything, she was hugging him, "We've all been where you are," she whispered.

He shook his head and pulled back, "I'm not-" he covered his mouth, he couldn't quite force out the lie.

She nodded knowingly, "We've all been there, too."

"I've got to go," he managed, rising on shaking legs and making his way out of the bar as quickly as he could.

When he got outside he bent over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Draco!" he heard as the door opened and he wasn't ready for this.

"Don't," he said, standing up and holding out his hands to stop Harry from coming any closer.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern and Draco hated it.

"Malfoys aren't gay!" he exploded.

"What?" Harry asked as though his words hadn't been perfectly clear.

"Malfoys aren't gay," he repeated.

Harry tilted his head at him, "Alright."

"So you can stop this," he said, gesturing at the door. "I don't need help coming out. I'm not gay," he spat.

"I'm not trying to help you come out," Harry said, his voice measured and calm in a way that told Draco just how hard he was working at not getting emotional. "I just wanted to introduce you to-"

"Bull shit," he hissed. "Every person you 'introduced me to' told me about coming out."

"It's Pride, Draco. They're," he stopped and corrected himself, "We're celebrating coming out. We're celebrating not hiding who we are anymore. If you think it's about you, well," he shrugged a shoulder, "You probably have more in common with us than you want to admit."

"I'm not gay!" he shouted, shoving Harry away from him.

There was a flash of hurt across Harry's face before he put his hands on his hips and that fire that Draco so remembered from Hogwarts filled his eyes. "No one said you were!" Harry shouted back. "And if you were so afraid of having people think you are, why did you even come in the first place?"

"I guess I shouldn't have."

Harry took a step back away from him, shaking his head, "I guess not." He turned on his heel and stalked back into the bar, leaving Draco standing on the sidewalk, shaking as the adrenaline flooded through him.

-------------

June 11, 2000

It wasn't quite morning when Draco heard a soft knock at his door.

With no small amount of effort, he reached for his wand and cast a spell to open it. Harry was standing in the doorway and Draco huffed, "I've already packed," he said. "I'll leave in the morning."

"What?" Harry asked, sounding panicked, "No!" he said, stepping across the threshold of Draco's room and moving to the chair across from Draco's bed. "No," he repeated. "Draco, please don't leave. I'm sorry. Alright?" Harry said. "I shouldn't-"

"You're sorry?" Draco asked, sitting up and staring at the other boy, "No, I'm sorry," he said, quickly. "I was awful and I didn't le-"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "It's my fault. I shouldn't-"

"I'm gay," Draco blurted and then realized what he'd just admitted. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Harry whispered, climbing onto the bed next to him and pulling Draco into his arms, "It's okay."

Draco shook his head but couldn't manage any words around the sob that was choking him.

"It's okay," Harry soothed, stroking his fingers through Draco's hair and rocking him. "I've got you," he breathed. "You're safe," he said, "You're safe," he repeated. "You're loved and you're accepted," he told him, "I've got you."

Draco sobbed, all of the fear, and the guilt, and the shame was built up high in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe around it.

"Okay," Harry soothed, "Slow breaths with me, yeah? Just try to match your breathing to mine," he said, his hand rubbing soothingly over Draco's back.

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath that burned all the way down into his lungs.

"That's it," Harry encouraged, "You're alright."

He continued breathing slowly and Draco tried to mirror it until his sobbing was just the occasional hiccup and the tears were just trickling out of his eyes.

"Okay," Harry breathed. "Better?"

Draco nodded and pulled back, "Sorry," he murmured, then he caught sight of Harry's shirt covered in tears and snot and wished that the earth would open up and swallow him, "Salazar, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for his wand and casting a hasty drying charm followed by a cleaning charm.

"It's fine," Harry said, reaching out to still Draco's motions. "It's fine," he repeated. "Look, I didn't mean to pressure you into coming out," he said. "I won't tell anyone," he added hastily.

He shook his head, "It's eating me up inside." Draco wiped the tears off his face, "I'm going to die alone."

"Don't say that," Harry said.

"Well it's true!" he said, "What am I supposed to tell my parents?"

Harry took his hand, "It's up to you," he said softly. "I won't pretend to understand the challenges you're facing. My parents are dead."

"Oh, thanks. Play the dead parent card."

Harry huffed a laugh, "Shut up. I'm trying to say that I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. It's not an easy decision and I want you to know that I am here for you, that I support you, no matter what."

His eyes filled with tears and he let out a groan, "Stop it."

The other boy wrapped his arms around him, "No."

"What is this?" he asked, from where his face was buried in Harry's neck.

"Affection."

"Disgusting," he murmured.

"Want me to stop?"

He shook his head because when Harry wasn't hugging him everything felt a little too big and a little too close.

And he had no idea what he was going to do but when Harry was holding him it didn't seem quite so scary.

-------------

A few weeks later, he and Harry had started dating in secret. Harry was very sweet, very patient as Draco struggled against years of deeply ingrained negative thoughts. Draco still felt like he was a bit of a burden but Harry always insisted he wasn't.

Just over a month after that, Hermione had figured it out on her own, Pansy had tricked him into confessing, and Ron had walked in on the two of them making out on Harry's bed.

And the world didn't end.

Slowly, over the course of the next seven months, they told all of their friends. Everyone was supportive. Everyone was happy for them, happy for him that he'd decided to walk in the truth.

Truth be told, he was happy too. His anxiety still got the worst of him some days and his fear was sometimes bigger than anything else but he got through those days and those days slowly became fewer and fewer.

He got comfortable with Harry; comfortable holding hands, comfortable with casual kisses, comfortable with bickering that turned into flirting, just comfortable in his skin.

One chilly March morning, he and Harry were out to breakfast and they were laughing and teasing each other, like they always did and Draco was happy all the way down to his toes.

He looked across the table at Harry, "You've got whipped cream on your mouth," he laughed.

Harry stuck his tongue out and missed completely.

"Here," he said with a laugh, "Let me," he added as he grabbed the front of Harry's jumper and pulled him close so he could kiss it off his grinning face.

He was pulling back to check that he'd gotten it all when he heard a gasp that he would have recognized anywhere. Draco would never be quite sure what his face and body language were saying at that moment but Harry was instantly on alert, scanning the room for danger. "Shit," he breathed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," his mother hissed. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing."

"Don't make a scene, mother," he said and even he was surprised at how calm the words came out.

"I don't think that I am the one making a scene, Draco."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, "Why don't we go somewhere more private for this conversation."

"Oh no," she said, "I don't think there is any conversation to be had. Draco, we'll be leaving. Right this instant."

Draco looked at her, at the woman who had dried his tears, who had sacrificed for him, who had given him life and his heart yearned for her. He longed to reach out and hold her hand like he had when he was young, to let her reassure him that everything would be alright. And it could be. He knew if he walked away with her today, he'd go back to living the life that had been planned for him.

But then he looked at Harry and all he could see was freedom. His heart expanded as he remembered the late nights talking over a bottle of wine, the early mornings as the sun filtered in through Harry's window and painted him golden. He remembered the cuddles on the couch and the evenings spent cooking dinner together. And he knew that he could never go back. He could never live a life of duty and obligation knowing that this one was possible.

"I love you," he said softly as he stared at Harry.

The other man blinked before his mouth curved up in a grin, his dimples showing, "I love you, too."

He reached for Harry's hand to ground himself as he turned to his mother, "You know that I love you," he said to her, "but I can't live a lie. I can't be the boy that you wanted."

"Draco you are being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he replied. "But I never knew what it was like to be free before these past few months with Harry and I won't give them back."

She cast a belated muffliato. "There are plenty of Purebloods who are gay, Draco," she said, keeping her voice low, "You still have your obligation to have a pureblood heir. Marry a nice girl and take a lover if you must, but you will continue your bloodline."

He laughed, it sounded a bit hysterical even to his own ears. "Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "The Malfoy line can die with me. I'm not marrying some woman just to please you."

"Draco-"

"No," he said sharply. "No. I can't do this, mother. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm done." He shook his head, "You can accept this, accept me or not. Either way I am done."

She straightened her spine and smoothed the emotions from her features and Draco knew the decision she had made before she started speaking. He clasped Harry's hand tighter in his. "Very well, then," she said. "Good day," she murmured before she walked away without a backward glance.

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry asked, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know."

"What can I do?" he murmured, squeezing Draco's hand again.

"Can we go home?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, love. Of course."

He apparated them back and they spend the afternoon cocooned in Harry's room until their friends came to find them for dinner.

---------------

June 9, 2001

This year it's Draco who asked about going to the bar to celebrate Pride.

Harry smiled and pulled him in for a long kiss before nodding and getting dressed.

When they arrived, Draco slipped his fingers through Harry's holding his hand tightly; proud of Harry, proud of how far they've come, and proud of himself for how much he's grown and how brave he's become.

Several of the people he'd met the year before remembered him and are quick to congratulate him and welcome him again. The night was full of music and dancing, of listening to stories and starting to tell his own, it's everything Harry had made it sound like.

And he thought he might be happy, in spite of that little bit of his heart that always ached for his parents.

They're about to head up for another round of drinks when Harry tugged on his hand. "Look," he murmured, pointing to the door.

Draco followed his pointing and saw that there was a woman standing in the door who looked remarkably like his mother. "What?" he managed.

But Harry was already waving to her and nudging Draco forward.

"What?" he repeated when he was standing in front of her.

Without a word she wrapped her arms around him, enfolding him in the comforting feel and scent of his childhood.

"Mummy?" he whispered.

"Yes, darling," she replied, voice equally thick with tears.

Harry cleared his throat, "I'll fetch us some drinks. What can I get you Narcissa?" he asked.

"Whiskey neat," she replied without releasing her hold on Draco.

He pulled back after one more moment, "What are you doing here?"

"Where else could I be?" she asked. "When we didn't see you for your birthday last week," she shook her head. "Well, I knew that I was making a mistake."

Harry returned handing them their drinks and nodding toward a table nearby.

They headed over and she sat next to Draco, "You're my child, Draco," she said. "And I love you more than you can imagine."

He nodded once but didn't say anything. This sounded too much like the start to one of the 'I love you and if you love me, this is how you should act' talks.

"Fortunately, your Mr. Potter has sent quite regular correspondence."

"What?" Draco said, whipping his head around to look at Harry.

He nodded once but before Draco could question him his mother continued.

"He invited me to come tonight," she continued, "To support you. And I've missed so much already, how could I say no?"

"This isn't a phase," he said. "I'm not going to change my mind or be cured one day."

She nodded, "I know."

"Does father?"

She hummed, "We're getting there." She took his hand in her's, "For now, won't you introduce me to some of your new friends?"

--------

Two years later, when he and Harry got married, both of his parents were there, sitting right in the front row and cheering them on.

---------

Thanks for the prompt! I don't quite know what you were hoping for so I hope this is okay! <3

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #pride #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #love #learning to love yourself #cw:internalized homophobia #cw:homophobic parents #happy ending #but read with care if you have triggers related to internalized homophobia or homophobic parents #you are loved-valued-and accepted

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Fake or Fortune

For @omgrachwrites 1K Follower Celebration - congratulations!

AU: Fake Relationship

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: This does not follow canon, it takes place in my Alternative S1 Punisher Universe, with Arrogant!Billy in attendance.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, slightly questionable consent, some dom/sub interaction, oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Swearing and drinking.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My Photo Edit)

Karen put a large G&T down in front of you, accompanied by a sympathetic look. You picked it up and took a large sip, sighing as you put it back down again.

“I give up, Karen. No matter what I do, without fail I either pick the wrong guy or else think everything’s fine, and then boom - it isn’t.”

This was a commiseration drinking session, which Karen had suggested after she’d noticed you moping around the office. You both worked at the same big newspaper but in different departments, and became good friends after spending numerous lunchtimes together in the staff restaurant.

“What happened this time?” she asked, then winced as she realised maybe that wasn’t the most tactful way of putting things. “I mean, I thought you and David were getting on really well?” You took a larger gulp of your drink, “Well, that’s the thing - so did I. Until I got the “it’s not you, it’s me” talk on Saturday.” You’d been seeing this guy from your Digital News Content section for a few months, and you’d really thought everything had been on track.

Karen sighed, “Oh lord, not that old pile of bullshit.” You nodded, “Yeah, right. I tried to pin him down to exactly what the problem was, but I guess it was just me, when it all came down to it. In fact, I saw him chatting up a girl from Accounts yesterday so he’s already moved on to pastures new. That didn’t take long, did it? Or maybe he’d already moved on but didn’t have the balls to tell me.”

“Look, I’m meeting up with Frank on Friday night for a drink...” her cheeks pinked up, and you smiled at her obvious pleasure in that thought, “....so why don’t you come along? He mentioned one of his friends might tag along.” You held up a hand, “Oh no! No! I’m not being set up.” She shook her head, “It’s not a set-up, I swear. They’ve got a little....issue.... with Homeland and we’re going to talk about it.”

You knew she’d recently met this ex-Marine called Frank when - in her role as investigative reporter - she’d been digging into some big CIA scandal. When was there not a scandal about the CIA, you thought. You knew she’d met him several times over the past couple of weeks and had detected a more-than-just-business interest in him. “Oh, so.... strictly business, then?” you teased. She shifted in her seat, “Well, mainly.... we’ve also been talking about more personal stuff.” “Uh-huh,” you nodded, smirking, “Karen fancies Frank, Karen fancies Frank!” you sang, while she batted your arm and gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh shut up, you,” she said, “...are you coming along or not?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

And that’s why you found yourself sitting in a neighbourhood bar with Karen on Friday night, feeling quite nervous for some reason. Probably because Karen was fidgeting like hell next to you, and you were picking up on her nervous energy. You smiled over at her, “So you really like this guy, huh?” “No!”she denied, then as you raised an eyebrow at her, “Well... okay, yes I do like him. He’s so sweet.” Her eyes widened as she spoke, catching sight of two approaching figures, “Oh! Here he comes.” A big bear of a man came up to your table, smiling broadly at Karen and then including you in the smile as he stopped beside you. “Hey, Karen,” he greeted her, and she beamed back at him. “Hey, Frank,” and then she introduced you to him. His friend, who’d been partially blocked from your sight by Frank’s bulk, moved out from behind him and said ‘Hi - I’m Billy Russo,’ and shook your hand as he did so. “Nice ta meet ya,” said Frank, also shaking your hand and sitting down in the booth next to Karen.

The man who’d just introduced himself as Billy slid in next to you, and you tried not to stare. He was hot. Like, really hot. Dressed in a smart suit and overcoat, he really didn’t look like an ex-Marine, but Karen had told you that both Frank and his friend were ex-service, and that the friend had opened up a security firm called Anvil when he left the Marines. His handsome face turned towards you, and two very dark eyes looked into yours, “So.... you’re a friend of Karen’s?” You nodded, “Yeah, we just worked together to start with but now we’re besties.” “You a reporter too?” “Nah, I’m a lowly sub-editor on the news desk.” A sudden thought occurred to you, “Oh... and just to reassure you, this isn’t a set-up... you and me, I mean.” He smirked, and you found yourself staring at his lush brushed-back hair and sculpted jaw with its light beard. “Would it have been a big problem if it had been?” he was saying to you, and you shook yourself out of your little trance.

“No, I guess not...” you replied, laughing nervously, “...but I just wanted to get it out there.” He looked you over appraisingly, “Well, I wouldn’t have been disappointed at all,” the smirk got bigger, “....so if you change your mind, just let me know.” This left you speechless but he was still looking at you, asking, “Whaddya want to drink? First round’s on me,” before turning his gaze to the others.

Several beers later, you were sitting listening to the other three talking about a lot of indecipherable nonsense (from your point of view), and you were beginning to get antsy. “Karen, I’m going to head off,” you said in a break in the conversation and she looked slightly guilty, “Oh sorry... we’ve been going on about this for ages.” You shrugged, “It’s fine, Karen, honestly. I’ll see you Monday, okay? Have a great weekend.” You turned to the guys, “You too, and thanks for the drinks,” and made to move out of the booth. But Billy didn’t move. “See you home?” he questioned you, and you saw small smiles on both Karen and Frank’s faces. “Yeah, okay,” you nodded, and then he moved, standing aside as you slid out of the booth. As you headed to the door through the crowd of people, you felt his arm snaking around your lower back. Oooh, very confident, you thought. You’d marked him out as a player as soon as you’d set eyes on him.

“Sorry about the boring shop talk,” he said as you both hit the street, “....me and Frankie’ve got some problems with Homeland right now.” “That doesn’t sound good,” you said as you found yourself being guided around the corner from the bar. “Oh, I was going to take the subway,” you protested, but he shook his head, “This time on a Friday night? Nah.” He pointed towards a rather flashy-looking car parked in the street, “Got the car with me so I’ll take you home. I only had one beer, case you didn’t notice.” “I didn’t,” you admitted, “I thought you were sinking beers like the rest of us.” He gave a low laugh, “I was a sniper in the service, so I like to be aware of my surroundings at all times.” A little frisson ran through you, this guy was quite dangerous, you could tell. As you reached the car, he held the passenger door open for you and you climbed in, trying to be as elegant as possible although you weren’t sure you quite achieved that.

As he started the engine and moved the car out into the flow of traffic, he asked, “So what made you come along tonight if it wasn’t a set-up?” “I was bored. I just split up with my boyfriend of a few months so...” you shrugged. You heard a chuckle, “His loss.” “I don’t think that’s what he thought,” you replied, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, it’s true,” said Billy, “...believe me. He must be mad to give you up.” “You silver-tongued charmer,” you said back to him, and again you heard his deep chuckle.

“Seriously, it’s my gain. Look, this might seem a bit of an odd request seein’ as how we’ve only just met...” he began, looking across at you as he pulled up outside your apartment block, “....but you’d be doin’ me a big favour. How ‘bout you come along to this charity event I gotta go to next week? As my ‘plus one’?” You hesitated, and he carried on, “No strings, I promise. Just come along as my girlfriend and be on my arm all night. Help me ward off the attentions of someone I’d rather avoid.” You scoffed, “Fake dating? Really?!”

Much to your surprise, you found yourself walking into your building a few minutes later having just agreed to go to this event with Billy. He’d looked pleased, thanking you for saying yes. And you’d also been on the receiving end of a surprise kiss from him. He’d suddenly leant in, slid his big hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in, his mouth finding yours as he did. The kiss had been short but very sexy and you were still tingling from the after-effects.

He’d laughed at your look of total surprise, and wished you sweet dreams. You’d better be careful, warned your internal guardian angel, he said ‘No Strings’.... remember? So don’t go getting all invested in this guy. He’s a player.... for sure.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy and you had swapped numbers, and the following morning you were pleasantly surprised to get a text asking if you could meet him later that day. Intrigued, you texted back saying you didn’t have any other plans but why did he need to meet up? He came back saying he’d had an idea to help out with the event next week, and said he could pick you up. Feeling like you could be making a big mistake, you agreed so he said he’d be at your place around two.

You made sure you dressed casually. Not having any idea where you were going, but sure it wouldn’t be a date as such, you just chose a shirt and jeans with some suede ankle boots. When Billy texted you to say he was parked outside, you left your apartment and locked up, feeling a spark of excitement run through you as you did. “This is not a date, this is not a date, this is not a date!” you chanted in your head as you went downstairs. Billy, you saw with relief, was also dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket and combat boots. He gave you a big grin as you got in the car, the luxurious leather aroma of the interior filling your nostrils. “What make of car is this?” you asked, being an “it’s a black one” kind of girl. He gave you what could only be described as a smug smile, “Rolls Royce Wraith, sweetheart,” he answered. “Oh, okay,” you said, “....expensive, I take it?” “Very.” “Surprised you park it on the street the way you do then,” you shrugged, and he burst out laughing. “Is it one of those so-called penis extensions?” you asked next, and Billy nearly choked he was laughing so hard.

“Firstly, I take it that means you aren’t particularly impressed,” he gasped, getting his breath back after his laughing fit, “...and secondly, no darlin’, it definitely isn’t one of those ‘penis extensions‘ as you put it. Got no need for one-a those.” You returned his smirk, “Really? Well, I don’t care what car a guy drives,” you said firmly, “...that’s got nothing to do with what he’s like.” He glanced across at you as he swung the car into one of the downtown underground car parks. “And what do you think I’m like?” You looked at his profile as he concentrated on parking the big car in a corner space, “Mmmm... I think you’ve had a hard upbringing and now you’re making up for it. Big time.”

Billy switched the engine off and turned to stare at you, the dark eyes drilling into yours with an intensity you hadn’t been expecting. “Wow,” said Billy, “....you sure you’re not one-a these psychoanalysts or somethin’?” “Definitely,” you replied. “Well, you sure sound like you’ve been analysing me, sweetheart,” he said. You didn’t know him well enough to gauge his mood, and he carried on, “I mean, you got all that from meetin’ me last night and just now?” You nodded, saying neutrally, “I’m just speculating of course... but the expensive suits, the car, and I bet a big flashy apartment too, it just says ‘I can afford this now and I’m gonna enjoy it’ to me.” You were relieved to hear a chuckle as you’d been worried you’d really offended him. “Spot on,” he said, “...yeah, you’re spot on. I think you’re maybe in the wrong business.” You decided to change the subject, “So... where are we going, Billy?” “You’ll see in a minute,” he grinned, “....c’mon, let’s go sweetheart.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Minutes later, you were standing outside one of the expensive and trendy boutiques in the area. Billy’s hand went under your elbow and he steered you inside. “Billy... what’s going on?” He nodded to one of the staff who started making her way over to the two of you. “Look, it was my bright idea to drag you along to this thing, so the least I can do is treat you to a new outfit.” You were shaking your head before he’d stopped speaking, “Oh no, no... I can’t let you do that!” He was nodding back at you - it must’ve looked quite comical to the store assistant, “Oh yes, you will - I insist.” He turned to the woman, “Please can you help my girlfriend pick out an outfit for a formal event?” And before you could say anything else, he’d wandered over to a seating area near the changing rooms and seated himself in a comfortable armchair. “I’ll be right here, sweets,” he said, beaming at you. Girlfriend indeed, you thought.

The store assistant looked expectantly at you and you nodded hesitantly at her, so she led you over to some rails filled with lots of beautiful dresses. “How nice of your boyfriend to buy you a whole new outfit,” she commented, beginning to slide the dresses back and forth along the rail looking for a selection for you, “He’s very charming,” she continued, admiringly. “Yes, isn’t he,” you said between gritted teeth. Truthfully, you were feeling as if you were out shopping with your sugar daddy. But you had to admit that your bank account would’ve been protesting loudly if you’d had to make the purchase yourself, and you definitely would’ve had to buy something new as nothing in your wardrobe was even remotely suitable for a formal event. And he was right, this was all his bright idea. So you’d just suck it up, you thought, however reluctantly.

Eventually the assistant had several dresses folded over her arm for you to try on, and you sailed past Billy to the changing rooms without as much as a glance at him. But you just knew he was staring at you as disappeared behind the curtain.

After twenty minutes of struggling in and out of the various dresses, you had to admit that the assistant had made some good choices. There were three that you really liked, and you finally chose a midnight blue silky sheath of mid-thigh length, an asymmetric one-shoulder-strap neckline and a swirl of sequins diagonally across it from neck to hem. It was tight-fitting but didn’t show off an excessive amount of skin - you didn’t want to have it all out there on show after all.

The assistant had also brought several pairs of shoes to you once you’d chosen your dress, and you picked out a pair of matching delicate strappy sandals. Pleased with your choices, you put your own clothes back on and went out to find Billy. He looked up from his phone as you exited the changing room, a disappointed look on his face, “What.... no catwalk show for your boyfriend?” You leant down and whispered, “Okay, you’re laying it on a bit thick, Russo,” to which he grinned, gently took hold of your chin and softly kissed you. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smirked. Then a horrible thought occurred to you, “Billy!” you whispered forcefully. He looked a bit nervously at you, “What?” “There was no price tag on that dress or the shoes either!” He waved a hand at you, “Yeah? That’s okay, just leave it to me.” “No! That’s not on. I’m going to ask her what the price is.” He jumped up out of the armchair, “Nah, nah! Told ya, it was my idea you come along so just let me do this, okay?”

He set off without further delay to the cash desk, while you reluctantly waited in the seating area. Not particularly comfortable with the idea of him buying you an outfit, you decided that you’d offer to buy him dinner to kind of offset his no doubt hefty bill for the dress purchase. He came back over to you a few moments later carrying a large box in one of the boutique’s carrier bags which he handed to you with a grin. “She’d already boxed it before I could see it so it’s still gonna be a surprise when I see it on the night.” You smirked back, you were quite pleased about that. “Billy, let me buy you dinner as a thank you for the dress.” “Okay, I won’t say no to a free dinner,” he grinned, “...where d’ya wanna go?” You mentally reviewed your bank balance and named a mid-priced restaurant close by.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After a pleasant couple of hours chatting over dinner, Billy drove you home. Debating how to end the night, you came up with what you felt was a decent plan. Not that you were trying to extend the evening of course. That would be just plain stupid as the ‘relationship’ was all a big fake. Remember? your brain asked you. “You know Billy, we haven’t prepared a back story yet, have we?” you said as he drew up outside your place. “A back story?” “Yeah. I mean, if this person you’re trying to avoid happens to ask us - together or separately - about our relationship, we need to be singing from the same songsheet, don’t we?” He looked thoughtful, “Uh yeah, you’ve got a point there.” “OK, well how about you come in for a glass of wine or a coffee and we can get that sorted now?” A devilish smirk appeared, “Plannin’ to ravish me, sweetheart?”

You felt your face heat up with a sudden blush, “No!! Purely to agree on the back story. But hey - we can just text about it if you’d prefer!” Embarrassed, you grabbed your bags, opened the car door and began to get out, but Billy grabbed your arm, “Hey, hey, sweetheart - I’m just kiddin’. Hold on an’ I’ll park up. We can walk up together.” You huffed slightly and closed the car door again, while Billy looked around for a parking space. Once parked, the two of you went up to your apartment and you unlocked the door, waving him inside and over to the sofa while you stashed the bags and headed to the kitchen area. “What would you like? Wine, beer or coffee?” “I’d better just have a coffee,” he said, “...don’t wanna get drunk and pass out in your apartment. Not a good look.” “I don’t see you as a ‘getting drunk’ kinda guy, Billy. You already told me you like to be aware of your surroundings.” He laughed, “You’re right, I don’t make a habit of gettin’ wasted.”

So you switched on your coffee machine and asked what kind of coffee he’d like, holding up a handful of different capsules. He strolled over to you, draping his leather jacket over the back of one of the high stools at your breakfast bar as he reached you. He leaned down slightly and looked at the selection you had in your hand, and you were suddenly very aware of the scent of his aftershave. “Whattya got there, then?” You took his hand and dumped them all in it, saying, “I’m just gonna fill up the water jug while you decide,” and moving swiftly away from him. You were finding it very difficult indeed to ignore the magnetic attraction he was exerting over you, but you really had to try harder as you were only going to end up getting hurt otherwise. He held out a capsule toward you, “Americano’s fine,” he said.

The two cups of coffee made a few moments later, you led him back over to the sofa and you both sat down at opposite ends. “Okayyyy,” said Billy, “....back story then?” You nodded, “Yeah. Nothing too fancy as the less details we have to remember the better.” “Good idea. We should probably add in some truth too. So.... we met through Karen & Frank?” “Yes, that’s a good start. Where did we meet and how long have we been seeing each other?” “Neighbourhood bar, and a coupla months?” “Okay, yeah. Actually is that about it? That was easier than I thought! Or...what else might they ask? Who is this person you’re avoiding - are they gonna be really nosy?” Billy snorted, “Oh yeah! Her name’s Caroline, a spoilt rich bitch. Her father owns a tech company and he supplies some of our equipment. She came along to one of the meetings recently and now she’s stalking me.” You grinned, “And that’s a problem for you? I would’ve thought you’d quite enjoy that, Billy.”

He grinned back, “Are you sayin’ I’m a player or somethin’?” “Well, aren’t you? I’m kinda getting that vibe.” Now he laughed out loud, “Maybe. But I like doin’ the chasing, sweetheart, not the other way round. If she ever got hold-a me, I’d never get outta her clutches.” “What - you wouldn’t? Not much of an ex-Marine then, are you?” He rolled his eyes, “Seriously, this woman’s so clingy she’d attach herself to me like a limpet mine. And I don’t like violence against women so I’d be in a difficult situation. Plus the main thing’s the business link with her daddy. His stuff’s good, I wouldn’t wanna have to replace him as a supplier. So you see, you’re doing me a solid here.” “When you say stalking you, do you mean literally?” “Well, like turning up at Anvil all the time to ‘check on the equipment’ and shit like that.” “So not outside the office then? I’m just thinking along the lines of her not seeing us around together before the event if she’s around you outside business hours. She might not buy it.” “As far as I know, only in office hours.”

“As far as you know? That’s not exactly reassuring if she’s as much of a stalker as you say she is.” He laughed, “No, I’m sure she’s not around apart from that.” “Okay, well is there anything else you can think of that she might ask?” He gave you a sly grin, “If we’ve slept together.” You got up and took your empty cup over to the kitchen sink, “Uh-huh.... well she can ask! We’ll just have to lie, won’t we?” You turned round only to find Billy invading your personal space again, and you moved back slightly in surprise. He followed, crowding you against the counter, dark eyes gazing into yours, “Uh... we don’t have to lie.” You leaned further back, your brain yelling ‘don’t give in to him!’ at you. “Billy... you suggested this whole thing and you also said ‘no strings’, remember? Well, if we did that... that would be strings, don’t you agree?” He reached round you and put his cup in the sink too, “Yeah, I guess so. Just thought we could make things look a little more.... authentic, y’know?” He turned and grabbed his jacket off the back of the stool, but then took you by surprise again by swooping in for a long kiss, pulling you against his body and his big hand sliding around the back of your neck. You pulled away, trying to catch your breath.

Those espresso-coloured eyes were gazing into yours, a lazy grin on his face. “Hey, you’ll need to get less jumpy when I do that else she’s definitely not gonna buy it.” He stood back from you, shrugging into his jacket, “Might need a bit more practice, sweetheart,” he smirked, “....so how about we meet up again tomorrow? We can learn a bit more about each other, as well as you getting more comfortable when I get physical with you,” and wiggled his eyebrows at you. Against your better judgement, you agreed and so he said he’d pick you up at four the next day.

Once he’d gone, you poured yourself a stiff brandy. You couldn’t deny you wanted to spend more time with him, much as you knew you were setting yourself up for a fall. Really... just what the hell did you think you were doing?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was thinking the very same thing to himself as he drove away. He was enjoying those kisses way too much. But he was the one who’d suggested this whole fake relationship thing, and definitely with ‘no strings’. Because that was the Russo Way.

He’d better get his head back on straight, and stop thinking about the gorgeous woman in the apartment back there as anything other than a way to ditch the very irritating Caroline.

He also got the distinct feeling she’d marked him out as a player and wouldn’t want to get involved with him anyhow. Well, he was a player and he couldn’t deny that. Wasn’t sure he could ever see himself as a one-woman man. Caroline was attractive enough and in the normal way of things, he’d’ve taken her out maybe a couple of times, fucked and then forgotten her. But her father and Billy’s business relationship complicated things somewhat.

So yeah, he’d make sure she saw him with a lovely woman on his arm at the gala, kiss (and maybe fuck if he got lucky) the lovely woman at the end of the night and move right along. Apart from anything else, the fact that she was Karen’s friend complicated things way beyond what he wanted to get involved in, because he couldn’t afford to upset either her or her friend, Frankie’d kill him if he did.

Definitely better stick with the Russo Way. It had never failed him before, had it?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next day, Billy glided the car to a stop outside her apartment block at 4 o’clock as promised, dropping her a quick text to announce his arrival. Soon, he saw her figure walking out of the main door and making her way towards him.

Damn! Mmm, she was looking good. Little pink sundress, short denim jacket, bare legs and low wedge pink sandals. Yeah, really cute. Smart and funny too. And sexy, of course. Very sexy. Totally fuckable. Completely and utterly fuckable. Woah - stop that Russo! Right now!

All these thoughts ran through his head in the 10 seconds it took her to reach the car.

He leant over and pushed open the passenger door for her, “Hi sweetheart.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d noticed Billy’s eyes running over you as you went up to the car, and then spotted his tongue making a swift trip over his bottom lip as he greeted you. You got the feeling he was looking at you like you were a snack to be consumed. Determined to resist how attracted you felt to him, you hopped into the car and said Hi back. Billy’s big hand landed on your thigh as you fastened your seat belt, his long fingers sliding upwards. Batting them away, you continued clipping yourself in and he laughed, leaning across and pulling you to him, kissing you long and slow. Breaking apart, he said, “Remember we gotta practice, sweetheart,” grinning at you. “Mmmhuh,” you nodded, “I remember you saying that.” “Just relax! Get comfortable with me touchin’ and kissin’ you. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend after all.” “Mmmhuh,” you said again, and once more his hand found its way onto your thigh and began stroking, eventually inching upwards again.

This time, you decided to stay still, thinking that yes, you had better get comfortable with this if this whole stupid fake relationship thing was going to work. But when his hand parted your legs and one long slim finger swiftly made its way inside your panties and - without further warning - actually inside you, you jumped like a startled deer and squirmed away from him. “Billy!” you protested loudly, but he merely smirked victoriously at you and pushed a second finger inside you to join its cousin. You shoved at his resistant arm, “Stop it!” His mouth found yours and he began kissing you as his fingers moved steadily in and out of you then his thumb was on your clit, and he began massaging firmly. “Sssshhh, sweetheart, we’re just messin’ around,” you heard his low voice in your ear, “...this is high school stuff.” “But I didn’t say you could do this to me!” you snarled, trying to ignore how good he was making you feel, and you felt his fingers leave you. He sat back in his car seat, taking a tissue out of his jacket pocket and slowly wiping his fingers, looking across at you all the while with a contemplative look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but not sounding regretful at all, “I didn’t think you’d mind. Thought it’d loosen you up a bit like we said.” He smirked at you, “You can’t deny I got you wet, and I know you’re attracted to me. Thought you’d enjoy it.” Your mouth dropped open, “You arrogant fucker!” you exclaimed, “You know what, you can take your fake dating shit and shove it where the sun doesn’t fucking shine!” You jumped out of the car, slamming the door with an almighty bang behind you. Stomping back up to your apartment, you opened your front door and slammed it behind you too, angrily throwing your bag onto the sofa as you passed on your way to the kitchen. You took off your jacket and threw it onto a high stool, furious enough to take a bottle of gin out of the cupboard and grab a clean glass from the dishwasher. You were just taking a bottle of tonic water out of the fridge when there was a knock at your door.

Okay, well that was either your annoying across-the-hall neighbour... who complained about anything and everything... here to moan about the door-slamming, or else it was Billy. Whoever was on the other side of the door was going to be greeted by your frowning face, and you really didn’t give a shit which one it was. You dramatically swung open the door, and it was in fact Billy Russo who was confronted by your unhappy visage. He immediately held up his hands in a placatory gesture. “Look, I am really, truly, sorry. I ... can I come in and explain?” You turned on your heel and walked back to the kitchen, leaving him to close the door behind him and follow in your footsteps. “Want a drink?” He nodded, “I’d love a beer if you’ve got one, please.” You took a bottle of beer out of the fridge and handed it to him, then got a bottle top remover for him out of one of your drawers.

He popped off the cap then took a long swig, as he watched you prepare a G&T for yourself. You also took a big sip then leant back against the counter and regarded him with a steely gaze. “You said you wanted to explain.” He took another gulp of beer and began, “I.... look, I’m so sorry okay? I totally misread the situation.” Sipping your gin, you said, “I’ll say you did, Billy! I get the distinct impression you mistook me for one of the easy lays you no doubt pick up in bars. Is that how you treat your one-and-done’s, huh? Well, don’t try that shit with me, okay?” He looked over at you shamefaced and shrugged, “Uhhh...I ..uhh.. yeah, I guess I did.... look, I really am sorry, sweetheart. I can’t apologise enough, and I really didn’t mean to upset you.” You took another big hit of your gin, slightly - but only very slightly - mollified. “And as for your comment that I’m attracted to you...!!!” Momentarily you were speechless, unsure what you wanted to say or how to put it. Mainly because it was the truth, you acknowledged to yourself.

Before you could say anything, Billy held up his hands again, “I’m incredibly embarrassed about saying that. Really crass. And arrogant, as you said.” You noticed that his face had pinked up somewhat. “In fact just forget I said it,” he carried on. “Bit late for that now isn’t it! Did you say it because you’re used to women falling at your feet, Billy?”

He looked down at the beer bottle in his hand, waggling it back and forward before saying, “Yeah. If I’m honest, I don’t usually haveta try too hard.” His eyes met yours, “And if I’m bein’ even more honest, gotta admit I’m attracted to you. Like, really attracted. So, yeah - I was hoping for something more than just going to the charity event with you.”

You drew in a big breath. What? What did he just say to you? No. You mentally shook your head, and then realised you were actually shaking it. “Billy.... you’re a player, that much is blatantly obvious. Would you know what a relationship is if it came up and bit you on the ass? Something tells me you wouldn’t.” He had the grace to look guilty. You continued, “So here’s what we’ll do. If you still need me to come along to the gala, then I’ll do that. And then we’ll go back to being strangers. Okay?”

He twirled his beer bottle between his long fingers, and shrugged, “Okay, sweetheart. M’happy you’re still gonna help me out. But can’t we at least be friends afterwards? Reckon Karen ‘n Frank’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other so we’ll probably keep bumping into each other.” Your face softened into a smile, “Yeah, they like each other don’t they? You’re right, we probably will be spending some time together because of those two. Okay... friends, then.”

He smiled at you, approaching warily and sliding his hand round to the back of your head and up into your hair, pulling you closer. “M’gonna kiss you, s’that okay?” but being Billy, didn’t wait for your reply. His lips met yours in a gentler kiss than earlier, his fingers stroking the back of your neck. He moved his hips against yours, and you knew he’d done this so you’d feel his erection against your body. You moved sideways and pulled away from him, why did he have to make you breathless when you just wanted to be cool, calm and collected around him? He looked a bit crestfallen, but recovered swiftly and asked, “How about we order in some food and just spend some quality time together?” You sighed, “Okay, Billy, let’s do that. But no more groping or anything, okay?” He nodded, looking serious and miming a cross over his heart, “Promise.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You pushed the pizza box away from you, “God, I’m stuffed.” Billy picked up his beer bottle and drank, giving a small delicate burp as he did so, “Me too.” Reaching over, he picked up the remote and began flicking through Netflix, “Whaddya wanna watch next?” he asked. “Mmmm, you pick a movie. But not one about war.” He laughed, “Oh don’t worry, I never watch war films, had enough-a that in real life.” Lying back and letting out a deep breath, you said apologetically, “I bet you did. Sorry.” Shrugging, he also lay back, his head turning towards you, “S’okay. We can talk about it sometime if you like. And about my less-than-perfect childhood. And some of my more recent fuck-ups.” He gave a bitter laugh, “I’m a fuckin’ train wreck, sweetheart - you’ve made the right decision, best you don’t get involved with me.” His eyes looked big and a bit glossy, and before you could help yourself you’d laid your hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure you’re not that bad, Billy.” He turned away from you, looking at the TV before selecting a sci-fi fantasy movie, “Oh believe me, I am,” he said in a low voice.

You shifted a bit closer to him on the sofa, “Don’t be so down on yourself, Billy. You’ve achieved a lot of things... got your own company, fancy car, fine suits, lots of money, prestige.” He grinned at you, “But all that doesn’t matter to you, does it?” You shook your head, “No, but they’re still achievements to be proud of.” His head dropped and some locks of hair fell over his forehead. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and you watched as your hand went of its own accord to his face and stroked the errant hair back off his forehead. His head swivelled towards you, dark eyes gazing into yours; he took hold of your arms and drew you against his chest. “Can we snuggle?” he asked you, then wrapped his arms right around you, before lying down and swinging his long legs up onto the sofa, pulling you with him. You snorted out a laugh, “Snuggle? That doesn’t exactly fit with your ex-soldier or current playboy personas!” “Aw, c’mon sweetheart, gimme a break - I’m tryin’ to be a well-behaved boy here!” You snuggled into his chest a bit, “Okay, but remember - no wandering hands!” He held up both hands, “Not wandering - look!” before placing them chastely on your arm and shoulder.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your eyes opened, and you groggily looked around you, disorientated. Hearing soft little snores from beneath you, you raised your head to look at Billy’s sleeping face. Oh. You’d both obviously dozed off in front of the TV, the Netflix menu now on the screen. Moving slowly, you started to try and stand up but two hands went round your arms in a vice-like grip. “Where you off to?” said Billy’s deep voice. “Just...ummm... just...” you stuttered, but suddenly you were underneath him, his weight pressing you down as his mouth found yours in a hungry kiss. You knew you should resist but damn, he was a good kisser! Feeling yourself dissolve into the kiss, one of your hands moved up to his bristly jawline.

His kisses became more passionate and he pushed himself against you even more, his arousal very evident. You tried to ignore them but your feelings of desire for him were becoming overwhelming, and your arms went round his neck almost unbidden. He was smiling against your lips, and you heard, “Wanna sleep with me? D’you wanna?” Your treacherous mouth said “Yes!” in a breathy whisper, and that was all Billy needed to hear.

He picked you up in his arms, whispering “Where’s your bedroom?” You nodded towards its general direction and he carried you across the apartment and into your room. Setting you down, his fingers were immediately at the zip of your dress, pulling it down, pushing the fabric down then further down until your dress was round your ankles, before whipping it fully off and dropping it onto the floor. You watched him as his eyes roamed all over your body, taking in your lacy lingerie and moving the straps of your bra off your shoulders. “Mmmmm, sweetheart - wow - even better than I imagined,” he said hoarsely, his hands going round your back and unclipping your bra. He stripped it off you and dropped it, both hands immediately cupping your breasts and massaging firmly, thumbs running over your nipples as they peaked. Moving you backwards until your head hit the pillows, you felt his fingers pulling the fabric of your panties aside and suddenly the head of his cock was at your core and pushing inside you. “No time for foreplay, sorry,” you heard and you gave a deep groan when he kept going, feeling his balls brushing your pussy as he fully sheathed himself. His head went back and he gasped, “Fuck!” before he began to thrust. He lifted your legs and draped them over his hips, encouraging you to cross your ankles on his back to pull him even closer.

His mouth was everywhere on you, kissing you deeply one minute before his mouth went to one of your nipples, teasing it with his tongue while his thumb and fingers toyed with the other, then his mouth and teeth were on your neck and shoulders while he set a ferocious pace. A constant stream of low groans were leaving your lips as he moved on you, and you could hear him gasping and muttering words above you, not all of which you could catch, but you did hear “Uhhh, been wantin’ to do this to ya since the minute we met” between thrusts. You ran your hands over his chest and up around his neck, threading your fingers through his lush hair, and you felt him shiver as you pulled on it gently. His thumb was on your clit now, rubbing at you relentlessly and your orgasm washed over you like a wave. His teeth were fastened onto your shoulder and he bit down as you felt his body tense as he came. He lowered himself gently onto you before rolling off, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he got his breath back. “Wow,” he said quietly, before moving onto his side and gazing at you, running a finger gently along your jaw. “Yes, wow,” you replied, putting your hand on his bristly cheek.

“Well, if Caroline does ask if we’ve slept together, now we don’t have to lie,” smirked Billy. This instantly ruined the mood and you sat up, prior to wrapping one of the covers round you and getting out of bed. He looked a bit surprised, but you began moving away from the bed towards the bathroom. Returning a few moments later, you hesitated for a moment before climbing back into bed beside Billy, who was still lying there in all his naked glory. He immediately moved next you, his hands on your arm, “Did I say something wrong earlier? You were up and off like a ballistic missile.” You looked over at him, “A girl doesn’t exactly like to hear another one’s name getting mentioned just seconds after lovemaking.” A guilty look passed over his face, “Awww, shit!... I didn’t think, I’m really sorry... I was just so happy you slept with me, sweetheart.” He stroked your hair away from your face, “Forgive me? And my big clumsy mouth?” You huffed a bit but eventually nodded, not least due to the soft kisses he was peppering over your face and neck.

He breathed a sigh of relief, “I seem to spend all my time apologising to you,” he chuckled, “I’m really making a mess of this fake dating.” “Can’t argue with you there, Billy,” you agreed. “Look, I’m gonna try a lot harder, okay?” he said, running a finger along your arm. You sighed, “Okay... well here’s hoping it’ll be alright on the night.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The rest of the week, you and Billy had traded phone calls and text messages but (to your secret disappointment) the two of you didn’t meet up. To your mind that could only mean that Billy, who’d admitted to you that he liked the thrill of the chase, had now already caught you so that was it as far as he was concerned. He’d said that his work had been crazy busy but you didn’t feel at all convinced by that.

Friday eventually rolled around, and you were glad you’d decided to take a half day off work to get ready. Karen had strolled up to your desk as you were packing up your stuff before leaving, and you recognised her ‘Serious Talk’ look on her face. She walked along to the elevator with you and followed you inside. “Y’know I hope you really enjoy your evening with Billy tonight, but....” she bit her lip before continuing, “...you know he’s a player, right?” She quickly put her hand on your arm as the elevator reached the ground floor, “I’m not trying to spoil your fun, honestly I’m not, but some of the things Frank’s let slip recently would make your toes curl. Billy’s totally ruthless when it comes to cutting women loose.” The elevator doors opened and you both walked out, with you saying, “Don’t worry Karen, I sussed that out the minute I saw him,” over your shoulder as you continued out into the main lobby. You stopped and turned to her, lowering your voice and continuing, “But I slept with him last weekend and just as expected, he’s avoided meeting up with me all during this week.” Her mouth tightened, and you knew you were in for a Page Lecture. “Gahhh! What were you thinking?! You’ve just reinforced his impression that he can pull any woman he wants and then disappear on her! I can’t believe you didn’t even wait for this gala thing tonight! You could at least have held off till then.”

“Yes, mom,” you sighed, then smiled at her. “But you know what Karen, he’s so hot I just couldn’t resist! And I knew exactly what his reaction would be, and he hasn’t disappointed. He’s been in touch obviously because we’ve got this thing tonight, but he’s been ‘too busy at work’ to meet up. I’m sure that in Russo-speak, that really means ‘too busy chasing tail’ but I’m cool with that. Like I said, it’s what I expected,” shrugging as you said this. “Hmmmm,” replied Karen, staring at you intensely as if trying to read your mind, “...well as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” “I do,” you reassured her, hugging her before walking away with a nonchalant wave.

Out on the street you exhaled a big breath. If only you truly believed that.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy pulled up outside her apartment block and, as before, texted her to say he was there.

He was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to meet up with her during the week, and was also aware she probably thought he was avoiding her now they’d slept together. But he’d truly been up to his ears in it at work, and he wasn’t yet established enough in the security market to turn down job offers. So he’d taken on probably a few more than he should have done, and both he and Frank had had to weigh in on a couple of them to make sure they were handled correctly.

So apart from calls and texts, he’d had to miss out on seeing her. In fact, all he’d been thinking of the entire week was the prolonged session they’d indulged in last weekend. Once he’d apologised for mentioning Caroline’s name after they’d first made love, (really smart move Russo, he thought to himself) there had been a whole night of energetic and very enjoyable sex. Then a shared shower late the next morning after she’d woken him up with a surprise and very welcome blow job. God, the things she could do with her mouth! He squirmed in his seat, starting to get hard just thinking about it. He couldn’t wait for another one of those, that was for sure. Tonight after the gala if he was lucky!

He saw the main door to her apartment block open and she started walking towards the car. Wish I could get a better idea of how she looked in her dress, he thought. Oh well, I’ll just need to wait till we actually get to the place.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You slid into Billy’s flashy car, tucking your feet in last in an effort to be elegant. He leaned over, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you long and hard. You eventually shoved him away, exclaiming “Billy! My lipstick!” You peered at his face, “And you’re covered in it!”

He burst out laughing, “Well, hello sweetheart!”

You handed him a tissue whilst you began trying to repair the smudges around your lips. He dampened it on his tongue and then quickly rubbed the burgundy colour off his mouth. Once you’d fixed your face, you leant over towards him and his mouth headed to yours again but you pulled back. “I’m checking your shirt collar to make sure there’s none on there!” Chuckling, he started up the car, “I did wonder why you waited till you’d put your lipstick back on before kissin’ me again.” “You kissed me!” you protested. He just laughed and manoeuvred the car into the traffic stream.

His head then swung towards you, “If you say so, sweetheart! Hey, I’d say you look beautiful but I can’t get a proper look at you in the car. So wait a little while till we get there and then I can compliment you properly, okay?” You nodded, “Yeah, same. I can’t get a look at you either.” Another chuckle, “You can see as much of me as you want later tonight, sweetheart.” “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?!” Billy’s hand stole onto your thigh and travelled higher. “Wearin’ panties?” You tolerated his wandering fingers, “Yes I am, Marine. Sorry to disappoint.” He shrugged, smirk firmly in place, “Fine by me. They’re not gonna stop me gettin’ to where I wanna be anyhow.” Somewhat surprisingly to you, his hand went back onto the steering wheel. “But I’m gonna wait till we’re alone later. See, sweetheart - I’ve learned my lesson!” “Glad to hear it!” you shot back at him, before looking out of the window at the passing streets.

After arriving and parking at the venue, one of the big downtown hotels, you and Billy made your way upstairs to the function room. Leaving your coats at the cloakroom, Billy twirled you round in front of him, looking you over slowly from top to toe. “You look gorgeous,” he said admiringly, “really beautiful.” “Thank you. Not so bad yourself, Russo.” He was in one of his bespoke suits and was looking edible. He mock-bowed then leant down and kissed you on the lips, and you reminded yourself to act naturally when he did that. You both began walking towards the sound of music and chatter, his hand straying down onto the top of your ass as you went. Karen’s voice rang in your ears about how much of a player he was, and once again you fought the instinct to swat his hand away. If you could just do your duty and get through tonight, then you could put yourself deep into protective mode over this handsome devil.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Several gin & tonics later, you were returning from the ladies’ room and heading back to where you’d left your ‘boyfriend’ at the bar, wondering how much more of this tedious event you could stand, when you heard a high-pitched voice trilling, “Oh Billy! There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Hahah! you thought, this must be the infamous Caroline! Well, at least this next part is going to inject some much-needed fun into the evening.

You could see a small brunette standing in front of Billy with her hands grasping his biceps and beginning to pull him towards her. He spotted you approaching over her shoulder and extricated himself from her clutches saying, “Caroline.... how nice to see you! Just in time for me to introduce you to my girlfriend...” “Girlfriend?!” She whirled round and met your eyes, her own narrowing as she looked you up and down in a flash. You continued walking towards the two of them, noting that she was pretty but was heavily made up; she really didn’t need to plaster it on like she had but - whatever, you thought. Billy moved past her to swiftly put his arm around your waist and draw you to him, introducing you at the same time. She nodded her head briefly at you, “Hi, I’m Caroline. A friend of Billy’s.” She emphasised the word ‘friend’. You beamed back a big smile at her, “Lovely to meet another of his friends,” you said, also emphasising the word. You felt Billy tense up a bit, but you thought that playing the jealous girlfriend might be a good way to go, especially when you noticed the little smirk on her face. You tugged on his arm, “C’mon Billy, you promised me a dance,” you said in a ‘little girl’ voice, which nearly made you heave quite frankly but you felt struck the right note.

Billy raised a hand vaguely towards Caroline as he said to you, “Yes I did, sweetheart. Let’s go. Bye, Caroline - good to see you,” and then gave you a long kiss as the two of you headed to the dance floor. Once Billy had you in his arms, you felt his lips next to your ear and he whispered, “So.... jealous girlfriend, huh?” You nodded, smiling up at him, “She’ll like the fact that I think she’s a threat. But as long as you keep up the PDA’s, I think she’ll buy it.” He immediately kissed you, the hand which had been on your waist surreptitiously sliding downwards at the same time. As you broke apart from the kiss, you caught sight of Caroline glaring at the two of you from a table near the edge of the dance floor. You ran your hand up onto Billy’s jaw before continuing to the back of his neck. You’d discovered during your night together that this was one of Billy’s weak spots, so you trailed your fingers over his skin and had him wrapped round your finger within seconds, just as had happened that other night. He pressed his body close against you, ensuring you felt how aroused he was. “When can we skip out of here?” he breathed to you, making you laugh. “I don’t know! It’s your event - when do you want to stay until?”

Before he could reply, you were aware of a figure next to you and a hand went onto Billy’s arm. “Mind if I cut in?” asked Caroline, giving you a nasty smirk. However it dropped off her face when Billy said hurriedly, “Sorry, Caroline - we’re just leaving,” and began leading you off the dance floor. “Oh, that’s such a shame,” you heard, and realised she was trailing after you and Billy as you left the dance floor. “I was so looking forward to hearing all about how you & Billy met.” You stole a quick glance at Billy before saying over your shoulder, “Through mutual friends.” Still following you both as you headed over to pick up your coats, she rattled out, “it’s just that I’m a bit surprised - it seems quite strange that Billy never mentioned a girlfriend before tonight.” Billy looked irritated but his face became blank as he turned slightly back towards her and replied, “Uh, I am right here y’know!.... well Caroline, we never spoke about our personal lives so it’s not that strange at all to be honest.” You’d reached the small counter by now and had handed over the tickets to the attendant, and while you’d hoped that Billy’s answer would have silenced her, Caroline continued, “So how long have you been dating?” You turned and stared at her, and found her already staring back at you, “Mmm, it’s about two months now, isn’t it Billy?” and moved your eyes to his. He glanced quickly behind him at her, “ Yes, sweetheart - a little over two months actually,” he turned back to you, smiling fondly, “and I gotta say, they’ve been two of the sweetest months of my life.” He leant down and kissed you full on the lips.

Caroline’s lip curled up at this and was still curling as you met her annoyed gaze once Billy’s lips left yours. “Well,” she began, but was then interrupted by a tall older man who came up to the three of you and placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “Hello, Russo,” he said, shaking hands with Billy who greeted him with a “Hi, Mike,” as the older guy’s eyes wandered quizzically over to you. “And who’s this lovely young lady, then?” he asked but before either you or Billy could say anything, Caroline spat out, “His girlfriend, Daddy - imagine that!” However her father merely gave you a friendly grin while Billy introduced you. After a quick handshake, he commented that it was a real shame that you were both leaving before he could buy you a drink. But Billy said firmly, with a mischievous look at you, “Sorry, Mike.... we’re... uhhh... quite anxious to get home.” Mike laughed knowingly while you heard a loud ‘tut’ from his daughter. You smiled brightly at both of them, “Well.... lovely to meet you and hope you enjoy the rest of the evening. Bye!” Taking your coat from the attendant, Billy helped you into it before putting on his own and the two of you said final goodbyes to Mike and Caroline before making your escape.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Thank god that’s over!” you breathed out a sigh of relief as you settled back into your seat, while Billy switched on the car’s powerful engine and it purred into life. “You didn’t enjoy it?” he grinned, “...even with such a charming boyfriend attending to your every need all evening?!” You laughed, “Sorry Billy, no I didn’t. I hated every second of it! But I think we accomplished the mission, don’t you?” Turning your head and watching his profile as he reversed the car out of the parking space, you asked, “D’you want me to get the dress dry-cleaned and you can take it back to the store? I mean I’ve only had it on for a few hours and I managed not to spill anything down it.” He glanced over at you, a strange look in his eyes. “No, I don’t want you to clean it and return it. It’s yours to keep. And yes, we did achieve our goal.” He started driving away from the hotel, and you realised it was the wrong direction for your place. You’d never been to his apartment but had a feeling that’s where you were heading.

“Where are you going, Billy? I just want dropped off at home so I can get out of all of this and relax.” He laughed, and for some reason you thought he sounded a bit pissed off. “Ahh no, that’s not happenin’, sweetheart,” he said, looking across at you, eyes gleaming with something but you weren’t sure exactly what. Determination? Desire? “We’re headin’ to mine. And yeah, you’re gonna be gettin’ out of those clothes, don’t worry.” “Look, Billy,” you said, feeling a bit uneasy for some reason, “...we’re done here, okay? We’ve already slept together, you got what you wanted so now you move on, correct? That’s your usual M.O. isn’t it? You made that obvious this week. Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear. I’m not some clingy desperate woman that’s gonna keep chasing after you. I knew what the deal was with you the minute I set eyes on you. So.... just turn around and take me home.” You’d been staring at the road ahead but were aware of him shaking his head, “No.” You looked across at him, “No? What, you’re kidnapping me now?” “You can think of it that way if you like, sweetheart. I knew you’d think I was avoidin’ you this week, but I wasn’t. I’m not ready to let you get away just yet. We’re gonna go to mine, and you’re gonna spend the night on your back - and in various other positions - cos I need another night of sex with you.”

“And what if that’s not what I want? What if I don’t want to be used like a fuck toy before you disappear over the horizon? Doesn’t it matter to you what I want?” He chuckled, and you felt a little shiver of fear run through you, “Not right now, no. Because this is all I’ve been thinkin’ about the whole week. And because you’re sayin’ one thing, but you mean another.” “Really?! That’s what you think?” you scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that? The level of arrogance....!” He pulled the car over into the inside lane and then turned into an underground car park. He killed the engine, and in the sudden silence you heard him say in a low voice, “Call it arrogance if you like. I call it knowing what I want and makin’ sure I get it.” He released his seat belt and got out of the car, coming round and opening your door before taking hold of your arm and pulling you out of it. He locked the car with a bleep of the remote on his keychain, then dragged you - firmly but not roughly - over to an elevator which he unlocked with a key before calling it down. Once it arrived, he hustled you inside and once the doors closed, his mouth was instantly on yours. He kissed you roughly, open-mouthed with teeth and lips and tongue all involved. His hands were undoing the buttons on your coat and then were inside it, immediately going to your breasts.

You struggled with him, trying to push him off but he continued kissing you, and you heard his voice telling you to just admit you wanted it. The awful thing was, you did want him and it annoyed the hell out of you. However his current attitude was also annoying the hell out of you so you continued to push at his muscled, toned body to get him off you. But you were no match for the ex-Marine and you heard a ‘ting’ and the elevator doors opening as Billy continued to kiss and grope you. He pushed you firmly out of the lift, keeping hold of your arm and propelling you towards a door - the only door, you noticed - and then into the apartment after he unlocked the door. He slammed it behind him then was on you in a flash, grabbing your bag and throwing it onto the sofa before stripping off your coat and dropping it on the floor. You were aware of being in a large open-plan space with floor-to-ceiling windows and trendy furniture, before you were scooped up as easily as if you were a throw cushion and carried into an equally large bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and dumped you rather unceremoniously on the bed, stripping his clothes off in a matter of seconds and letting them fall where they may. Then he was back on you, flipping you over and unzipping your dress in one quick motion. He stripped it down off your shoulders, turned you back over and pulled it off you. You looked up at him, finally finding your voice, “Billy! Stop it.” He shook his head, “Nah, not happenin’ sweetheart. We’re gonna have sex now.” You opened your mouth but nothing would come out. Why couldn’t you say anything else?

Because you do want it, said a sly voice in your head. And whilst the caveman routine might not be the most appealing of Billy’s wooing techniques, he’d excited you beyond belief and you could feel how damp your panties were. You’d told yourself before the evening started that you weren’t going to have sex with him that night, but at the same time had perversely hoped that it would in fact happen. You were absolutely furious with yourself but at the same time, totally conflicted and unable to ignore the desire you felt for him.

You felt his fingers fumbling a bit at your back and then your bra was dramatically whipped off and thrown across the room. His mouth and hands were immediately on your breasts, fingers massaging and toying with one nipple while he licked the other, his tongue roughly raking over its peak and surrounding skin before he started to suck and bite at it, enough to make you squeal but not hard enough to cause you real pain. Then he swapped and your other breast came in for the same treatment. You felt his fingers sliding down your body and pulling at your panties, after a few seconds he then sat up and stripped them off you. They also joined your bra across the other side of the room. He lowered himself onto you, hands parting your legs and you knew he was guiding himself inside you. His hard length pushed into you and you felt the stretch much more than you had the first time you’d had sex with him. Of course he was in a more of a rush this time, seemingly desperate to have sex with you, judging by the way he’d thrown you down, ripped your clothes off and immediately got between your legs.

He slid his hands under your knees and lifted your legs up until your ankles were on his shoulders, deeply thrusting into you as he did so, and you heard yourself give a loud groan. He gave a long, low groan himself as he picked up his pace, and you heard his whispered words next to your ear, “You like that, sweetheart? Feel good?” “Yes!!!!!” you gasped, hating yourself for admitting it but it was the absolute truth. He kissed you passionately, hands running up and down your legs and onto your body as he thrust hard into you, mouth moving to your neck and collarbone, nipping at your skin then licking where he’d lightly bitten you. You climaxed first, Billy’s thumb having found its favourite place on your clit, and you’d dug your nails into his shoulders before running your hands up into his hair and pulling it. Hearing his answering chuckle, his hips cannoned into yours a final few times before you felt him release into you, and he sank down heavily on top of you, panting and trying to get his breath back. He moved off you and laid on his back, seemingly exhausted by his over-eager exertions. His head tilted towards you, “I’m not finished with you yet, sweetheart. Need more.”

You propped yourself up on an elbow, “Just what the fuck is all this neanderthal stuff about, Billy?” He sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. “Remember you said I wouldn’t know what a relationship was if it bit me on the ass?” “Yeah?” “You’re right. I’ve never experienced a loving relationship in my life. I dunno what love is, really.” Then out it all spilled.... his abandonment as a very young kid, the group homes, the abuse, the stigma. How he’d signed up for the Marines as soon as he was old enough, got a business degree before shipping out, how Frank had his back almost from day one. The dark eyes eventually looked into yours, “So just confirmin’ - I’m officially shit at relationships.” You nodded thoughtfully, “Well... now I understand things a little bit better, Billy. You discard women after a very short time as a self-defence measure, because you have a fear of being abandoned again. Ditch them before they can ditch you, right? Because you still have self-esteem issues, deep down underneath that confident exterior. It’s hard to overcome years of being looked down upon and sidelined.” You reached out and ran your fingers through his small patch of chest hair. He flinched slightly so you withdrew your hand, but his own hand went out and he laid it on top of yours for a brief moment.

Then he sat up a bit and stretched, laughing as he did so, “Told you, you’re in the wrong job, sweetheart.” He leaned back onto the pillows, carefully looking away from you, “Guess I didn’t do a very good job of lettin’ you know I want you to stay around and be with me?” You sat up, pulling one of the sheets over you, “What?” you asked. He looked over at you again, “All of this,” his hand waved vaguely between you and him, “This is me tryna let you know I really like you. I honestly missed bein’ with you during the week. An’ I was really busy, me and Frank, all week - I wasn’t tryna avoid you, okay? All I could think about was the night we spent together, how I want that to be a regular thing. Spend time with you.”

You started chuckling to yourself before it bubbled up into real laughter. He’d been looking down and fidgeting with the covers but now his head swung up and his eyebrows pulled into a frown. You calmed down a little and reached out to him, softly stroking his shoulder, “Billy... I’m not really laughing at you. Well, I suppose I am but only because I’m really surprised. That’s not how guys usually let girls know they’re interested! - kidnapping them and telling them that they will have sex with them.” Billy grunted, “Yeah, I realise that. It’s what I’m tryna tell you, sweetheart. I’m shit at this kinda stuff.”

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Sunday lunchtime, you met up with Karen who was gagging to know what had happened on Friday night. You dutifully recounted everything, even Billy’s metamorphosis into caveman as you left the hotel. Karen’s expression got more and more incredulous and as you drew to a close with his admission of being completely crap at all things relationship-related, she finally said, “Fuck! That’s unbelievable. So how did you leave things? You kick him to the curb?”

You took a sip of your G&T, and smiled back at her, “He wants me to teach him what a real relationship is all about.”

“And you’re prepared to take a chance on him and show him, are you?” You nodded, “Yeah I guess I am, Karen. I know it sounds crazy, but he wants to try. And I’d like to try. So we went from fake to genuine as of Friday night.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and sipping her drink before saying, “Well, you’re a glutton for punishment, I’ll say that for you. And I wish you the best of luck trying to tame that bad boy.” She lifted her glass and you clinked yours against hers, “Thanks, Karen. I’m just gonna take it one day at a time. If it doesn’t work out...” you shrugged, “...at least I gave it a shot.” She put her hand over yours, “Do you think he’ll keep it in his pants? He’s used to putting it about all over town,” squeezing your hand, “...sorry to have to say that honey, but it’s true.” You nodded, “Yeah I know, and all I can say is he’s promised he won’t be doing that from now on. But if I get even a whiff of another woman’s perfume off him, I will be kicking him to the curb faster than he can say ‘it’s not what you think, sweetheart’, believe me! And I’ve told him that too, in no uncertain terms.” She nodded, “Well, you’ve given him fair warning so if he fucks up, that’s definitely on him.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank threw his head back, giving a great belly laugh which went on for a lot longer than Billy Russo thought it should do. After a few moments, Frank’s face had gone beet red and tears were squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. Billy folded his arms across his chest, sitting back in the diner booth and scowling at Frank, “Okay, okay, Frankie - enough already,” he grumbled as Frank continued to laugh. Eventually Frank calmed down enough to speak, “Russo! I don’t believe it, I really don’t. Does that girl know what she’s letting herself in for?! She must be missing a few rounds out of her ammo clip.” Billy pulled a face, “Look... I like her, okay? She’s gonna teach me what a proper relationship’s like. She’s willin’ to give me a chance, so cut me some slack over here, will ya?” Frank took a big pull at his beer, “Oh Russo, how the fuck ya gonna keep it in your pants?” (unknowingly parroting Karen’s very same comment to her friend). Billy shrugged, “Look...I will, I tell ya. I mean it, I only want her. The sex is....” he made a chef’s kiss hand gesture, “....and she doesn’t take any of my shit, either. I really like her, Frankie. I think I’m ready to...” “Settle down? Really, Bill - are you? Cos if you fuck this up, you’ve got Karen to deal with as well as your girl.”

Billy took a hit of his beer, “You think I don’t know that? And I’d get a ton of crap from you too, cos Karen’d be upset. You like her, dontcha?” Frank’s cheeks went a slight shade of pink, “Well, yeah. I guess I do.” Now it was Billy’s turn to laugh, “You guess you do? Frankie, you’re like a teenager with a major crush every time your phone rings! ‘Ooh, it’s Karen!’” he said, the last bit in a high-pitched voice. “I do not talk like that!” Frank growled at him, “And you better spend your energy learning how to treat a woman properly, rather than ripping the shit outta me, Russo!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your phone dinged and you picked it up, seeing a text notification from Billy on the screen. Turning your phone briefly towards Karen to show her this, you clicked on it and then smiled as you read it. Showing the message to her, she also smiled, “Wow, seems like he’s definitely trying!” You agreed, “I do believe he is!” Maybe this crazy relationship thing you and Billy had agreed to embark on did have a chance of working out after all. You definitely still had your misgivings - does a leopard (or panther) really change its spots? - but you were willing to give it a try as long as Billy stuck to his end of the bargain. No other women, no lying, spending a lot of quality time together... let’s just see how all that goes, you thought. Re-reading the text, it made you smile once more.

Billy’s text said simply, “I’m missing you, sweetheart. Come over to mine, I’ll cook you dinner.”

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(My photo edit)

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Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry

(Using D&D’s taglist, if you’d prefer to be removed, just let me know!)

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#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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hongism · 3 years

Text

touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

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Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It��s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios

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kimtaejin · 3 years

Text

La Luxure (m.)

↳ Thank you to @kim-seok-jin for the beautiful banner and dividers, and to @chillingtae for helping her with it! ^^

Heartbroken and done with relationships, Y/N decides to vent about her breakup to the sweetest bartender. Yet just a glance in his dark eyes is enough to tell her that maybe, just maybe she won’t spend the night crying for an ex-boyfriend, but drowning in her lust for him instead.

↠ Pairing: Jungkook × f.reader

↠ Word Count: 10.9k

↠ Genres: Angst, smut, fluff, (slight) crack (if you squint)

↠ Rating: 18+

↠ Trigger Warnings: Breakups and toxic relationship, cheating, swearing, physical fight, drama, alcohol, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, hinted voyeurism, one night stand, long foreplay, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, degrading, creampie

⇢ This story was written as a birthday gift to @rubinora. We hope you had an amazing day! :D ⇠

Soojin: Y/N come quick.

You take a deep breath. I’m almost there, Soojin, I’m almost there. The sound of your footsteps against the pavement is the only thing you hear. You would’ve made it. You would’ve made it in time if it wasn’t for your pesky co-workers.

To the usual person, it is a cool Friday night.

To you, it is one of the worst days of your life.

… Or maybe you wouldn’t go as far as to call it that. Maybe, in the future, you would even call this one of your good days.

But for now?

You smile bitterly, uncaring who sees. Right now- there’s nothing more you want to do than scream. Yell. Anything to take away the fury and pain burning bright in your chest.

Your eyes fall on a couple as you pass them by, reminding you of the reason you’re out in the streets this late at night, instead of relaxing at home.

Jihyuk.

Your boyfriend.

Someone you had a deep admiration for. Someone you loved.

Someone who doesn’t feel the same way anymore.

It had all started when you had seen him come home hours later than usual. You gave him the benefit of the doubt. You told yourself that he must be out in town with his friends while you were at work, since he must’ve been bored alone. Because the deal is, he wasn’t employed. He had neither a job nor a penny in his bank account.

And that’s where you helped him. You were the worker. You put a roof over his head, you were the reason he had food on the plate everyday. You were there when he needed to buy anything. It felt more like you were a single parent providing for a child rather than a real, romantic relationship. And that should’ve been more than enough of a reason to leave him but you didn’t.

And now you regret it.

The next thing that came were the hickies on his neck. Purple bruises put on display, with his flushed cheeks- sometimes he was even drunk. Still, you helped him. Still, you gave him the benefit of a doubt, even when his ears turned red when you asked him if he was lying about just hanging out with friends.

Because there was no point in asking and answering. You already knew what he was doing, already saw the truth in his eyes.

And somehow still, everytime your friends would show you Jihyuk kissing some other girl, every time they’d tell you that they saw him out with some chick, you’d tell them they had to be seeing things. That the pictures could be photoshopped. Or maybe this was just a joke to make you dump him. But those things weren’t things you were saying to them, as much as it was to yourself, to convince your mind that what you saw or heard wasn’t it. It wasn’t the truth.

The truth is everything that has yet to be revealed today.

And at this point, you had gotten over the crying, the weeping, the sorrow and the regret. What is left is the anger- the feeling of being used.

You had given him everything, literally everything, only for him to treat you like some side doll. It hurt then. It hurt even now. It hurt a lot, especially on those nights, when you’d greet him after he came home, the smell of perfume thick on his body, lips bitten and swollen, cheeks red and flushed.

“Do you want dinner?” you’d ask, your eyes wandering anywhere but his face.

“Uh, no, I’m full. I ate out with friends, one of them treated the group.”

Lies. So many lies, told just so you’d keep him under your wing, protected and financially secured.

You smile widely even though inside, your heart wrenches. Why couldn’t he just tell you? It wasn’t like he thought you hadn’t noticed his aloof behaviour. How it affected you in turn.

Or did he? Maybe, he just thought that you were actually that dumb.

Maybe you really were that ignorant.

“Oh... okay. Well... I still have to eat,” you waited for this douche. You can’t believe it. Starved yourself so you could eat dinner with him when he probably was out with a girl. “So… do you want to talk as I eat?”

“Uhm,” his eyes met yours for a moment before he turned them away. “Uh- babe, I’m sorry… I’m tired after the long day, so,” he gave you a small smile. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “If you really want, I can go, but uh, let me take a shower first? Honestly… my, uh, friends can be so rowdy… I’m exhausted, but I guess you were waiting for me and all…”

You bit your lip as the warring thoughts of indignation, and yet also guilt filled you. “No- no, nevermind. If you’re tired,” you clenched your fists, “you should- go rest now.”

“Are you sure, babe? I wouldn’t want you to think I was avoiding you. Maybe I should-”

“No! No, I told you, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re the only person who understands and loves me best,” he praised you- and you felt a spark of fury, of hate and love grow in your chest. Was that all he could say to you? “See you tomorrow, then,” he said, his smile fainting away before walking past you to the bedroom. You stared at him until he left, until you couldn’t see him anymore as his silhouette disappeared upstairs.

The next day went similarly. You had arrived at your empty home.

Why?

Then there were days where you felt a little too insecure and asked him instead.

“Baby, are you… cheating on me?”

His body froze. He didn’t say anything for a moment, sitting on the couch as you had begged him a little earlier to watch a K-drama with you. Maybe it would’ve made the relationship a little better. Maybe you could’ve bonded. But he only seemed to be interested on his phone screen.

“What makes you say that?” Still, his eyes did not lift up to look at you.

“Eun says she saw you with this girl,” you muttered quietly, so quietly that you thought he wouldn’t have heard it. But he did. “She must have seen someone else,” he replied in a nonchalant manner.

“But it really looked like you, she said…”

“Do you believe her over me?” You watched him as he finally looked at you. “I’m your boyfriend, for God’s sake,” you bit your lip, then sighed heavily. It didn’t let all the words escape you. “I know, but…”

“If you want to end this relationship, I won’t stop you. But just know, you won’t find a better guy than me. After all, here I am, taking the time to watch with you, and you accuse me of cheating?”

Maybe you won’t find someone better. But even so, you knew that you didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the late nights, wondering where he was, why he wasn’t home, if you’d done something wrong. No, you deserved better- and even if that better wasn’t from someone else, it certainly wouldn’t be from him.

Jihyuk huffed before standing up, wearing his coat and moments later, you heard the front door open and close. Moments of silence filled the room. You waited for Jihyuk expectantly, waiting for it to open and reveal him, but it didn’t.

“I wish I didn’t meet you.”

You are so over it. You are so over him.

You and Soojin had decided to catch him in the act. Your best friend had come up with the plan, and initially you had been in denial of it. But you had to end this cycle. You were so tired of it, of the constant stress you had to live with, of the burden that you weren’t supposed to carry.

You chose to set him up. If he agreed to Soojin’s advances, you were going to catch him red-handed and break it off right there and then.

And he had done exactly what you didn’t want him to.

Of course he had. You should’ve caught onto him a long time ago, but you really were a fool. And now that disgusted you. Hate intended for him enveloped you for your own self.

Walking into the dim-lit club, you are greeted by the sight of bodies pushing up against each other on the dance floor, the faint smell of alcohol lingering everywhere you step, and a bar, shining the brightest in the place. Silhouettes with their lips’ on one another, people drinking down glasses of liquor by each second that passed. A part of you is disgusted that Jihyuk took Soojin to a club, and the other isn’t surprised at all. No wonder the marks on his neck, his swollen lips.

Y/N: I’m here.

Soojin: Ok I’m in the bathroom hiding he was getting too close

Y/N: Right... lets meet up at the bar then.

Soojin: Ok!

Walking swiftly to the bar, you hope Jihyuk doesn’t see you, though in the wild crowd, you know he likely won’t.

You search for a familiar face as you reach the bar. Your eyes wander and land on the blonde that seems to be looking slightly lost.

“Soojin!” You call out and walk over to her, knowing fully well what is next. “Where is he?”

“Follow me,” you hear her voice above the loud music. Her disheveled figure makes its way to the seats. You can barely see her in the dark place, if not for the neon lightings flashing here and there.

You take a deep breath in.

Under a stray lighting, you catch sight of the hair you used to so fondly caress. Another one beside it, too close for them to be anything but sitting close, closer than friends, and definitely strangers. A few steps closer and you’d be close enough to see them clearly, close enough to catch him cheating perfectly.

Your heart feels numb, for a moment, contrary to before, but-

Three.

It’s funny how you can hear your heels echoing even in this noisy club. Or maybe that’s the beating of your heart.

Two.

Thinking back on everything that you’d gone through with him, if there’s any emotion that you think you should be feeling right now, it’s disbelief. Why? Did all the tender touches, all the kisses, all the ‘I love you’s mean nothing then?

It must, or else this wouldn’t be happening at all. One.

Yet even so, your ever traitorous heart still weeps at the sight before you, as your gazes both match.

Jihyuk’s eyes widen as he sees you. His lips are pressed to the side of a girl’s neck, and even under the dim lighting, you can see the dark splotches of color on her pale skin. The girl beside him whimpers, leaning in closer, seeking his touches, the way he used to make you feel oh so good, your mind whispers.

He only pushes her away, frozen in place as he locks you down with guilt in his eyes.

The loud, deafening music somehow doesn’t matter anymore.

“Y/N,” his voice can barely be heard, but for someone like you who’s watched him utter your name with adoration before, you hear him perfectly.

"Well… I guess I’m not that surprised.” Your words are dry, devoid of feeling. Your fists are clenched. Your smile is wry. “What do you have to say for yourself?" you are going to do this quick, you tell yourself. But the crowd of people overhearing the matter already have their eyes on you.

As it is, even people lost in the rhythm of the club’s music are interested in your confrontation, bodies stopping in motion, only for strange eyes to stare at you with curiosity instead.

It’s scary. You can’t do this, a part of you wants to say- but how long has it been since you’ve kissed someone and felt the butterflies dance in your stomach, telling a tale so similar to the one of your lips? How long has it been since you’ve wanted to do something like that?

Your heart burns.

Truth be told, too long. Too fucking long. You’ve spent too much time in misery for you to turn your back on the person that brought you it. You want to be free. Breathe air without feeling suffocated, sleep without having to think about a person being next to you as you do so.

Free, at last.

“I-” he tries to speak, but you look at him quietly, face devoid of any emotion, only your lips tightening a clue to your current mood.

“Don’t you feel like shit? Leaving me alone on those nights when I actually put a roof over your head, when I’m the main reason you get to eat food every day? Why did you do this to me?”

You know you sound desperate. Here he is, clearly in the arms of another, yet you’re asking him, staring at him, waiting for an answer, an excuse, but he is able to give none. It only makes it all the worse, it only makes you gasp for more air, because each time he doesn’t reply, the walls get tighter and tighter.

“Fuck, if you wanted someone to give you a good time in bed, why couldn’t it have been me? We were in a relationship!” you exclaim. More people are gathering around, but at this point, you can’t care less.

“Could you not control yourself for once?! Do you have no shame coming home each day smelling like sex? Do you not love me?” The last words leave you as a whisper, your voice choked up and your tone vulnerable. It is evident he didn’t love you, if he did then he wouldn’t have done this. But you still wanted to ask. In case there was the smallest chance that he would give you something to hold onto.

“What about the times that you lied? Do you have no heart?” A single tear slips down your cheek.

Fuck. You hate this.

Seconds pass, and nothing but his silence answers you. And when he does- it does nothing but rile you even further.

“Babe…” There’s the guilt in his eyes, that’s true, but it’s eclipsed by the panic, the way he’s obviously trying to assuage your anger. Instead of just admitting it. Instead of asking for your forgiveness.

Not that you would at this point, even if he begged on his knees.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he winces and you sharply smile.

“What, you can, but I can’t? Besides, shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? There I was, wondering where my boyfriend was, someone without a job staying out so late without even a message,” you laugh, as though the entire matter is funny to you, but anyone can easily hear the mockery in your voice. “Then I find out he’s in a club, busy whoring himself out.”

He bristles at that, guilt fading into anger as he stands up. “I’m whoring myself out?”

“Well, what else would you call it? You certainly don’t have any money, after all, not even to afford partying at this club. Isn’t that right? Isn’t that why you ask me for money?” At that, you turn to face his previously ignored companion. Seeing the surprise and growing disgust against your soon-to-be-ex, you ask her gently. It’s all too obvious she didn’t know, after all. And as angry as you are, you won’t blame her for something that’s not her fault.

“Miss, dare I ask, did he have you pay for the drinks?”

She startles, but answers you steadily after a moment. “No, not at the start… but he did insist we pay for our own drinks, and then later on, he told me he left his wallet at home…” Realization colors her features as he reddens in embarrassment and anger. “That asshole, I must have spent more than a hundred dollars by now!”

“Tsk, tsk,” you mockingly shake your head at him, a part of you roaring at the highly humiliated look on his face. Just a glance downwards, and you can see how his fists are clenched, perhaps as tight as yours, veins already bulging out. Just a little more, and you could get him to explode. “Here I was, all but raising you, looking after you and feeding you, taking care of you, and you can’t even learn to have basic decency. Maybe I should feel ashamed, after all… more than being a couple in a relationship, our relationship turned more like mother and son, didn’t it?”

At the very end of your words, you raise your head, laughing. Jihyuk’s face colors to the point that it’s almost violet, and you feel vindictive satisfaction fill you.

“Y/N, you bitch!”

“What,” you scoff. “Did I say something wrong?”

If glares could kill, Jihyuk’s would have long gutted you, but it doesn’t, so you continue to hold your head high, smiling nonchalantly.

His next words make you hiss.

“If you weren’t always so busy, I wouldn’t have to look for someone else. When you came home, you never want to have sex with me, so why is it my fault if I look for someone else, huh!?”

You feel the flames inside you consume you even further, raging inside you and there’s nothing you can do to help relieve yourself of it. Before you know it, you’re stepping forward, arms being raised-

All you want is to make him hurt, like he did you, even if it’s only a fraction of what he’s made you feel. That motherfucker, daring to place the blame on you!?

Hell no.

Hitting him all that matters at the moment- that’s all that runs through your head- but then you suddenly find yourself unable to move, restrained. When you look back, you see Soojin’s face, twisted in worry.

“Soojin, please, let me go!” You hiss furiously, struggling in her hold, trying to get away. Yet, to her credit, Soojin keeps a tight hold on you, not letting you take another step forward. “Are you seriously stopping me from hitting him!? Are you taking his side!?” You ask her in disbelief, even if you know it’s not like that.

“Y/N, I’m not!” Immediately she shakes her head, yet she doesn’t let you go. “But you know you can’t start this here, you-” she bites down on her red lip, shaking her head. “You can’t. Please, you know he’s crazy, what if he hurts you!”

It doesn’t matter, I’m already hurt where it matters most anyway! You want to shout at her, but then you change your mind, glaring at the man you were once stupid enough to call yours.

“If I was ever busy, or tired, I hope you realize that it was always for you! And if I didn’t want to have sex, what did that have to do with you cheating!? Do promises mean nothing to you!? I never asked you for anything more than you being faithful to me, even when you kept asking me for money, even when you lived free at my house, even when you made me into your personal bank and caretaker! You asshole, motherfucker, I hope you rot in hell where cheaters like you belong!”

“Shut up!” He yells back at you, beginning to step forward, and Soojin is dragging you away- but you hold your ground. Let him come, if he wants-

“Shut up!? How can I when I’m not even done yelling about what you did! What, are you ashamed now!?” Only a step away. “How can there be someone as stupid as you who dares to cheat but can’t admit they did!?” His hand raised, curled into a fist. “Not only that, you just took advantage of me because I loved you! You no good, lying, coward-”

You see his punch descending down on you now, yet still you stubbornly look up at him, gritting your teeth. You won’t say sorry, if he wants to punch you, then let him punch you.

Yet still, at the last second, your eyes shut by themselves. You’re angry, yes, you’re furious, but it doesn’t take away the fact that you’re well aware Jihyuk’s stronger, and you’ve never been punched before-

A second passes. You feel nothing. Not the feel of his hand against your face, not the harsh, stinging pain that’d come with it, not the screams of Soojin as she cried.

Two seconds pass. Time is a mere fraction of what it used to be, and yet it’s slowly returning to you as you open your eyes, realizing you were seemingly waiting for nothing at all.

Three seconds pass. Your eyes land on the stranger holding Jihyuk’s wrist with a strong grip, brows furrowed with an intimidating scowl on his face. You step back out of fear.

“I assume, when you came in, you knew the rules of this bar,” the stranger says, voice low, a certain weight behind his every word. “No starting fights. What makes you think you’re an exception to that?”

“Let me go!” Jihyuk hisses, struggling to free his arm from the stranger, yet the other just easily holds him back. “Fuck, you heard what that bitch said about me!?”

“You mean, your ex?” The stranger sighs. “I don’t know if you’re just as stupid as she said you were, if you don’t realize that it’s your fault-”

Whatever he says next, you don’t hear, as you take this advantage to step forward-

-and slap Jihyuk as hard you can.

Your palms immediately sting, but you can’t be bothered to care about that, not when you see the bright red imprint left behind on his face, and the stunned look on his face. Grinning viciously, you hiss at him.

“That’s just a part of the pain you owe me, but considering you’re too dumb to understand something as simple as respect, I’ll just take this as payment.”

“From now on, I want you to fuck off and never appear in front of me again.”

The ringing silence that follows makes you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“... Satisfied?” The unknown man raises a brow at you- and your heart skips a beat for the first time in a while as you swallow, finally calming down a little... It’s loud, crashing, dizzying all at once but you nod at him. Your hands are trembling. You’re about ready to cry but still.

The rest of the words your now ex screams out blur out into the background as Soojin thanks the stranger, leading you away.

The rest of the events happen in what feels to be a flashback you get as you’re taking a sip of beer from the cup leisurely.

The stranger, Jungkook, he had told you his name, was told by your best friend about the problem. He called security, but came first to mediate just in case. After that, he let them take care of Jihyuk. The crowd around you dispersed upon finding out that the scene you had created was over, and Soojin went home after giving you the tightest hug someone had given you in a while now.

Though she tried to persuade you to go home too, you were in obviously no mood to go home- where every inch of the walls was filled with the presence of your- your ex.

It was only after a lot of convincing and reassuring her that you were safe with Jungkook did she leave, her own baby calling for her.

And you stayed at the bar, quietly watching Jungkook work.

During that time, you find out that he’s, overall, a nice guy. He has a cute smile that shows off his teeth perfectly, dark hair that you could imagine him brushing through with his hand, and the cutest, biggest eyes you’ve seen, like a deer caught in the headlights. Adorable.

What surprises you is that he works as a bartender at this place. Which does make sense now that you think about it. But between your dunk mind and slurred words, every little piece of logic is thrown aside.

He had asked if you wanted him to walk you home. You being… well, you, denied almost immediately. Tonight seemed like a good night to get wasted, after all.

“Whatever you say… but you do have the keys to your apartment, right?” the dark-haired man asks, face resting on his hand. He blinks at you under the bright lights of the bar, staring as you take another sip of the alcohol. “Just so your ex doesn’t get in?”

“Of course, I locked it too,” you roll your eyes slightly, glare set on the table below you as you seethe, remembering him. “He’s probably gonna stay at some friend’s place for the night, the jerk. I hope he does, all his friends live miles away. I took the car keys so he can’t drive either, only either walk or take a cab. And considering he barely has any money left...”

You smirk.

A fleeting smile touches on Jungkook’s face as he regards you with awe. “Huh. I guess you put more to your plan than just charging in and breaking up with him, huh?”

“I’m heartbroken, not stupid. It’s an emotional stupidity, not a mental one.”

You huff, once again laying your head back on the cool glass of the table. Fuck, you’re tired. Not just emotionally, but also physically. The night’s events leave you wanting nothing but to stay and drink your sorrows away, uncaring in which bed you’ll be waking up tomorrow.

After all, it’s not like you’ve been to any besides your own for the past few months. Maybe that will bring you some variety at least. The thought makes you laugh bitterly, and in turn down another glass of alcohol.

You hear someone sigh beside you.

“...Right,” he mutters in response, eyes widening shortly after you take another huge gulp of your drink. You suppose, if anything, Jungkook knows how to make delicious drinks. “Don’t drink too much, Y/N, you’re already-” you watch with droopy eyes as he reaches out to you, your head only propped up by your elbow, before stopping with a sigh. “You’re already drunk.”

Ignoring him momentarily, you finish your drink, savoring the taste.

“Sh-shhhuddap,” you slur, the end of your words becoming a sigh. You set the cup aside, only for your head to plop back onto the bar table, a deep breath making your chest rise up- then down. Jungkook frowns at your small figure laying over the bar, the frown forming into a quiet pout.

“Let me… lemme just drink a little bit more, m-m’kay? ’ll jus…jus’ drink ‘nough to not f-feel...”

Whatever words you’re about to say dissolve into incoherent mumblings as you yawn, feeling the effects of numerous glasses of alcohol finally taking their toll on you.

“‘Night, Kook...”

When you wake up, your surroundings are awfully quiet, awfully dark. That is, until you rub your eyes and can see straight. Jungkook’s body comes into view, hand shaking you awake. His low whispers are barely addressed by your ears, and you numb them out until he kneels down to meet eye to eye with you.

Then a sweet smile plays on his lips, and wow.

For a moment, you wonder if this is what heaven feels like.

Then he flicks your forehead, and you’re hurtled back to earth.

“Good, you’re finally awake,” he remarks, smile turning wry on his face. You pout in response, getting up. Your head hurts, it hurts bad, and there seems to be nothing you can do about it as you lean over the bar for support.

“So… urgh, so tired… feeling sick,” you utter beneath your breath, sighing when you realize Jungkook heard it.

“Why’d you even get wasted then? You’ll have to deal with it now,” he frowns, patting your back.

“You don’t get it, dumbass. I’m trying not to remember my ex?” you cross your arms, eyes wandering the place.

The club’s a lot less crowded now, barely any people left except for the ones who are cleaning it up. The music is quieter, playing softly in the background as you turn to Jungkook. Closing time already, you guess.

“... sorry,” you finally say, feeling remorse make space in your heart. “I don’t mean to be so crabby, but fuck, I just feel-” You scrunch up your nose as you try to mull over what you say next. “Actually, I don’t even know what I’m feeling. Except- what the fuck was I thinking, letting it go on for so long?”

Jungkook hums, shrugging. “Everybody makes mistakes, everybody has their own stupid moments. I completely understand.”

“Yeah, and mine lasted for god knows how many years,” you grumble.

For a moment he pauses, and you watch him put away bottles.

“You know, you fell asleep quickly earlier,” he suddenly mentions, making you flush. Ah. Right.

“Oh… yeah, I’m sorry about that,” you sigh. “I must’ve caused you a lot of trouble, having to look after me while you’re also busy with your work.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he shakes his head. “You just broke up with your boyfriend of how many years again?”

“Besides,” he continues, smiling. “If anything, your performance earlier more than made up for it. His face when you slapped him was hilarious.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “... You looked amazing then too.”

“Thanks. … to be honest, just a single slap wasn’t enough, so I definitely had to make it count,” you say, scoffing at the end.

“Yeah, I figured,” the hint of laughter in his voice makes even you smile. “You didn’t yell at him enough, huh?”

“Nope,” you emphatically shake your head. “Which is a shame, because let me tell you- I have a whole speech in my head for him and his douche-assery. I didn’t even touch on the other major fuck ups he did!”

At that, he really does laugh, and you can’t help grinning yourself. “No, I mean it! I was hyping myself up all evening, but then when I actually saw him, my head blanked and- damn it, I should have let him have it even more in front of all those people,” you dramatically groan.

A smile forms on Jungkook’s face, even his eyes curved into a pair of crescent moons and somehow, it makes you somehow feel better just by looking at it.

“Well, there’s only the two of us left inside now, but if you want, I’ll listen to your speech,” he nonchalantly states.

“What, really?”

“Really.” He takes a deep breath, turning your body around so you completely face him. “C’mon, shout at me. Vent. I’m the bartender, I’ll listen. Besides, I’m curious to hear how terrible this guy was that you went so far to set him up.”

Reluctantly listening to the alcohol, you sigh before you start listing off all the reasons for why you’ve never felt okay with your relationship with Jihyuk. Jungkook hums and nods along in all the right pauses, quietly telling you to continue.

“... and not just that, he never came home when I needed him most, ghosted me on dates, forgot our anniversary two years in a row, made me break off friendships, never once paid for his own food, never made me cum even once. Like, what a dick!? And I mean the bad kind, not the good one-”

“Wait wait wait…” Jungkook raises a brow, stopping you. “He- He never… made you cum? Not even once?” He stares at you in bewilderment, shaking his head with a smile of disbelief. “He must’ve really had it good,” he crosses his arms.

“I know, right,” you moan. “What was past me thinking? At this point, I don’t think any man will ever treat me right.”

The man shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe the next one will.”

You feel the urge to laugh at the ridiculous statement, though you hold it back. “You’re kidding, right? I’m never getting a boyfriend ever again,” you huff, shaking your head in disapproval. “Boys, pfft- no, thank you.”

Jungkook only turns his back to you in response, walking to the stools of the bar. He huffs loudly as he sits back down, and you can barely contain your laughter before it bursts out of you, ringing loud in the club. Nudging him by the arm to get his attention, you try your best to turn him around, but when he doesn’t, you move to sit next to him instead, on the bartop. The cool glass makes you initially shiver, but you don’t let it show.

“Did you say something?” You grin as you look at him, at the way he rolls his eyes just a little. “I know I heard you say something.”

“It was nothing,” he scoffs.

“Come on,” you cajole him. “You listened to me earlier and let me rant. I’m not going to laugh or be snarky, I swear.”

A moment passes, while you wait for him to speak up. At this point, the silence of the bar is comfortable, though while you look around, you see that no one else is left inside but the two of you.

“...-y’know?”

You look back at him. “Hm?”

“I think it’s just a little sad to declare that every guy out there is hopeless, because of one jerk,” he repeats, back turned to you as he fiddles with the display case.

You lean back on the bartop. “I guess so,” you say. “But it’s true that it’s disillusioning. I used to have high expectations when the relationship started, you know- but now that I ended it, it’s like- what happened? When did my expectations get so low? I deserve better, you know?”

“But it didn’t seem that way to me then. He seemed so great, so amazing… and now here we are. It scares me a little to think that I might fall for someone, only to find out how much of a jerk they are years down the road.”

“But you’ve got to try again, don’t you?” He softly says. “After all, you said it yourself. You deserve better.”

At that, he finally faces you - before glancing down and turning away just as quickly.

“Eventually, though,” he clarifies, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m not saying you should right now. Just that you shouldn’t give up on love.”

You chuckle softly. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

Quiet fills the room again, a comfortable one. You watch Jungkook clean the last of the bar, wiping the surfaces and glasses.

And as you do, you can’t help but think of something a little too inappropriate.

‘I wonder how it’d feel to ride him.’

Okay, maybe it’s absolutely inappropriate. But it’s not your fault, you tell yourself. Not when Jungkook looks that good. Clad in a neat outfit with a silk black vest and a cute bow tie around his neck, he seemed as though he was a five star meal- and you feel yourself starving.

It really doesn’t help that you haven’t had sex in months, nor have you orgasmed in that time. You need release, one way or another.

Still, it’s bad form to ask him, this kind bartender who literally was just consoling you moments ago from a nasty break up if he wants to fuck, so you try to keep the thought down, but-

You extend your leg, toes barely brushing against his back, watching as he shudders at your touch.

Oh?

You bite your lips to stop yourself from grinning.

“Hey Jungkook… why aren’t you facing me?” “I-I need to clean up the bar,” he huffs, but you hear the slight stammer in his voice, and oh, does it make you feel even bolder.

“Yeah,” you nonchalantly respond, “but you’d think you could at least try to appear like you’re listening to me, especially when we were having such a good chat.”

“You-” He stops, sighing, and you goad him even further, slowly feeling more sure the longer he hesitates.When he turns around- finally- you laugh as you slide your arms to rest on his shoulders, trapping him in front of you.

Furthermore, you cross your legs, a daring smirk on your face as you lean forward and over him close, close enough that as you look down at him, the tip of your noses brush against each other. The slight tremors that you elicit out of him at this close range doesn’t escape your notice, and you feel a rush of giddiness fill you up.

“You know, you were so insistent earlier, when we talked about what I deserved. But considering my past experiences, that feels a little hard to believe… do you think you can convince me otherwise?” You hum, fluttering your eyelashes at him. To his credit, Jungkook stills for only a moment, onyx eyes staring straight back at you. As if to ask permission, as if to wait for your next move. But you only continue to smile, letting him know you want this, asking him if he wants it.

Just as you think he’ll pull away, he only answers you back with a smirk of his own- and then, you can’t help but be entranced by the sudden, daring gleam in his eyes. Just as your arms are perched on his shoulders, you feel fingers gently trace over the edges of your lips.

“Why don’t you find out?”

You wouldn’t, normally. One night stands aren’t your thing. You rarely give your heart away, and even more your body.

But tonight, staring at the man in front of you, the challenge and interest visible in his eyes, you find yourself wanting to do otherwise.

Maybe I will, you think.

And then you dip down to kiss him.

Immediately, you can taste the hint of mint on his lips, the sweet aftertaste of what seems to be banana milk- it’s strange and surprising, not exactly what you’d think a bartender would taste like. It isn’t something you’ve tasted on someone else before either, but as his tongue glides over your lips, silently asking for permission, you find yourself coming to like the flavor. Especially when he kisses you hard enough to make you feel like you’re drowning.

You whimper in pleasure when you suddenly feel him press his bulge against your core for one moment, breaking the kiss only to groan again as he repeats the gesture, grinding your lower bodies together. You can only hold on to his back as tight as you can, feeling the rising tides of lust slowly pull you under its current. A breathless moan leaves you, echoing loudly in the quiet of the empty bar.

“Got something to say, sweetheart?” Jungkook coos, and the words are soon accompanied by a sharp pain on your neck, something that makes the pleasure taste all the more sweeter in comparison. That doesn’t even take into account his hands, which you now notice to be gliding over your stomach, stopping under your breasts as he fondles them and makes you arch back in pleasure for a moment.

“God, just continue doing that,” You whine out and he pauses to laugh, smirk turning into something softer, but just as wild. “Jungkook,” he corrects you, flicking your nipple and you flinch as a sharp wave of pleasure rushes over you. “Don’t call out anybody else’s name but mine, or I’ll punish you.”

‘How can I think about anybody else when you’re making me feel so good right now?’ You almost tell him that, you want to tell him that, but as Jungkook switches his attention from your collarbones to your breasts, tongue lavishing over each mound equally, you find your thoughts slipping away from you.

You don’t even register that you’re being pushed to lie back until the cold glass makes you jerk - and Jungkook firmly keeps you pinned down, another moan leaving you as you feel his fingers probe against your core. You feel him place butterfly kisses down your legs, the touch light yet the effects tremendous on you as you shiver and tremble from each one.

“We barely started and you’re already this wet, huh,” he grins as he slides a finger up your panty, where your slit would be. Juice already coats his finger well, and even though he only teases you against your panties, you find that you’re sensitive, too sensitive not to feel even more turned on by such a small gesture. “Or were you already wet earlier? What a naughty girl.”

“Fffffuck,” you groan, thrusting against his fingers so that they rub against you harder. “Just slip it in already,” you whimper. “Don’t be a fucking tease.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Jungkook purrs as he flicks your nub, making you clench hard at the frustration and anticipation. It infuriates you even more when you feel his fingers leave your skirt, and he leans away a little. You can clearly see the smirk on his face again, amusement swimming with lust in his eyes. “You weren’t being so nice earlier either. Maybe if you were a good girl, I’d listen.”

At that, you pull yourself up, coming closer to him until you bite his shoulder, leaving marks over his neck as well as you can under the raging pleasure. “Or you can listen now, before I make you regret it.” You roll your hips against his, relishing in the quiet groan that leaves him as the delicious friction threatens to drown you both in pleasure.

Honestly, in the face of Jungkook’s ministrations, you find it’s all too easy to let yourself loose, to want more.

You’re surprised when he bends, pushing you back down - and the flash of pain and pleasure on the inner part of your thighs makes you hiss.

“What are you doing?”Jungkook’s answer is light, but the cocky tone is all too evident anyway. “Didn’t you challenge me to make you cum?” Another hickey blooms on your thighs and you whimper as he leaves a trail of them on his way down. “So I’ve made it my mission to make you cum as much as I can tonight.” You feel his nose nudge your panty and you can’t help groaning in anticipation. “Starting with eating you out.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“A-Ah, I’ve never been eaten out before,” you stammer, heart beating fast as you can clearly feel his hair brush against your skin. Lust, excitement, and yet also nerves envelop you then.

For some reason, you can’t help but feel a little self conscious. No one, not even your past boyfriends have done this, after all.

Still, Jungkook only chuckles. “How mean. There I was, making you drinks the whole night, but you won’t even let me have a taste of you now that I’m thirsty.” You can’t see him over the skirt you’re wearing- why, again, are you still wearing it- but you can imagine the chiding smile, the mischief in his eyes. Especially when you feel him blow on you down there, making you shudder.

“Look, you’re even overflowing. Bet you’d taste sweeter and better than any wine here.”

With that, your skirt is taken off, and you gasp as you suddenly taste something on your lips. Yet that isn’t the end of it as for some reason, you suck on his fingers, imagining it to be his cock.

Fuck, you taste good.

Just as that thought reaches you, you think- you want to taste him too.

“Can I, sweetheart?” He asks you again. “I’ll make you feel good.” There’s a chuckle in his words, but before he can say anything more, you tug him up.“Wanna taste you too,” you admit, before blushing. Still, you continue. “So get up here.”

“On the bar top? Kinky,” he grins, but follows your instructions. Moving so that your whole body is laid down on the bartop, you hiss as the cool temperature of the glass makes itself known to your thighs. Not for long though- as the warmth of Jungkook’s body envelops you moments later.

In this position, Jungkook’s crotch faces you, and you find your mouth watering over it. Eager hands cup it for a moment, before you pull down the zipper and admire his member.

God, even his dick is pretty.

Long and veined, what it lacked in girth, the slight curve certainly made up for it. You immediately took it into your mouth, moaning around it when you felt him move your panties to the side and immediately dived in.

On Jungkook’s side - he loves it, every single second of it. He loves how he can make you a mess, how he can wreck you, you bucking up your hips to meet him as you suck and moan around his dick. There is something about you that he couldn’t help but be attracted to. He can’t believe your ex had cheated on you. Just from that moment in which you confronted your ex, he could sense that you were far, far more better than any girl he had ever seen.

Moans and whimpers filled the room as you tremble under Jungkook. Every lap of his tongue, sucking on your nub- hell, just the way he moves his tongue inside your walls is enough to make you push your thighs together.

The pleasure inside you only rises higher and higher, making you continuously grind your hips against his face. True, it’s the first time someone’s eaten you out, but all the same you know you wouldn’t cum just from it if the other person wasn’t good enough.

Jungkook aims to go beyond your expectations it seems. In response, you take him in even deeper, slightly gagging on his dick. One hand reaches out to fondle his balls, rolling them over your hand. Soft, pliant in your hold. You squeeze them slightly, and a sense of accomplishment fills you as you feel him physically stutter, thrusting his dick deeper into you. Jungkook is obviously way more experienced though, or perhaps it’s a sense of competitiveness that’s driving him to make sure you come first, because as you feel something inside you continue to tighten - you pant, recognizing the signs of an impending orgasm. A distant part of you is amazed you could reach an orgasm so quickly - the other is very, very pleased.

“I’m... so close,” you say through uneven breaths, chasing your high. His tongue works at an even faster pace, making you cry out in pleasure. Your walls tighten around his finger, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel it. “Then come for me, sweetheart,” you hear him say.

And that does it.

White warmth, inside and out. Your lower body jerks against him, but Jungkook only rides out your orgasm with you, lapping up the juices that gush from you, the messy sounds of slurping and sucking turning you on even more, if that’s possible. You feel feverish, your oversensitive clit being given a little too much attention. What more, the feeling of your body contrasting against the cold surface of the bartop, shivering a little when his finger traces the curves of your body as you continue to feel the last trembles from your orgasm.When

he finally leans back, Jungkook smiles at the glistening digit and licks his fingers clean. You taste even better than he thought. Truly, you’re an angel. Just as he prepares to get off of you, you give one good suck to his dick, making him jerk. For you, you can feel his hard member twitch in your mouth - and it doesn’t take much to figure out that Jungkook himself is close to release. Still, as he lets out a quiet groan, he moves away. You make to protest, but-

The way he quickly moves on top of you, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt and grinding his member against your core makes you moan, long and loud.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet,” his voice is distinctively lower now, and something heady rushes through you at the realization that you did that. He hisses when you experimentally roll your hips back against him.

Hunger like you’ve never known spreads across you like a wildfire. You want all of what Jungkook has to offer.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He cooes. “You’ll have to be quiet if I put it in, don’t want anyone else hearing how beautiful you sound when I’m fucking you thoroughly.”

Instead of answering, you meet him up in an eager kiss, your hands spreading across his chest - God, you don’t know when he unbuttoned his shirt, but you’re definitely thankful he did. Otherwise, how could you so clearly feel the muscles on his smooth skin?

And then you feel him enter you and fuck.

If what you felt before was something new, then this was definitely out of this world.

Jungkook’s dick fills you up just perfect, the wetness of your vagina and the slick on his dick makes the slide inside so much smoother, and both of you sigh in pleasure. For a moment, you’re both content to lie like that, just basking in the feeling of being connected to each other.

He himself doesn’t know how to explain it, how you differ from others. Everything you do somehow seems to draw him in, and in this moment- he feels like he could just stay like that forever and be content.

You, on the other hand, feel different.

“Jungkook, please, move already,” you eventually plead. Your body arches up as he pulls out for a moment, before beginning to thrust his hips into you at a fast rate, clearly giving you no mercy. Fuck, how in the hells did you ever think any previous sex you had could compare with this?

It’s easy to lose all coherence in this moment, the overwhelming feeling of bliss making you think of nothing but Jungkook’s dick, and the way he drags it against your walls, teasing you before slamming it inside, drawing out the pleasure and then drowning you in it.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounds in the empty room, alongside your mixed groans and whimpers. Jungkook spares you no mercy, and you soon find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, this one even more intense than the last. It doesn’t help that you feel him leave hickeys over your chest, biting and then soothing them afterwards, sliding his tongue over them. Tears prick your eyes as the pain and the pleasure mix together, making each feeling all the more intense to you.

Fuck, where had he been all your life? You’ve never felt so good in sex- not like this, not with your previous encounters. But right here and right now, you swear that if there’s a god, then Jungkook must have been his favorite, and you were blessed to have been touched by him.

“J-Jungkook, I-I’m coming again-!” Rather than slow down, it seems your words just urge him to fuck you harder, faster, making you sob as another wave of pleasure threatens to drown you under.

“Then come all you want,” he growls, dragging you into a fierce kiss, wanting to taste you- but also to silence you.

“A-Ah!” You scream out, panting, as you ride another wave of orgasm-

The harsh smack on your bottom makes you jerk off the table with a sob. Jungkook hisses as he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty- but not for too long, as you’re turned over, and he shoves his cock back inside your hole. You moan, long and loud in pleasure, before you feel another smack on your bottom.

“What part of ‘keep quiet’ didn’t you understand?” He reprimands you sternly, each word accentuated by a hit on your bottom that makes you jerk, each time. “I told you to be quiet, or we’d both get in trouble. There’s still the club’s bodyguard standing outside. If he heard us, how much do you want to bet he’d come in and see your pretty little body all laid out under me, huh?”

“I-” You try to explain, but end up heaving deep breaths instead as he thrusts his hips particularly hard, leaving you a whimpering mess as you drop your head onto the table again, the ache at the back of our head barely being addressed by your numb mind.

“You what?” He growls, hands snaking forward to pull your head back with your hair- making you groan as he lowers himself right next to your ear. “You what, Y/N? Got nothing to say right now?”

He tsks. “Or maybe him seeing you is what you want. How many hours has it been since we just met, and how you’re gladly taking up my cock in your cunt right now? I guess you’re nothing but a slut.”

“I-I,” You try again, but all that remains in your head is him calling you a slut. The humiliation it draws from you, reddening your cheeks, somehow only serves to make you feel even more aroused. You can’t think of anything else, but how to just push yourself back into Jungkook’s dick because clearly, he is drawing it out and depriving you of what you need!

“What are you, Y/N?” his voice is hoarse as he asks, his dark hair a mess that covers his beautiful face. “...Wanting others to see you looking so pretty for me,” the knot in your stomach tightens as you try to think of a reply, yet nothing comes. Fuck fuck fuck.

“I don’t, I-” you stop. You can’t, you just can’t, if you don’t get what you want right now, you might as well die.

“Disappointing,” he clicks his tongue dismissively, and you feel your eyes burn out of desperation. “And here I thought you’d be good for me?”

“I’m sssssorrryyyy!” You whine out when he won’t let you off, the tears falling down your face now. “I’m a slut! A fucking slut! Your slut,” you cry out. “P-Please, put it back innn!”

“Mm, I still don’t know,” he drawls. “I already warned you to be good earlier, but you just kept on pushing me. And now you clearly disobeyed me. Only good girls, not sluts, get rewards, don’t you think?”

“I’m s-sorry,” you repeat, whimpering. “Please, I can be good, so please-!”

Hands rub your bottom, a slight sting reminding you that he’d already hit you there earlier. Yet somehow all it did was make you even more sensitive to not just the pain, but also heightening the pleasure you felt.

“If you take your punishment obediently, I might let you off,” he suddenly offers. Jungkook’s voice has become sweet again, soft and sticky and coaxing. Not that you need it though, considering he has you in his palms either way.

Not to mention that the thought of the punishment at hand makes your core throb.

You bite your lips, hoping that he doesn’t see how flushed you are. You don’t doubt that you’re dripping down so much on the glass bartop that at this point, that there must be a puddle right below your cunt. But at the thought of what he’s about to do, you feel yourself secreting even more. “Oh?” He chuckles, dragging a finger along your clit. At this point your labia are puffed up, swollen with Jungkook’s relentless attacks on it, but still it doesn’t hide how aroused you are at this moment. All it is is overly sensitive, and still asking for more.

“Seems to me that you like that, huh? I guess I was right. Being good doesn’t suit you at all, slut,” he tsks. “You just wanted to get punished.”

“I-I can take it,” you meekly tell him, shaking your ass a little. At the sight, Jungkook smirks wickedly. “Alright then. I want you to count each strike, sweetheart. And if you lose count, we’ll be starting all over again. … Do you understand that?”

Near the end, you hear Jungkook’s tone soften, and it’s all too easy to hear the way out he’s offering you. You want it, though. “H-How many?”

He pauses, before continuing. “How many do you think you deserve?”

You swallow loudly. “I… I don’t know.” You bite your lips. “I’ve, uh- I’ve never been spanked like this before.”

You feel embarrassment course through your veins for a moment as Jungkook freezes, and you wonder if you should’ve just said a random number-

But then the loud smack of a hand against your ass rings out loud in the room, and you jerk wildly against the bartop, a silent scream in your throat.“Until I say stop, then. That was one already,” Jungkook purrs.

You whimper, but nod along as he starts.

Smack!

“Two!”

Smack!

“T-Three!”!

Smack!

“F-Four,” you whimper.

At each hit of his hand against your ass, you can’t help moaning, louder with each one. Jungkook’s hands are swift, and absolute- no mercy left for you, only his feather-light gentle caresses after each hit making you weep.

At the eight count, you’re absolutely gone, panting, a mess of tears and pain and pleasure and overall just too fucking sensitive. But the sheer amount of thrill and joy that settles in you as Jungkook finally stops is just short of euphoria, and you look up at him, your eyes pleading for his praise and reassurance.

Sure enough, Jungkook doesn’t disappoint.

He slides you off the counter and into his arms, your legs crossed around his, into a long, sweet kiss, swallowing up the sounds that leave your lips, the little whimpers and groans.

“You took your punishment so well,” he compliments you as he pulls back, making you preen. “I suppose you deserve a reward then, don’t you?”

“P-Please,” you plead, rutting your core against his erect cock. It slides against your core all too easily, making you groan. Still, you don’t dare put it inside, waiting for Jungkook’s permission first.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he grins, and-

Jungkook’s kiss swallows up the scream that leaves you as he thrusts back into your hole in one smooth movement, bringing you back into that land of sheer pleasure and lust.

In this position, held up in the air only by his arms, you keenly feel every movement of his cock inside you as he bounces you, forcing you to go up and down repeatedly. You’re almost delirious, your hands no doubt leaving scratch marks on his body as you hold him as tight as you can, feeling everything just too much.

It doesn’t take more than a minute or two to bring you to your third orgasm. It seems that Jungkook himself senses that as well, because the moment you feel it coming, he speeds up his thrusts again, making you scream.

“J-Jungkook!!” You wail out his name as one final jerk of his hips brings you crashing down, bliss enveloping you fully as you almost white out, spasming and losing control of your body for a moment.

When you come to, a second later, you feel him desperately moving in you, but the stuttered way he does so tells you all you need to know.

“W-Where should I cum?” He grits the words out his teeth, and you hiss in pleasure, in over-sensitivity and pain as his member remains inside of you even after you’ve orgasmed for the third time. You’re determined to get him to come as well though, something warm blazing in your chest. You don’t owe favors, and you won’t anymore, so maybe that’s the reason why.

For whatever reason it truly is, though, you tell him with a steady voice. “Just come inside me,” you give him permission. Jungkook groans at that, looking straight at you, as if to ask, are you sure?

You nod, drawing him into a sweet kiss. There’s nothing but elation inside you at this moment.

When you squeeze his member inside your cunt, you moan as you feel him paint your walls white, something hot and warm and sticky filling up your cunt. If your nails didn’t leave marks before, well, they had to by now.

It’s only when you feel it drip out of you that you finally pull back from the kiss.The both of you are panting, visibly exhausted, though you’re pretty sure Jungkook can still run a lap around the club, while you’re all ready to collapse on the floor. Fuck, where does he get all that stamina from?

“I work out at the gym.” The amusement visible in his eyes as he answers you tells you that you probably spoke out loud. Sheesh.

“Yeah, you were.” Jungkook’s chuckle brings your attention back to him, and you blush for the first time since a while now, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder. Honestly, if you tried to move right now, you don’t doubt you’d just lay down on the floor, so you opt to remain in his hold.

That decision definitely wasn’t influenced by how secure you felt in his arms, or how good he smelt, even after you both just had sex.

His chuckles turn into laughter- and you’re only dimly aware of it as he sets you down on a nearby sofa, grabbing a washcloth nearby to start wiping you off.

When you look down at him again- it’s as if he’s seamlessly switched back to the adorable guy you met earlier. Huge, doe eyes and bunny smile on display as he grins happily.

It’s then that you hear the door to the bar being clicked open, and you’re thrown back into reality.

“If you’re done fucking on top of the bar, I think it’d be good if we officially wrap things up around here,” you see a blond man barge through, wearing a poker face despite the words that make even more heat rise up to your cheeks. The connotations of the sentence… you’ll ignore that.

“And I think that included your dick, but okay,” he eyes Jungkook warily. He looks at you for a brief moment, before clicking on his tongue as he shakes his head.

“Anyway, out of this place, both of you, before Seokjin-hyung threatens to kill me again for not being a good enough caretaker.”

“And what exactly were you doing while we were… in here, Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook raises a brow out of suspicion.

“Sleeping. Now hurry up.”

Peals of laughter escape Jungkook, even as both your cheeks redden at being caught.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook reassures him, before turning back to you. “Let me just finish up cleaning that mess, and we’ll get you home for real,” he tells you softly. Placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he lays you down to rest.

“Take a quick nap in the meantime, okay?”

Giggling under the blanket of the dark night, you run under the bright stars as the stars reign the heavens above your heads. With Jungkook hand in hand, you experience freedom like you’ve never felt before.

The gentle breeze of the cold wind at 2 am, in perfect contract to the feel of his warm hand enveloping yours is the sweetest sensation, one of accepting, letting go and moving forward.

You swear you’ve never laughed like you do when you dash through the abandoned streets of neighborhoods too hazy for you to remember in detail. His laugh rings in your ears like the song of an angel, a far cry from your own booming one that he still loves all the same. It’s beautiful, quiet, made for you two alone.

Reaching your apartment, Jungkook helps you into your adorable dragon onesie before tucking you into bed, the softest smile on his face. It hurts a little to leave you so quick, he wants to stay, he wants to spend the night beside you, but for tonight… maybe all that you have done so far is enough.

Maybe once morning arrives, the sunrise announces his fall. Maybe you won’t even remember him.

Thinking so, his trembling hand reaches out to cup your cheek.

Then he stops.

Goodnight, Y/N.

Morning comes. You groggily roll out of bed, heading straight for the kitchen to get yourself a cup of water. Your head is in shambles, too filled to think of anything more, too empty to think of anything less than the sticky note your eyes land on.

It’s stuck to the microwave that’s sitting on the counter, a stupidly lovable green note. Taking careful steps towards it, you peel it off to read what’s written, eyes widening a little.

‘here’s my number! call if you want :D

I also left some hangovers in here.

make sure to eat them and stay safe~

hope to hear from you. xx JK.’

Your heart flutters in excitement and love for the note as you pull it close, hugging it as much as one could a sticky note. You smile softly, hand tracing the curves of the writing, the action all too sweet and unexpected. Running to get your phone that must be somewhere around here, you start to jump around in the search for it out of nervous elation.

There’s so much more you want to do with Jungkook, but - you just can’t wait to hear his gorgeous laugh again.

#bangtanhq #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #jungkook angst #bts x you #jungkook x you #fic: la luxure

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mosswillow · 4 years

Text

Your room (Dark!Peter Parker x Reader)

Word count 3.3k

!!!!! This is dark! And explicit 18+ only !!!!!

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, oral (female receiving), spankings, punishment, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, unprotected sex, smut, vaginal intercourse.

Summery: Your life is bland and boring but not for long. What happens when you catch the eye of a certain super hero?

Your room has always reflected you as a person. In highschool you haphazardly filled the walls with quotes and posters. Your room was messy in the typical way teenagers rooms tend to be, but also like a typical teenager was filled with feeling and hope. In college you filled your space with pictures of you and your friends taken on a polaroid camera. Everywhere you looked had your life staring back at you. Now as an adult the pictures from college are tucked away in a box. Your room is simple and boring. Most people think of you as minimalist but you don’t do it to be trendy, you just have no passion. You’ve spent the years after graduating college working a job you hate in a lab, running the same tests over and over again. You’ve always wanted to be a scientist, working on something new and exciting. You’ve applied everywhere but you rarely even get an interview. Your dreams, unfortunately, will never happen for you. Sometimes you wish for someone to swoop in and take you for your bland life but you know that will never happen. Watching your friends get dream jobs and buy homes while you waste away has crushed your spirit. You’re tired.

---

“Hey Y/N, we’re going out tonight.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, you never come with us.”

“Ok sure.”

Your coworker is right that you never go out anymore and so several hours later you walk into a bar, grabbing a drink and finding your coworkers. The bar is bustling with activity and you lose track of time. You usually curl up in bed with a book on a friday night but you’re glad you came. You used to go out all the time in college and miss being social. Going out is good for your mental health and you decide to make more of a point to spend time with people.

You say goodbye to your still partying co-workers and head home a little past midnight. You start your walk and cut through an alleyway, wanting to get home before you vomit from the alcohol.

“Hey sweetheart. What are you doing all alone out here?”

A large man steps out of the shadows and walks toward you. You ignore him, keeping your eyes focused ahead and pick up the pace.

“Oi, I’m talkin’ to you,” He lunges forward and grabs your arm.

“Let me go.” You try to walk away but he holds onto you still, pushing you against the wall and landing a bruising kiss on your lips. His breath smells rancid and you feel bile rise in your throat. You cry out for help and the man is suddenly pulled away from you. You watch with disbelief as Spider man throws the stranger against the opposing wall.

“She said to go away buddy.”

The man slowly stands up and runs away. Spider Man shoots a web at the running stranger and he falls over, immobilized.

“You ok?” Spider Man turns to you, cocking his head.

“Yes, thank you Spider Man.”

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow”

You watch spider man pick up the stranger like he’s nothing and swing away. You walk the rest of the way home and lie in bed, unable to fall asleep. The next morning there’s a tap on your window and you look out to see Spider Man on your fire escape. You briefly wonder how he knows where you live but quickly brush off the thought and open your window.

“You sure you’re ok?” He steps towards you, looking you over.

“Just a little shaken up.”

He walks to your kitchen, filling a glass of water and handing it to you.

“This is too much, really I’m fine. You already saved me.”

“Drink the water,” He commands.

You sigh and drink it.

“That’s a good girl. Now get back to bed.”

You set the glass down and stare at the stranger you let in your home. Alarm bells start ringing.

“I’d like you to leave.”

“I’ll leave once I know you’re doing as you're told.”

Your heart beats rapidly and you take a step back.

“I appreciate that you saved me and came to make sure that I’m fine but I’m now asking you to please go.”

Spider man crosses his arms.

“I’ll call the cops” you say.

“And say what?”

“That there’s an intruder.”

Spider man sighs and walks to your window, standing at it.

“Get in bed and I’ll go.”

You walk to your bed and get under the covers.

“Good girl. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

As soon as he’s through the window you jump out of bed and lock every door and window, double checking your work. You get back in bed and let out a sigh of relief, finally able to sleep.

You wake up to tapping on your window. Spiderman is back. You make your way to the window but don’t open it.

“Let me in.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you in here.”

Spider Man shakes his head and leaves without a word.

The next few weeks are filled with anxiety. You see flashes of red in your peripheral vision everywhere you go. Spider man is stalking you. You consider telling police but don’t think they’ll believe you. It sounds crazy, even to you. If it weren't for the bruises from the assault in the alleyway you would think you had imagined the whole thing. You stop leaving your apartment unless necessary and never go out after dark.

You get a voicemail one day.

“HI, this is Rebecca Johnson from Stark Industries. We’re looking for someone to fill a position in one of our labs. You had submitted an application previously and we wanted to reach out and see if you’d like to interview for the position. Please call back at your earliest convenience.

You squeal in delight, doing a celebratory fist pump. Stark industries is a dream job. You immediately hit redial and set up the interview. This would change everything. Just one year working at Stark would open up endless possibilities for you and that’s if you ever want to leave. You could afford a nicer apartment with more security. Maybe you will finally feel safe. You remind yourself that it’s just an interview and you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself.

---

You look up at the tower and take a deep breath. It’s intimidating, going for an interview at Stark tower. It’s been so long since you’ve interviewed anywhere let alone somewhere so big. You tug at your blouse, second guessing your outfit, maybe you should have worn something different. It’s too late to go back home and change. You walk in, mustering up all the courage you can and talk to the woman at the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here for an interview. Y/N Y/L/N”

“Oh yes, they’re expecting you. Here’s a temporary badge. Go to the 80th floor and take a seat.”

You take the badge and follow the instructions. You’re surprised to find yourself in what looks like private quarters. There’s a small couch near the elevator and you sit and wait.

Tony Stark himself appears in front of you and your mouth flies open. You stand quickly and hold your hand out.

“Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tony looks you up and down, clicking his tongue.

“Likewise, follow.”

You half walk, half run behind him, getting in the elevator and taking it down a floor. You arrive at a state of the art lab and workshop and Tony leads you to a desk.

“The whole workshop will be open to you. This is your desk.”

He starts walking again and you keep following him back to the elevator and to another floor.

“Here’s where you’ll live. I’ll leave you with the contract and you can call my assistant if you have any questions.”

He hands you a tablet and walks out.

You look around the room dumbfounded. You thought you were just here for an interview. You guess this means you got the job. You swipe through the contract and your eyes widen at your salary. There are a few things that make you uncomfortable though. You’re required to live on site and there’s a curfew. You have to sign a NDA about anything you see in the tower. You also can’t decide to quit without permission, which you’re not sure is even legal. You call the number to Tony’s assistant.

“This is Rebecca.”

“Hi, this is Y/N. I’m looking through this contract and it says I have to live on site and there’s a curfew?”

“Yes. That is non negotiable. Living on site will give you access to the workshop 24/7. There will be times when you will work through the night. The curfew is for security as the tower is locked down every night.”

You would rather have your own place where you can come and go as you please but you’re willing to live here if you have to and the reason for a curfew makes sense. The tower has top of the line security, which is something that’s really important to you. You don’t usually go out late anyway and if you do decide to be out late you can crash at a friends house or get a hotel room.

“And the avengers? Will I have to work closely with them?”

“You might meet them or see them at some point but most likely not.”

“I know this sounds weird but I don’t want Spider man to know I’m working here.”

“Mums the word.”

“What exactly will the job entail? I see there’s a NDA.”

“You’ll be an assistant in Tony Stark's personal workshop and will work closely with him. He appreciates privacy.”

“I see, and the part where I’m not allowed to quit?”

“He just wants to make sure you’re serious. Tony picks his assistants personally and requires loyalty.”

“Ok, thank you.”

You hang up and sign the screen. When you open the door there's a man standing outside. He’s not a tall man, standing a few inches taller than you. However, he is muscular and something about him commands attention. You feel an immediate pull towards him.

“Oh, hi I’m Peter Parker.” He holds out his hand.

“I’m Y/N”

“I also work with Tony and live right next to you. I’ll be your direct boss.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Parker.”

“Peter is fine. I won’t keep you any longer, I just wanted to introduce myself.”

You immediately get to work rearranging your life. By the end of the weekend you’re completely moved into your new place and on monday you start your first day on the job. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, full of state of the art technology and free reign to do whatever you want. You walk into work every day with a smile.

You work alone most of the time, Tony and Peter working awkward, sporadic hours but you enjoy it when you do get to work with them. Tony is funny and brilliant, you learn more from him than from any college class. Peter is smart and sweet. He helps you with your work and makes sure you’re always taken care of, sending you back to your room if you’ve been working too long or making you take breaks to eat. You find yourself starting to develop feelings for Peter and your heart swells when he asks you on a date. Life is good and only getting better.

You meet Peter outside of your door and he takes your hand. The two of you walk to a little italian restaurant and Peter takes your menu, ordering your food for you. It’s very forward for a first date but you like the confidence. After dinner he walks you back to your door and kisses you. You see something in his eyes when he pulls away, possessive and dark. It makes you feel uncomfortable but also excited. Nobody has ever looked at you like that.

Over the next few weeks Peter becomes more and more comfortable around you, becoming more physical. It’s small things, like pushing your hair back when talking or touching you gently as he walks past. He asks you out again, this time wanting to cook you dinner and you decline, suggesting a coffee date instead. You don’t feel comfortable enough with him to be alone in his room. He clenches his jaw when you tell him, obviously upset you won’t come over but agrees.

A few days later you decide to go out with some old friends and crash on one of their couches. When you get home the next day Peter is standing outside your door.

“You missed curfew.”

“I know, I went out with friends and crashed on one of their couches.”

Peter clenches his jaw.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“It shouldn't matter if I want to stay the night somewhere else.”

“Well it does.”

You roll your eyes and unlock your door quickly, locking it behind you. The two of you have only been on one date. His behavior is a red flag and you decide to take things slowly.

The next day you decide to go out for coffee, pulling on a simple tee shirt dress and some flip flops. The elevator won’t let you down.

“Your privileges have been revoked.” Peter says from behind you.

You jump. “Why?”

“You know why.”

He stalks toward you, pushing you up against the elevator.

“I don’t feel comfortable with this Peter. You need to back away from me now.”

Peter takes a step back.

“I’m sorry but right now I don’t want any sort of relationship outside of work.”

“That’s not going to work for me.”

Something in Peter's eyes terrifies you. You need to get out of here. You try the elevator again but it still won’t open.

“I quit.” you yell at the elevator, feeling more danger every second you’re stuck in the hallway with Peter.

“You can’t quit baby.”

“There’s no way it’s legal to force me to keep working even if it’s in the contract.”

“There’s nowhere to go. You’re not getting out of this building and even if you did you’d have to find a lawyer to take your case.”

“You can’t do this, I'll tell Tony.”

“Who do you think suggested this in the first place? Most of the Avengers have gotten their partners this way. I was waiting for the right person and I knew you were them the moment I saw you.”

“Why would Tony help you trap me here? You’re just a lab assistant.”

“Oh no honey, I’m much more than that.”

He steps toward you, caging you in.

“You think it’s a coincidence I saved you in that alleyway?”

“Spider man?”

Peter gives a grin. He leans in and smells your hair.

“No.”

“I’m sorry it’s happening this way, I wanted to break you down slower. You’ll have a really good life, we’ll live together and work together. You’ll have everything you could need or want.”

“I want to leave.”

“You’ll change your mind, you just need a little motivation.”

Peter pulls you to his room and opens the door, pushing you into his apartment. You try to run but he easily catches you, picking you up and throwing you on his bed.

“Why are you doing this? Why me?” you scrabble to the far side of the bed.

“You’re mine.”

Peter's phone rings and he picks it up.

“Hey, yes I did... I know It wasn’t the plan, I had to improvise… Ok, see you in a few weeks.”

He hangs up and gets on top of you. you spit in his face.

“I’m not yours freak. Let me go.”

“You won’t be allowed to act like that moving forward. Now lie still.”

“Get off of me.”

Peter gets off briefly, flipping you over his lap and pulling up your skirt. He lands a smack on your bottom.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do this. You’ve been so bad baby.

“Not letting me in your apartment.”

Smack.

“Telling Rebecca you didn’t want me to you started working here.”

Smack

“Staying out all night.”

Smack.

“Shutting the door in my face.”

Smack.

“I liked you Peter, If you had just acted like a normal person we could have continued a relationship.” You say through tears.

“I don’t want a relationship, I want to own you.”

He lands another blow on your bottom and grabs your underwear, pulling them down and off of you. You try to wiggle away but he’s so strong and easily holds you down with one arm. He moves his hand between your legs and towards your sex, pushing a finger in and out.

“You’re wet for me.” He says smugly.

You close your eyes and turn your head away. You’ve stopped resisting and he lets go.

“There you go.”

He kisses your neck and cheek then grabs your chin moving your face and kissing you gently, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He pulls back and you hear him unbuttons his pants, pulling them down. You open your eyes and move away from him, pushing your back against the headboard. You watch as he holds his erection, slowly moving his hand up and down. He moves towards you and grabs your ankle, pulling you down the bed and positioning himself in between your legs. He holds onto your hips and kisses your inner thigh, moving toward your mound until his mouth is on your clit, kissing and licking. You arch your back and throw your head back, fighting against the rising orgasm. Right before you come he pulls back, smiling up at your dazed face. He rises up and slowly pushes his dick into you until you’re full. You whimper as he brings his hand down to your clit, stimulating it.

“That’s right baby,I know what you like.”

You can’t think about anything else anymore, only the orgasm that threatens to take over.

“Come Baby”

You reach out, grabbing his arms as you come. He grabs your shoulders and thrusts deep, filling you with cum before collapsing next to you, pulling you into the crook of his arm.

“Can I go back to my room now?” you ask.

“You won’t be leaving this room until I can trust you.”

“I won’t say anything. You won. You got what you wanted so just let me go.”

“You still don’t get it Y/N. You’re mine now. I know this is a hard adjustment but everything will be fine as long as you follow what I say.”

“And if I don’t obey you?”

“You’ll be punished.”

“Fuck you.”

Peter sits up next to you, grabbing his pants off the floor and pulling his belt out of the loops.

“I guess your first lesson starts now.”

---

You look around the room you live in. It’s no longer the empty minimalist space it was before you met Peter. Now it’s filled with him. Everywhere you look there are reminders of him. The shower has his body wash and razor. There are pictures of him hanging on the walls. Everything you own has been bought for you by Peter. He dictates what you’re allowed to wear, where you’re allowed to go, who can talk to. It’s all him. Every part of your life revolves around Peter to the point where you don’t know what you would do without him. You wake up to him, go to sleep to him, think about him constantly. You’re even sometimes woken up in the middle of the night to him touching you, wanting you. At some point you stop pretending you don’t want him back. You hate it but it’s true.

Your room has always been a reflection of you as a person.

#dark!peter parker x reader #dark!fic #dark!peter parker #dark peter #dark peter parker #smut

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joaquinwhorres · 3 years

Text

Treacherous Waters (Leonard McCoy x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› After finals at Starfleet Academy all of the cadets flock to local bars in search of a good time. Which is exactly where you meet Leonard McCoy. And you are more than willing to show him a good time with the understanding that come Saturday morning he'll be gone, and you'll never see him again. Which is exactly what happens...until five years later your starship has a massive failure and the only ship around to save you is the Enterprise.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,072

WARNINGS ››››› Drinking and mentions of sexy times.

A/N ››››› Sooooo originally this was just supposed to be a “dancing in a bar with Leonard McCoy” fic but then I got an idea and well, it’s this.

Prefer OC’s? Read it on AO3.

Finals Week at Starfleet Academy was a glorious occasion.

Or perhaps, more accurately, the Friday evening after Finals Week at Starfleet Academy was a glorious occasion. Because the Friday night of Finals Week was when the beautiful, young, pent up cadets flooded the local bars in desperate search for some unbridled fun.

Which Y/N was more than happy to provide

"Kirk's here," Kiesh hissed, her fingers digging into Y/N's arm in her excitement. Y/N flinched, and Kiesh released her quickly, but was too distracted to mutter an apology, her gaze fixated on the near mythical figure of San Francisco nightlife.

The tales that followed Jim Kirk were outlandish and obscene and wholly captivating.

There was the story of his birth aboard the USS Kelvin minutes before his father saved the lives of everyone who'd been aboard the ship.

There was the story of how he'd earned his spot in the Academy by taking on three security Lieutenants in a fist fight and walking away with no more than a bloody nose.

And of course there were the stories of his romantic conquests. Although romantic was probably not the right word for it. Carnal, sensual, lustful, and erotic all seemed a bit more descriptive of what transpired between Jim Kirk and the girls of San Francisco.

And like any mythical figure, these tales were enough to warn off a good number of girls from falling into his sheets...while prompting others to search for him to either worship or conquer themselves.

Kiesh fell firmly in the later category. She was no Kirk acolyte, but he had become a point of fixation for her because he was what no other man had been to her--unattainable.

Y/N scanned the crowd for the golden haired casanova, but the bar was too packed. It was an ocean of voices and species and color, all flowing to the electric undercurrent that ran throughout the bar. Y/N's eyes caught on the blood red uniforms of cadets too eager to indulge their youth to waste any time by going home and changing clothes.

Two palms pressed into either side of Y/N's face as her roommate turned her attention away from the cadets, past groups of people wearing the colorful and patterned designs native to their home planet, and to the end of the neon purple bar. There, just visible between the bodies of two friends having a chugging contest, was Jim Kirk with his head thrown back laughing.

"He's gorgeous," Y/N murmured. She'd figured he had to be, but it was one thing to hear about Adonis and another thing completely to see him in person. Kiesh's hands fell from Y/N's head, allowing the other girl to turn back to her. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"I might not make it to breakfast." A coy smile curled Kiesh's lips up as she started off through the crowd, disappearing amongst the crowd.

Y/N followed her progress, watching the other girl choose a space at the bar directly in Kirk's line of sight, sliding into the chair and tossing her long purple hair over one shoulder to reveal the expanse of skin from her neck to her chest, and then below the crop top.

And then she waited.

Watching Kiesh work was a sight to behold. Each trap was delicately set, carefully tailored to the man she'd picked on that given night. She planned each movement--the way she walked, the angle of her body against the bar, the look she painted on her face--to snag men like a siren, luring them into her dangerous waters.

As much as she wanted to see this play out, Y/N had other more important things to accomplish. Like finding her own catch for the night. And she wasn't going to do that by standing in one spot all night.

If Kiesh was a siren, then Y/N was a shark, moving constantly throughout the room in search of the perfect prey. She weaved in and out of small groups, eyes scanning the members therein. There were groups of friends laughing together, cadets challenging each other to drinking games, girls who like her and Kiesh came with one purpose in mind, and others who came to have a good time by themselves, cadets be damned.

But it wasn't until her fourth slow, methodical lap that she saw him. Or rather, she saw Kirk slap him on the back with a large grin before making his way over to where Kiesh leaned on her elbows. More than the broadness of his shoulders, the tussle of dark hair, and the deep red color of his uniform, it was the scowl he was shooting at Kirk's back that caught her attention and drew her across the bar to him as if smelling blood in the water.

"You look like a man who doesn't dance," Y/N said, folding her arms on the back of what was once Kirk's chair. It took him almost three seconds to realize that she was talking to him, and when he did, he lifted his eyebrows--the look an interesting combination of amusement and apprehension.

"Well, that's a first," he remarked. There was just a trace of an accent under his words that Y/N couldn't quite place.

"I highly doubt I'm the first person to notice," Y/N said, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Unless of course I'm wrong, and you're constantly barraged with requests to hit the dance floor."

He exhaled a laugh, the sound sailing past his lips, and into the glass he lifted up to his mouth. "You're not wrong," he said, taking a sip of his liquor and then placing it back down on the bar in front of him.

"Didn't think so. I rarely am."

He gave her a cautious look out of the corner of his eye as if still unsure where this conversation was going and why she was talking to him. As if people chatted up strangers in bars just to pass the time.

"So, since you don't dance, that begs the obvious question…what's a man like you doing in a place like this?"

He cracked a smile then, slowly tilting his head to look at her, really look at her, for the first time. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"Only if you subscribe to archaic 20th century gender norms," Y/N shrugged, smiling back at him. "Besides," she leaned closer, tipping her head towards his conspiratorially, and he shifted closer as well. "I don't think it's much of a mystery for me. I mean, look at our clothes."

His eyes wandered down to her deep V halter before seeming to realize he was still in his reds. "Fair point," he conceded, pulling back a little to take another sip of his drink.

"So?"

"A friend dragged me out," he admitted, eyes sliding back over to her. She raised both of her eyebrows as if she was surprised and didn't see Kirk abandoning him just five minutes ago.

"And left you to fend for yourself in a dive like this?" She shook her head as if scandalized by the idea. "You need better friends."

The cadet snorted and nodded his head. "You've got that right."

"Well, you're very lucky I found you before another girl did," Y/N said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"That so?"

She nodded. "They may try to take advantage of you in such a defenseless state. All alone by the bar nursing a...what is that, whiskey?"

"Bourbon, actually." His eyes sparkled with an intoxicating warmth similar to the liquor he was drinking.

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly. "Same thing."

"Only technically."

"Technicalities are everything," she grinned. "Anyway, I'm willing to offer my protective services as a long time San Francisco resident to navigate these treacherous waters."

"You're from here?" he asked, genuine curiosity overtaking his features for the first time in their conversation. Y/N's smile turned a bit strained, but she nodded.

"Not quite. But I've been here for fifteen years. Just haven't figured out how to drop the accent," she shrugged.

"So are you from England then?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Next round's on me if you can guess where."

"Lon…" he started, and a grin grew across Y/N's face before he switched course. "Birmingham?"

She shook her head. "London."

"You tricked me," he accused lightly, his brow furrowing slightly but into more of mock offense and surprise at her cunning than anything else.

"You're highly suggestible," she shook her head, fighting to keep a smile down. "Which brings me back to the fact that you absolutely cannot remain alone in this bar tonight. It's far too dangerous for you."

"Guess I'll have to take you up on that offer then, darlin'." His smile was more subtle--apparently the fight to keep it off his face was going better for him.

"Y/N," she corrected, lifting her hand to offer it to him.

The man took it, his fingers surprisingly soft for a cadet. "Leonard," he answered.

Y/N let her hand linger in his, not pulling back until his grip loosened and his fingers trailed against hers to go back around his glass. She leaned her elbow on the back of the chair, placing her chin on top of her hand. "So Leonard," she asked. "Are you going to buy me a drink or am I working for free?"

He smirked, lifting a hand to call the bartender over as Y/N slid into the seat next to him, leaning her arms against the smooth chrome bar. The Tellarite bartender made his way over, and Leonard looked at Y/N.

"Well are you going to order or sit there staring at each other?" the bartender snapped. Leonard shot him a dirty look, and Y/N snorted.

"I'll have a Samarian Sunset on his tab," she ordered, pointing a finger at Leonard, and the man grunted. Leonard still looked rather displeased with the exchange but ordered himself another bourbon. The bartender walked away grumbling, and even Leonard looked rather grumpy.

"You know that's just his way of greeting right?" Y/N asked, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Tellarites consider it polite to attempt to start an argument when meeting someone. If he wasn't mildly insulting I would have been majorly insulted."

"And I thought you were kidding about being a guide."

"I would never," Y/N said with mock indignation, placing a hand over her heart. "Leonard, I take my promise to you very seriously. I will be at your side all night."

"All night?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

"All night," Y/N repeated with a nod, keeping her eyes locked on Leonard. He met her gaze with an intensity that made her stomach twist with delight. And of course it was right then that bartender reappeared.

He placed a martini glass full of clear liquid in front of Y/N, and a rocks glass with amber liquor in front of Leonard before making a derisive noise in his throat and walking away. Leonard didn't seem to mind as much this time.

"Cheers," Y/N said, reaching forward with her glass, and Leonard clinked his against hers, lifting it to his lips. She watched intently as she swirled her own drink so that a luminescent gold wisp spiraled out, turning the clear liquor the color of a burning sun. He pulled the glass from his lips, and she returned her attention to her own drink, taking a slow sip before placing it back down on the bar.

"So, Leonard," Y/N let the name roll off her tongue teasingly. "Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What are you studying?"

"I'm a medical student," he said, setting his own glass down. "And I'm from Georgia."

"Ooh, a doctor and a southern gentleman," Y/N teased, shimmying her shoulders. "My mother would be so proud of me."

"Who said I'm a gentleman?" he asked with raised eyebrows, leaning closer to her. Y/N's mouth fell open slightly before she caught herself, stopping her body from melting completely right there in the seat.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Leonard," she quipped, taking a sip of her drink.

"If you didn't want a good time then why did you come over here?" he asked, and Y/N grinned at him.

"Because you look like a man who doesn't dance."

"Well darlin," Leonard started, his eyes sparkling with the slightest bit of mischief and a look on his face that was enough to make something delicious twist in the pit of Y/N's stomach. "The night's still young."

The night grew in both the amount of time passed and the amount of drinks finished. It was hard to state exactly how much of either had slipped away from the two of them as their glasses had been cleared a few times, but the world was just a bit lighter and hazier at the edges than was usual and the crowd slightly thinner than it had been when Y/N entered.

"Well, darlin'," Leonard's accent had grown heavier with the liquor, words dripping like molasses from his lips. "I should be gettin' back before curfew."

Y/N exhaled, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Leonard," she said slowly, dragging out the word. Her own accent adding a richness to her words that had been precise and sharp earlier in the evening. "I thought I made it quite clear that I wasn't leaving your side all night, so you can't go running off to the dorms on me now."

"Need me to walk you home?" he asked, pausing from putting on his coat to settle the tab.

"Such a southern gentleman," the words rolled like waves from her, her voice rising and falling as he lifted an eyebrow at the screen he was signing. "Yes, I require an accompaniment home," she mocked. "And then I need you to pick a side you want me on for the next part of our night: top or bottom."

Leonard's eyes darkened, pupils blown wide before grabbing her hand and leaving the bar behind.

The cab ride to her apartment was...restrained. The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder in the backseat, eyes focused ahead through the windshield. Even as Y/N's hand drifted from her own lap into his, venturing up his thigh, both of them remained focused on the passing San Francisco streets. Leonard's hand came on top of her own. "Just wait, darlin'," he said, his words dripping with the richness of molasses as he folded his hand around hers.

"It's not polite to make a lady wait," Y/N quipped, shooting him a look out of the corner of her eye.

He snorted but made no attempt at a retort, instead patiently holding her hand until the cab stopped. Y/N opened her door, dragging Leonard by the hand and towards her apartment building.

The ride on the elevator was just as restrained as the cab drive, only instead of the beautiful lights of downtown, the pair stared at their distorted reflection in the sleek chrome doors.

There was a hum in the elevator though. Inaudible, but she could feel it singing across her skin, radiating from each part of her body that touched Leonard's. She bit her lip, and could feel Leonard look down at her. She allowed her gaze to slide over to him, drifting up to his face, meeting his eyes, already dark and boring into hers.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the doors slid open, pulling their attention away from each other and out of the elevator.

The pair walked down the hallway, stopping outside of her door so she could punch in the code. It took two tries for her to get it before the door clicked and she pushed it open, revealing her dark apartment. Y/N ventured in first, turning to invite Leonard in, but she'd barely opened her mouth before her face was in his hands, and he was walking her back into the wall.

The light switch jammed into her shoulder blade, and she felt a bit off balance, but his lips moved over hers with such a ferocity, it pushed everything else from her mind. Instead, all she could focus on was the feeling of his lips against hers, the taste of the sharp tang of alcohol he'd been drinking all evening. He invaded her senses, making it impossible to think of anything other than pulling him closer to her.

Y/N wound her fingers into his hair, urging him nearer to her, which he did, stepping forward, and moving a hand from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him. His other hand wandered down to her chest as his lips began a journey down the curve of her neck. "I don't usually do this type of thing," he murmured against her skin.

"Go home with--ah--a strange woman from the--fu--the bar?" Y/N panted, pushing her hips into his for a taste of the friction she needed.

He pulled himself away from her collarbone to look up at her with hooded eyes. "Exactly."

"You're missing out," Y/N grinned, chest heaving. "Now take off your clothes so I can prove it to you."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of bare skin and desperate sounds and more pleasure than Y/N had gotten out of a night out in a while.

It almost made her sad to see him go in the morning. Almost.

But him leaving was always a part of her plan for Saturday morning. Whether it was before or after breakfast, he would walk out of her apartment, never to be seen again. Instead, he'd fade into a memory of lips trailing against skin, fingers tangling in hair, bed frame rattling into the wall.

At least that's what was supposed to happen.

She wasn't supposed to see him again.

And she especially wasn't supposed to see him in a starship's transporter room, rushing towards her as she pressed her hand into Kiesh's side, desperate to keep the blood inside of her friend's body and not spilling out onto the transporter pad. He wasn't supposed to be there. And neither was she.

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hrina · 4 years

Text

Polished

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 15.6k REQUESTED: nope!

hi everyone 💘 this is the bodyguard AU that i’ve spent all week writing. she’s another long one (i think i have a problem lol) but i worked really hard on it and i’m super proud of how it all turned out. i really hope you like it! if you do, please feel free to leave me some feedback here.

thank u to the people who acted as my betas for portions/the entirety of this fic: @emotionally-imbruised, @gucciwoodnymph, @poppunkdork and @atlafan! i appreciate it so much!

warning: this fic contains mentions of blood, minor violence, attempted assault, weaponry, and a single use of the f-slur. if any of this makes you uncomfortable, please keep scrolling.

with all of that being said, enjoy! i can’t wait to hear ur thoughts 💖

~*~

September 18, 2020

“Cheers!”

The tequila burns its way down your throat as you toss the shot back. Your ears are ringing, the sound amplified by the music pulsing through the nightclub. Lights flash from the ceiling, bathing everything in pinks and blues and greens and purples. To your right, Sydney leans forward, smiles toothily, and yells something at the bartender. You think she might be telling him that it’s her birthday, even though that won’t be true for another month—perhaps it’s an attempt to secure an additional round of drinks. Your hips sway unconsciously as you sink your teeth into a slice of lime.

It’s a Friday night.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch the bartender nodding with a permissive smile on his face.

It’s a Friday night, and Sydney is handing you another shot of tequila.

Someone places their hand on the small of your back as they pass. A little zap of electricity races down your spine.

It’s a Friday night, Sydney is handing you another shot of tequila, and you’re drunk. You’re very, very drunk.

The pinch of salt that you lick off your hand stings the edge of your tongue. You don’t reflect on the sensation for too long, though, choosing instead to tip your shot glass back and let the alcohol run its course. The bottom of the glass thuds against the countertop when you slam it down, but the noise is lost amidst the heavy bass pouring through the club. Sydney smiles up at you as she bites into her lime, a green grin. You laugh.

“So!” your friend screams, grimacing at the sour aftertaste lingering on her lips. “Where’s Harry?”

“What?” You squint and lean in, bending down slightly so that you can hear her properly.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and repeats the question: “Where’s Harry?”

“Oh!” You smirk, shooting her a mischievous wink. “Managed to shake him off for the night!”

“No shit!” Sydney yells, her jaw dropping. “He let you come?”

You pucker your lips, averting your gaze. “Er…not exactly.”

In response, her eyes widen, and she just laughs. You grin when she slaps your arm gently and grabs your wrist, tugging you away from the bar and into the dancing crowd.

“Who cares?” she says loudly, throwing her hands toward the ceiling and shaking her hips. “He’s got a stick up his ass either way!”

Despite your inebriated state, part of you longs to correct her. He’s actually not that bad, you want to say, because it’s true. In public, Harry is stoic and reserved and always on high alert, but that’s because he has to be. It’s his job. You resent the fact that he intimidates your friends, and that it complicates your outings, but you don’t resent him. He’s been assigned to you for two years now, and there’s never been an incident—you wonder if it’s because he’s good at what he does, or because you don’t really need protection after all.

All this time…perhaps your mother was just overly paranoid. And perhaps she continues to be overly paranoid, even to this day.

You shake those thoughts from your mind; they’ll just give you a headache.

Another hand lands on the small of your back, but this time, the contact isn’t fleeting. Fingers pinch and tug at the material of your shirt, relentless. You’re about to whip around and demand that this badgering stranger unhand you, but then a pair of lips are right at the shell of your ear. Hot air fans down your neck—you shiver.

“Why do you insist on making my job so much harder than it has to be?”

~*~

Harry doesn’t speak a word after ushering you into the car. The whole ride back, you sit with your arms crossed, staring out the window and trying to shake off your dizziness. A deep pout is etched into your lips. Your somber expression doesn’t shift, not even when Harry pulls up to the tall metal entrance of your estate, punching in a code on the keypad and sticking his head out of the driver window to undergo a retinal scan. He settles back into his seat afterward, blinking rapidly and waiting for the front gates to creak open.

“How’d you find me?” you slur as you stumble into your bedroom. It’s the first time you’ve spoken since he dragged you out of the club.

Harry doesn’t answer as you make your way over to your bed; your room is large, rivalling the size of an overpriced studio apartment. The furniture is all carved from the finest mahogany, and a glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Tall, full-length windows are framed by satin curtains. On the opposite wall stands the door to your private washroom, and next to it, the entrance to your walk-in closet. It’s lavish, it’s luxurious, but it does nothing to ease the situation at hand.

“What?” you ask, plopping down onto your bed. You lift one foot up, fiddling with the strap around your ankle. “Ignoring me for the night?”

You purse your lips as you struggle to get your heels off. Your head is swimming, and a deep feeling of shame is blossoming in your chest. Groaning loudly, you smack your hands down against the duvet and squeeze your eyes shut.

Footsteps approach, but you pay them no mind. You only open your eyes once you feel a pair of rough—albeit nimble—fingers dance down your shin. Through the slight blur in your vision, you find Harry kneeling before you, his hands working deftly to unclasp the strap on each ankle and gently tug your shoes from your feet. You wiggle your toes, sighing appreciatively.

“Thank you,” you murmur, swallowing heavily.

He only grunts in response.

The two of you sit there in silence—you on your duvet and him on his haunches. He’s looking down at the ground, and you take the moment to study his features—the sharp bridge of his nose, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the twisting of his lips. His black suit fits him well, filled out in all the right places; gold cufflinks glint in the moonlight. He’s attractive, and you’re not blind. But your relationship is strictly professional, no matter how much you like to think that the two of you have grown close enough to be friends.

“Find my iPhone,” Harry mutters suddenly.

“What?”

You recoil. He looks up at you with piercing green eyes, and only then do you realise that he’s answering your initial question.

“Oh,” you say, nodding. “Well…good to know.”

His lips twitch.

You wobble into the washroom, trying your best to rub off the makeup on your face despite your inebriated state. Somewhere beneath the buzz, you know that you didn’t get all of it—and that there’ll probably be dried crusts of mascara beneath your eyes tomorrow—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“You missed some.”

You jump, your gaze snapping upward. In the reflection of the mirror, Harry is leaning against the doorway. You groan, raking your fingers through your hair.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble.

Harry’s brows creep up his forehead, surprise evident on his face. “Aren’t you always telling me that it’s important to take it all off before bed?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m smarter when I’m sober.”

He snorts. “Good one.”

You frown.

He pushes off from the doorway, stepping closer to you and reaching for the pack of discarded makeup wipes. When his eyes meet yours in the mirror, he tilts his head to the side, gesturing to the toilet on your right.

“Sit.”

You pout like a child, plopping down onto the ceramic lid and waiting impatiently. Harry takes his sweet time, slowly pulling a wipe from the package and unfurling it gingerly. You’re momentarily entranced by the way the rings on his fingers sparkle in the light. But then a yawn tears past your lips, and you begin to tap your foot against the bathroom tiles, letting out an annoyed sigh.

“C’mon. I’m tired.”

He shoots you a stern look. It’s enough to shut you up.

You watch him intently as he crouches down in front of you and grabs your chin between his fingers. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs. The deep baritone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

His ministrations aren’t as tender as they should be—you make it a point to tell him as much.

“You’re rubbing too harshly,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. “Be gentler with it.”

“Quiet,” Harry huffs.

Spurred on by his irritation, you continue: “Are you always this rough? Your poor girlfriend…”

He grits his teeth.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he deadpans. You whimper when he drags the wipe unforgivingly over the delicate skin of your eyelids. “But if I did,” he adds, “she’d like it rough.”

Your shoulders stiffen once his words sink in. He says nothing else, choosing instead to crumple the wipe up into a ball and toss it in the garbage. You follow his movements with wide eyes, staring up at him as he stands.

“Brush your teeth,” he tells you, rubbing his fingers over his jawline. “Your breath stinks.”

And then he’s gone.

After a haphazard attempt at brushing your teeth, you shuffle back into your bedroom. Harry is still there, but he’s holding two pieces of fabric for you to take. You recognize them as the baggy t-shirt and the shorts that you usually wear to bed.

“Thank you,” you say, laying the material out on your mattress. Your lips part with another loud yawn as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall from your hips and pool around your ankles. When you cast a glance toward Harry, you find him facing away from you, his fingers laced behind his back.

Always a gentleman.

You tug on the soft, cotton shorts—the hem falls a few inches below your bottom. You reach behind your back, trying to thumb open the clasps of your shirt, but quickly grow frustrated as the seconds draw out.

“Harry,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Yes?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Can you help me with this?”

Gingerly, he peers at you over his shoulder. Once he takes note of the fact that you’re dressed, he steps closer to you. You toss a thumb backward, gesturing to the column of buttons stacked along your spine.

Again, Harry manages the task easily. You stiffen as he parts the fabric of your shirt, your eyelids growing heavy with each new inch of skin exposed. Though he’s not standing nearly as close as you would like, you can still feel faint puffs of air floating across the nape of your neck. The room is silent; you’re afraid that he can hear your heart battering against the confines of your chest.

Do his hands linger a touch longer than necessary, or is it just your imagination?

“Thank you,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

You pull your shirt off, leaving yourself in just a lacy black bra. Harry’s sharp intake of breath is audible, and then he’s whipping back around.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Give a guy a warning next time, yeah?”

“Next time?” you parrot, emboldened by the alcohol in your system. “Am I going to be stripping for you on a daily basis?”

He grunts. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

You smile to yourself, unclipping your bra and shrugging on the baggy t-shirt he’d given you. “I know.” You clear your throat. “You can turn around now. I’m decent.”

Harry glances over at you as you climb into bed, pulling the covers back and nuzzling your face into your pillow. He bites his bottom lip, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as you settle in for the night. Once your shuffling has ceased, he squares his shoulders, his gaze flitting toward the door.

“Well, if that’s everything—,” he starts, taking a step back.

“Wait!” you say, shooting up into a sitting position.

He freezes, his eyes going wide. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you reply. You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your duvet and avoiding his eyes. “Would you—I was just wondering if maybe—you could stay?”

“Stay,” Harry echoes. You nod, still refusing to look at him. He sighs, and the pet name that he seems to have reserved exclusively for you falls past his lips.

“Love…you’re drunk.”

“Exactly,” you shoot back. “I’m drunk and I just…it feels like I’m floating, and I need something to keep me grounded. And—” you groan, “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but could you please stay? Just—just until I fall asleep. Then you’re free to go, or whatever.”

Harry’s eyes are wide by the time you’re through with your little speech. His expression leaves you feeling even more embarrassed than before. You’re about to roll your eyes and grumble out a never mind, I’m being stupid, just leave, but then he’s approaching your bed cautiously, like you’re a deer that he doesn’t want to startle.

“Just until you fall asleep,” he confirms, drumming his fingers over his bicep.

You nod, expecting him to settle into the armchair a few feet away.

He doesn’t though; you watch attentively as he lowers himself down to sit at the edge of your mattress. His posture is stiff, back straight—he uncrosses his arms, but then locks his fingers together and places them securely in his lap. You hold back a laugh.

“You can relax, you know,” you say, rolling onto your side so that you can fix him with earnest eyes. “I won’t bite.” You pause. “Unless you’re into that kind of stuff.”

“I’ll leave,” Harry threatens without missing a beat.

You giggle, smothering your cheek into your pillow. “Fine, fine, I’m sorry.”

The ghost of a smile dances across his lips. Your eyes fall from his face to his lap; without thinking, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and tugging his hands apart.

“It’s already chipping,” you say, a hint of admonishment seeping into your voice. “You should’ve let me put on the protective coat, dummy.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, flexing his fingers in your grasp. “You’re just gonna redo them on Wednesday, anyway.”

“Still,” you murmur, thumbing over the purple varnish on his nails. You scrape your knuckles against his, letting out a quiet sigh. “What colour do you want next? Are we sticking with lavender again?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Let’s try something new.”

“I went shopping yesterday with Sydney and bought mint green,” you tell him through a yawn. “What do you think of that?”

“’S nice,” he replies, though it sounds like he’s far away.

You peer up at him through your lashes, only to find that he’s staring at you intently. Under normal circumstances, you would offer up a quip about how he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. But you’re tired, and you’re warm, and his hand is now stroking over yours, and you don’t want to ruin the moment.

Maybe he’ll stay the night, is your last thought before you drift off to sleep.

When you awaken the next morning with a pounding headache and a dry mouth, Harry’s gone. The only proof left of the night before is a tablet of ibuprofen and a glass of clear liquid sitting on your nightstand. The ceiling wavers above you; you might still be a little drunk.

You sit up, popping the pill into your mouth and knocking it back with a large swig of water. There’s a dull ache in your chest but you ignore it, opting instead to pull the covers back up over your head.

He didn’t stay. You try not to feel too disappointed as the realisation sinks in.

September 23, 2020

Harry is waiting for you once you get out of class.

Usually, you fall into step with him, ready with a teasing remark about how he must not have anything better to do with his time. He knows that the two of you probably look like quite the pair—you, with your bag and your coffee and your cheeky smirk, and him, resigned and rigid and expressionless. He would give anything to claw his way out of this situation, to smile along with you and laugh at your jokes and tuck your hair behind your ear. But he needs this job, and your mother loves him like a son, and he doesn’t want to do anything to screw that up.

Today, however, you leave class with a new friend. Harry’s entire body tenses when he notes just how closely the man is walking next to you. He follows the two of you from a safe distance, trying his best to be inconspicuous. You laugh at something that your companion says, and his jaw clenches—he pretends not to know why.

It feels like eons have passed before you and the man finally part ways. Harry doesn’t waste any time.

“Hey,” you say without even turning to look at him. When he glances down at you, he finds a shadowy smirk on your face.

“Hi,” he replies, clearing his throat. “Good class?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“That’s good.”

He blows out a breath, pushing through a door and holding it open for you to follow. You thank him softly, releasing a happy sigh as the warm sunlight hits your face. Harry’s gaze is drawn to the serenity of your features, but he looks away quickly. He’s not really in the mood to endure your taunts. Not today.

“So,” he starts as the two of you amble down the sidewalk, “you made a new friend?”

“Yeah,” you say, shouldering the strap of your messenger bag. “His name is Kevin. He’s nice.”

“He’s funny, too, I’m guessing.” The slightest tinge of bitterness seeps into his words. He hopes that you won’t notice, but of course, you’re as perceptive as ever.

You glance over at him, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Harry keeps his eyes trained in front of him, where he can see a black car inching into view on the road ahead. Your chauffeur rolls down the window, lifting one hand in greeting. Harry waves back, his expression betraying nothing.

“It’s a good thing you know better, then, isn’t it?”

You laugh at his comeback, but the noise isn’t as cheerful as usual. If anything, it sounds a bit forced.

“Yeah,” you say. Harry opens the car door for you, and you climb into the backseat. “I guess it is.”

~*~

“Your hand is shaking.”

“It’s not my hand, it’s yours.”

“You’re smudging it.”

“Because you keep moving!”

You sigh, sitting back against the headboard of your bed and squeezing your eyes shut. You don’t need to see Harry to know that he’s fighting a smirk. The discography of your newest celebrity obsession is playing on your phone. Harry has told you multiple times that he hates this song—and that’s exactly why you have it on repeat.

“Can we please listen to something else?” he asks, shifting carefully on your bed.

You crack one eye open. “Can you stay still long enough for me to finish doing your nails?”

“Fine.”

You scoot closer to him, reaching for your phone and shuffling the songs in your library. Harry exhales in relief when a new, slower melody begins to trickle from the device. You toss it away, holding out your hand and looking at him expectantly. He lifts his chin, placing his fingers onto one of your crossed legs.

The sensation of his hand on your knee shouldn’t leave you breathless, but it does. You feel like his palm is burning a hole through your sweatpants. It’s been like this for as long as you can remember—painting his nails every Wednesday night, listening to music and enjoying each other’s company. Some evenings, conversation is scarce; others, it’s like you haven’t spoken in months. It doesn’t make a difference to you—you just like knowing that he’s there.

“How’d the call with your mum go?” Harry says. He makes a move to rest his chin against his fist before realising that the action will inevitably disrupt the polish on his other hand. You notice, smiling softly at the awkward moment.

“It went well,” you hum. Harry likes the way you purse your lips in concentration. “She’d landed in Amsterdam a couple hours prior. Called me when she got to the hotel.”

“That’s good.” He blows out a breath. “How long is she staying for?”

“A few months.”

“I see.”

You peer up at him, your eyes swimming with curiosity. “Do you know why she’s there?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you lying to me?”

“Love,” he starts, frowning gently, “you know she doesn’t—I’m not—she doesn’t keep me in her circle.”

“I know,” you say, somewhat mournfully. “I just thought—maybe she would’ve told you.”

A dejected crease forms on your forehead. Harry longs to lean forward and smooth it out with his lips. He hates when you get like this, but on the other hand, he can’t blame you. Surely, it must be difficult to be kept in the dark, especially for so long. It’s been years, and you’re still not exactly sure of what your mother has gotten herself into.

And despite your frequent questions about her trips, you’re not exactly sure if you want to know.

Silence ensues, and the two of you wordlessly agree to drop the topic—at least for tonight. You finish painting the nail on Harry’s middle finger, bending down and blowing cool air on the wet varnish in hopes of speeding up the drying process.

“Careful,” he warns when your hair tumbles over your shoulder. Without thinking, he reaches out, trying his best to gather the strands in one hand so that they don’t fall onto the freshly-painted nails splayed out over your knee.

You squawk in surprise, sitting back up and circling your fingers around his wrist. “What’d you do that for?” you say, admonishment evident in your tone. “You’re gonna screw these ones up!”

“I was just—!” he tries, but you shush him, scrutinising the semi-dry polish on his other hand. After a long moment, you sigh in relief, returning it and narrowing your eyes at him.

“You’re lucky,” you tell him, snorting quietly. “I would’ve killed you.”

“Like you could take me,” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

You smirk, peering down at the mint green covering three out of his five nails. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers over the hills of his knuckles, softly tweaking his pinky at the end of your journey.

“We’ve come a long way since the black, haven’t we?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. “That was so boring.”

“It was.” Harry nods.

It’s comical, really—a big man like him, sitting cross-legged on your bed. A man covered in an intimidating black suit, hunched over and watching with wide eyes as you meticulously paint shiny varnish onto each one of his nails.

A year ago, you would have been reminding him of this at every available opportunity.

Now, though…now, you’re just enjoying the closeness of it all.

“Er,” Harry clears his throat, and you peer up at him through your lashes.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“I—,” he looks away. “I just wanted to apologise for earlier today.”

“Earlier today…,” you trail off, frowning in confusion. “What happened earlier today?”

“When I—when you—never mind.” He shakes his head.

You smile. “I’m totally fucking with you,” you tell him, snickering quietly. You shrug. “And it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Harry’s brow furrows. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, his lips curling down into a scowl.

You laugh, reaching forward and shoving his shoulder gently. “You love it.” Your own shoulders shake as you look back down, dipping the dried nail brush into its accompanying pot of green polish.

“Plus,” you add, trying to keep your voice light. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Unfortunately, you’re the only man in my life.”

Harry lifts one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Should I be insulted?”

You resume painting his nails, giggling at his sardonic tone. “You should be flattered.”

October 10, 2020

You’re walking back to the car when it happens.

It’s a beautiful day—the sun is shining brightly, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. You and Harry pass by a woman walking her dog, but not before you bend down, transferring all of your shopping bags into one hand (a feat, Harry thinks) and cooing at the furry little creature.

“She’s adorable,” you tell the owner, peering up at her with shining eyes. “What’s her name?”

“Blossom,” the woman replies, smiling.

“Blossom,” you repeat, turning your gaze back to the fluffy white dog. “Oh, you’re beautiful, aren’t you? I just want to eat you up.”

The owner laughs nervously—Harry doesn’t blame her. You’re harmless, but he’s right behind you. He’s sure that he looks intimidating, lingering in a black suit with his arms crossed over his chest. He makes no move to engage with the woman or her dog, even though the little boy in him yearns to run his fingers through Blossom’s soft white fur. Instead, he stands there, waiting patiently as you bid the lady goodbye and blow one last kiss in her pet’s general direction.

The two of you continue walking; the car is only about fifty feet away.

“That was one of the cutest dogs I’ve ever seen,” you say once you’re out of earshot. You glance back over your shoulder, sighing longingly. “Do you think she’d put her up for sale if I asked?”

Despite himself, Harry smirks.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he begins, uncrossing his arms. “You can’t buy everything you see.”

“I bought you, didn’t I?”

“I’m not for sale. And even if I was, technically it would’ve been your mother who bought me.”

“Okay, well then, we bought…your services.”

“Jesus.” He shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “You make it sound like I’m a prostitute or something.”

You laugh.

Harry loves your laugh. He loves the sound, loves the tone, loves the pitch. He loves the way your features crinkle up with joy as the noise slips from your mouth. Every time he hears your giggle, his gaze is drawn to your face, like an inborn reflex.

He’s grateful for that. He sends out a prayer of thanks to whatever mighty powers that may be, because when he looks at you, he sees everything. He sees your smile, the apples of your cheeks, your full, fluttering lashes.

And he sees the shaky red dot positioned squarely between your eyes.

“Get down!”

You squawk in surprise when he tackles you to the ground.

“Harry—!” you start, but then a telltale whizz! rockets past your ear.

You scream.

Your shoulder makes contact with the cement of the sidewalk, and a flare of pain blazes up your arm. Harry’s on top of you in an instant, his hands on either side of your head and his green eyes wild with panic. You’ve never seen him look so scared.

You know what’s happening, but you can’t seem to move. Your pretty pastel shopping bags are lying around you in a heap. Some are still on your arm, digging into your wrist and cutting off circulation. Harry appears to realise this as well, because he climbs to his knees and yanks your hands free.

“Go!” he shouts, but his voice is muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The two of you stagger to your feet. You take in your surroundings, your lips parted in shock. “My—my bags…”

“Forget the bags!” he yells. He grips your biceps callously, spinning you around and shoving you in the direction of the car. “Fucking run!”

~*~

“Harry…”

“Harry.”

“Harry!”

“What?” he roars, whipping around.

You stumble backward, nearly bumping into the wall behind you. You’re standing in the front foyer of your estate, your face littered with tears and your hands perpetually shaky. Harry locks the door and then wrenches closed the curtains on the windows flanking the entrance. The abrupt action causes him to wince.

“You’re hurt,” you state, though your voice is weak. “Harry, your arm…”

“’S just a graze,” he mutters, turning on his heel and storming past you.

You follow him as he makes his way toward the tall, winding staircase in the middle of the room. The steps span every level of your house, from the top floor to the basement. Harry pauses on the first stair of the flight leading downward, his hand on the bannister and his back to you.

“Go to your room,” he orders lowly, refusing to look at you. “And stay there.”

“Go to my room?” you repeat incredulously, your eyes bulging out of your head. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Harry doesn’t reply; instead, he blocks you out, descending the stairs into the basement without another word. You let out an angry yell, furiously fisting the material of your cashmere sweater. A few long moments elapse before you grit your teeth, and then your feet are smacking heatedly against each step as you rush after him.

You’re quiet once you reach the bottom of the flight, looking both ways for any clue as to where he could’ve gone. You purse your lips when you see him turn the corner, his left hand clutching his right bicep and a deep scowl etched into his face. Silently, you follow.

He ducks into a room at the end of the hall, pushing the door closed. However, it doesn’t click into place, leaving a small crack for you to peek through once you reach the threshold. You place one hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing, watching with wide eyes as Harry yanks his suit jacket from his torso.

His white button up is crisp and pristine—save for the right sleeve, which is soaked through with blood. You nearly gag.

Harry stalks through another doorway—a quick glimpse inside reveals it to be a bathroom. You push open your door ever-so-slightly, taking in the scene in front of you.

His bedroom. Of course.

You’ve never actually been inside his room. You’ve always known he lived somewhere in the house—a safe haven to frequent after midnight—but you’d never been bold enough to seek it out. You’re surprised to find that his room is quite similar to yours. It’s smaller in size, but the layout is the same (excluding your full-length windows and luxurious chandelier). The walls are painted a deep shade of burgundy, and the bed is made up of black satin sheets. He also has a walk-in closet and an adjoining washroom, just like you.

Bolstered by your discovery, you slip inside, nudging the door closed. Something on his dresser glints, catching your eye—you turn toward it.

It’s a picture frame. Upon closer inspection, you notice that it bears a photo of Harry. He’s young, but not that much younger than you are, now—maybe nineteen or twenty. He’s got his arms wrapped around two women, holding them against his sides; one is older, her face slightly weathered with age, whereas the other is youthful and alert, sporting bright eyes and smooth cheeks.

With a jolt, you realise that Harry and both of these women all look eerily similar—and that they all share the same smile.

The sound of running water jerks you out of your daze. Your head snaps up in the direction of the washroom; the door has been left ajar.

Harry is standing in front of the sink, soaking a washcloth underneath the faucet. His hair is dishevelled, and his button-up has been ripped open, exposing his chest and abdomen. A silver pendant—a dog tag—hangs from his neck. You’re shocked to discover all of the tattoos littering his skin—you’ve only ever been privy to the cross inked into the dip of his thumb.

Your eyes trail up his body, landing once again on the bloody sleeve covering his arm. The sight of it is enough, giving you the courage you need to speak up.

“Just a graze, huh?”

Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet yours in the mirror. A small part of you is upset that you didn’t manage to catch him by surprise. Are you really that predictable?

“Thought I told you to go to your room.”

You place your hands on your hips, scowling deeply. “And I thought you were twenty-six, not fifty. Who are you, my father?”

“No,” Harry says, and you hate the coolness with which he addresses you. He wraps the wet washcloth around his fingers, squeezing excess water from the fabric. “But I am your bodyguard.”

“You’re also hurt,” you retaliate, taking a step toward him.

Harry moves to the side, trying to put some distance between your bodies, but you’re not deterred. You back him up until his leg knocks against the edge of the bathtub, lifting one eyebrow challengingly because he has nowhere to go. His nostrils flare in irritation—you don’t think he’s ready to give up.

“You have two options,” you tell him, set on holding your ground. “You can either stop being such a proud prick and let me help you, or we can stay like this, and you can bleed out onto the bathroom floor.”

A long stretch of silence ensues. Harry stares at you with hard eyes, but you refuse to let your foundation crumble. Just when you think he’s going to force his way out of the situation, he sighs in defeat, his shoulders slumping dejectedly. You hold out your hand, and he dumps the washcloth into your waiting palm.

“Come here,” you say, backing up.

You hop onto the counter, spreading your legs and beckoning him closer.

He hesitates. You roll your eyes.

“Get over yourself,” you snap, shaking your head. “You’re not that dreamy.”

It’s unmistakably a lie, and you both know it, but neither of you say anything. Harry settles into the gap between your knees, keeping his arms securely at his sides. You peer up at him nervously, setting the washcloth down onto the counter and reaching forward to lightly grasp the collar of his shirt.

“This might hurt a bit,” you whisper, tugging the material away from his shoulders. He hisses when the fabric passes over his wound, scraping unpleasantly against the raw skin. You purse your lips, murmuring gentle apologies.

His left arm is covered in tattoos. You want to stop what you’re doing, trail your fingers over each design, and marvel at every little detail. But you can’t—you have bigger things to worry about at the moment, and not even your priorities are that screwed up.

Harry swears under his breath when you press the washcloth to his bicep. The material is warm and wet, and you use it to soak up the blood that’s been smeared down to his elbow. Once you’ve cleaned the area around his wound, you lean in to get a better look at what you’re dealing with.

The skin is pink and irritated, and there’s a deep groove running across the width of his arm. He’s lucky—he’s so, so lucky—but even as you stare, blood begins to pool all over again. You quickly press the washcloth back against the laceration.

“Fuck!” he chokes, reaching out and gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry.” You shift, trying to catch his eyes. “Do you have any disinfectant? And bandages?”

He nods, bending down and pulling open one of the cupboards below the sink.

“Let me—,” you start, but he cuts you off quickly.

“Still got one good arm, don’t I?” he grumbles.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to reply.

The disinfectant stings like a bitch—you tell him as much before spritzing it onto his wound. He lets loose a string of colourful curse words, and despite the tension hanging in the air, you smile. The bandages are next; you rip off a long strip, winding it around his bicep and tying it into a tight knot at the end.

“You need to keep pressure on it,” you murmur, though you don’t know who you’re addressing. “That should stop the bleeding, eventually.”

“Eventually,” he echoes. You stare fixedly at his collarbones and nod.

A beat of silence passes between you.

“I’m sorry,” you finally mumble, looking down at your lap.

He grunts. “For what?”

“For this,” you say, shaking your head and gesturing between your bodies. “You—you got shot, Harry.”

“Graze,” he reminds you, but the correction only makes you feel worse.

“It doesn’t matter!” you say, looking up at him earnestly. “You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t,” he says. He’s staring at the mirror behind your head, refusing to meet your gaze. “And if it weren’t for me, you would have died.”

“That’s exactly my point!” you cry. You wrap your fingers around his forearm, hoping that the contact is enough to make him understand. “Who says my life is more valuable than yours? Some stupid fucking paycheque? Or—?”

Harry cuts you off before you can say anything else, squishing your cheeks together with his left hand. You make a surprised sound in the back of your throat, your brows knitting together at the suddenness of the action. You’re sure that you must look extremely unappealing, with a puckered mouth and inquisitive eyes, but he just gazes at you solemnly, licking his lips before speaking.

“I would take a bullet for you, no questions asked.” He stresses every syllable, like he doesn’t want to risk any potential misinterpretation of his words. “And not just because it’s my job.”

For the first time since he’s known you, he witnesses you speechless. Your squished lips part, but no words come out. Harry sighs, releasing your cheeks and stepping back from in between your legs. You watch as he approaches the bathroom door, pulling it wide open and making his request clear.

“You should get some rest,” he mutters, and once again, he refuses to meet your eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

October 12, 2020

Harry pokes his head through your bedroom door just as you end the call with your mother. You groan, tossing your phone onto your mattress and flinging yourself into the mountain of pillows piled against the headboard. When you catch sight of him in the periphery of your vision, you greet him with a glare.

“You told her?”

He shrugs, stepping into your room and clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s my job.”

“No,” you say, mildly annoyed. “Your job is to make sure that I don’t get killed. Not to go running to my mother at the first sign of danger.”

Harry bristles. “She’s my boss. And you’re her daughter—she deserves to know.”

You groan, shutting your laptop and rolling over onto your stomach. Your sheets are soft; you wish that you could sink into the fabrics and let them swallow you up until you wink out of existence.

“What did she say?” Harry asks, snapping you out of your reverie.

“She wanted to come home,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I told her to stay where she was.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fine!” you tell him, exasperation leaking into your words. “And I know that I’ll never hear the end of it if she has to cut her trip short because of me. God forbid she act like a parent for once in her life.”

“She’s trying her best.”

You laugh hollowly, turning onto your back and staring up at the ceiling. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

Harry doesn’t respond.

You peer over at him with raised brows, like you’re truly noticing his presence for the first time. “I’m surprised you’re still on duty. Does she not care about the fact that you’re injured?”

Again, he doesn’t respond. His silence, however, reveals everything.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Bullshit,” you bark out, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. “So, what?” you ask, your lips curling down into a scowl. “You get to decide what’s ‘relevant’?”

“I’m here to protect you,” Harry states firmly, fixing you with stern eyes. “And I can’t do that from the sidelines.”

You scoff but say nothing else. A hush washes over the two of you, hanging heavy in the air. You pick at a loose thread on your duvet, your brows tucked tightly together.

Harry is the first one to break.

“Have you told your friends?”

You shake your head.

“Why not?”

“They don’t need to know.” You shrug. “Sydney’s rented out a booth for her birthday on Saturday, so I’m just going to go and pretend like nothing ever—”

“Hold on,” he cuts you off, wrinkles creasing into the skin of his forehead. “You—you’re joking, right?”

“Why would I joke about Sydney’s birthday?”

“No, I mean—,” he grunts, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. You stare at him, utterly bewildered. He stands up to his full height, and the exasperation warping his features fades; apathy takes its place. “I’m sorry, but you’re not going.”

“What?” you shriek. Your unbothered appearance quickly disintegrates into a heated grimace. “What do you mean, I’m not going?”

“You’re not going,” he repeats, and you hate the calm—almost tranquil—expression on his face. “That’s final.”

“Okay,” you start, scrambling to your feet and holding up your hands. “Let’s pause for a second, yeah? I know we fuck around and laugh about my daddy issues sometimes, but…you do know that you’re not actually my father, right?”

“This isn’t about your daddy issues,” Harry declares, though his tone is void of any and all emotion. “It’s about your safety.”

“And what about my sanity?” you fire back. You tug the sleeves of your crewneck over your clenched fists, desperately searching for something to keep you from falling apart. “Are you saying that I’m basically trapped in my own goddamn house?”

“You’re being dramatic.” The mask that he’s wearing seems to have been carved from stone.

“Well, you’re being a dick.”

“I can live with that.”

“Harry!” You stomp your foot—like a fucking child—as your eyes dampen with tears. Your initial sense of shock washes away, replaced by a helplessness that you haven’t felt in a long time.

The next question that leaves your lips is pathetically frail.

“Why are you doing this?”

He finally meets your gaze, and for the first time since he’d walked in, it feels like he’s looking at you rather than through you. His back straightens, shoulders squaring like he’s preparing for divine combat. You approach him carefully, a stray tear streaking down your face. Before you can wipe it away on the material of your sleeve, Harry is reaching out with his uninjured arm, cupping your cheek and catching the droplet with his thumb.

“Less than forty-eight hours ago, an attempt was made on your life,” he murmurs, staring at you with earnest green eyes. “And you’re already so willing to risk it again?”

You sniffle, lifting your chin in defiance and batting his hand away. Harry’s expression falls, and his gaze grows cold once more. You wrap your arms around your torso, glaring at him angrily. Your subsequent command drips with venom.

“Get out.”

He doesn’t put up a fight.

October 14, 2020

It’s nearly one in the morning when someone knocks on your bedroom door. At first, you don’t hear it, too preoccupied with the song pouring from your headphones into your ears. But then it’s there again, a bit firmer this time, and you pause your music, calling out a gentle, “Come in!”

You don’t know who you’re expecting to see. Maybe it’s one of the housekeepers, doing some late-night laundry and bringing you fresh towels for the next day. Maybe your personal chef has been baking cookies again—a common coping mechanism for when she can’t sleep. Your mouth waters at the thought.

All of your hopes are dashed, however, when the door creaks open.

The first thing you notice is that Harry’s not wearing his usual attire. You don’t know why you’re surprised—it’s past midnight, and he’s technically off-duty. It’s still shocking, though, seeing him sporting a plain t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants instead of the crisp, dark suit to which you’ve grown so accustomed. Your eyes drop to his hands—at least he’s still wearing his rings.

“Hi,” Harry utters lowly.

You turn back to your laptop, not saying a word.

He sighs, dragging a palm down the side of his face. Fresh bandages peek out from beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. For some reason, the sight startles you, and you remember that this is the man who had quite literally taken a bullet for you.

You suppose that it’s time to remove your head from your ass.

You shut your computer, pushing it to the side before tossing your legs over the edge of the bed. Harry watches you cautiously as you approach him, still as a statue. Swallowing heavily, you reach out, pushing the sleeve of his shirt up and brushing your fingers over his wounded bicep.

“How is it?” you ask, your voice no higher than a whisper.

He relents, shoulders deflating as he exhales. “’S better. Still sore, but it’s healing.”

“Can I see?”

He nods.

You’re surprised at how easily he lets you take the lead. You push the door closed with one hand, lifting your chin in the direction of your bed. He obeys your silent request and pads over to your mattress, easing down onto the duvet with his sock-clad feet still flat against the floor. You join him a moment later, settling in on his right side and crossing your legs to get comfortable.

His arms are limp, but his posture is straight. He stares at the door as you tug on the knot of his bandages, watching as they loosen around his bicep. Slowly, you unwind the gauze, subconsciously holding in a breath and awaiting what lies beneath.

The graze has started to heal. The skin around it is a lighter shade of pink, and the wound itself has begun to mend. You’re relieved to see that there’s no blood dotting his skin. Out of the corner of your eye, Harry’s throat bobs with a heavy swallow.

“It looks good,” you murmur, unsure of whether you’re talking to him or to yourself.

He just nods again, remaining motionless as you wrap the gauze back around his arm. You redo the knot at the end, and then you have to physically restrain yourself from leaning forward and smoothing your lips over the concealed wound.

Instead, your hands fall to his wrist. Harry stiffens, but then relaxes when you lift his fingers up to your face. Your brows furrow as you study the chipped green varnish on his nails. He’s been choosing the same colour for weeks, now—you’re glad that he seems to like it.

“Do you want me to?” you ask softly, peering up at him through your lashes. You’ve never been in his company so late at night (whilst sober, at least) but you suppose that there’s a first time for everything.

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, fidgeting with the material of his sweatpants. “Please.”

You shoot him the tiniest smile imaginable, and then you stand, making your way into the washroom to retrieve the worn, well-loved nail kit hidden under the sink.

~*~

“Do you want to keep the green?”

He shakes his head. “No, let’s try something else.”

“Okay.” You nod, dumping the contents of the bag onto your mattress. Little, colourful glass bottles clink together as they roll out onto your duvet. You look up at Harry with a raised eyebrow, gesturing luridly to the selection laid out in front of him. “Take your pick.”

His gaze sweeps over each shade before he shrugs—you don’t miss the slight wince of pain that passes over his lips. “I can’t decide,” he says simply, and when he looks back up at you, he’s almost shy. “You choose.”

“You’re giving me a lot of power, you know,” you say wryly. A soft chuckle slips from his mouth. After a brief moment of deliberation, you settle on pastel yellow, holding up the bottle so that he can see it clearly. “This might be pretty.”

“Pretty,” he echoes, staring straight into your eyes. His gaze knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you wondering if he’s talking about the colour, or about…something else.

You give the tiny bottle a good shake, catching sight of your phone laying off to the side. Without thinking, you snatch it up from the duvet, unlocking it and tapping onto your music app.

You hand the device over to Harry. When he shoots you a confused look, you just say, “If I’m picking the shade, you can pick the songs. Seems fair to me.”

He smiles.

You screw open the cap of the nail polish, studying the consistency of the liquid inside. “I might need to apply two coats to make it opaque enough,” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

Harry just hums in agreement as he scrolls through your music library.

He eventually seems to settle on a decision, because just then, a soft, monotone note wafts out from your phone’s speaker. You recognize the tune right away.

“Girl Crush?” you ask, the corners of your lips kinking up into a nostalgic smile. “I would’ve never guessed.”

He returns your tender expression, tilting his head to the side sheepishly. “It’s a nice song.”

“It is,” you concur. A sharp spark passes between your fingers when you reach for his hand, but neither of you comment on it. “Okay,” you say, shooting him a faux-menacing look. “Don’t move.”

The two of you sit in silence for the next ten minutes. You’re meticulous as you paint the varnish onto each one of Harry’s nails, your tongue caught between your teeth and your brow furrowed in concentration. You can feel him staring at you—he’s practically burning a hole through your head—but you say nothing, mostly because a small part of you is enjoying the attention.

“What were you doing before I showed up?” Harry asks quietly, breaking the silence.

“Working on a presentation for my seminar class,” you hum, dipping the nail brush back into its bottle. “It’s due Friday.”

“Are you nearly finished with it?”

You shake your head. “Not even close.”

“Love,” he starts, and you think you hear a hint of admonishment creeping into his tone. “Why’re you wasting your time giving me a bloody manicure?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You wave away his qualms with an absentminded flick of your hand. “I’ll get it done; I promise.” You pause for a moment, puckering your lips before you add, “Plus, I like doing your nails. It’s therapeutic.”

“Therapeutic,” he repeats. It’s obvious that he doesn’t believe you.

“Yeah,” you nod, blowing cool air over his fingers. “It’s nice—this. Us.”

He doesn’t reply.

You start on his other hand, careful with your ministrations. The memory of his closing wound is still fresh in your mind, and you don’t want to risk any sudden movements that might open it back up. You work noiselessly for the next few minutes.

“It’s weird seeing you dressed like this,” you murmur suddenly. The words slip out before you have the time to register them.

Harry chuckles faintly. “I’m usually on-duty, aren’t I?” When you nod, he continues: “Plus, we’ve never done this so late at night.”

“We can,” you say, perhaps a little too quickly. Your ears grow hot with embarrassment, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful for the fact that you have an excuse to not look at him. You stare hard at the rings on his fingers, swallowing heavily. “I mean…if you want. I’m sure it’s more comfortable sitting in sweatpants instead of slacks.”

“Don’t you have an early class on Thursdays, though?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his question ripe with subtle mockery.

You chew on your bottom lip and refrain from telling him that you’ll happily show up to class with bags under your eyes if it means spending more of your time like this—with him. “Oh. Right.”

He laughs softly, and silence falls over the two of you once more. Just when you think that your conversation has tapered off for the night, he addresses the elephant in the room that you’ve both been trying your hardest to ignore.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

You freeze, nearly smearing a glob of yellow onto the cuticle of his pinky. When you offer up nothing in response, Harry persists.

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” he mutters, lowering his head in shame. “I hated seeing you like that.”

You look up at him with wide, shining eyes. You’ve never witnessed him so full of remorse—the sight makes your heart ache.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, discarding the nail brush back into the pot of bright varnish. “I—you were probably right, anyway. It’s too dangerous.”

“No.” He purses his lips. “I think I was just being selfish. I was…trying to protect my ego.”

“What do you mean?” you ask softly.

His fingers flex when you stroke over the rough skin of his knuckles. He sighs.

“It’s my job to keep you safe,” he says. The words are slightly strained. “And I nearly failed.”

“But you didn’t,” you say, leaning forward.

“But I almost did!” he counters. You recoil, stunned by the emotion in his voice. He clears his throat and covers your hands with his. You can’t even be bothered to worry about the fact that his nails might ruin.

“When you told me that you were going out again, and so soon…,” Harry trails off, shaking his head. “I panicked, and I tried to take control. I’m sorry.”

You squeeze his wrists comfortingly and nod. “It’s alright,” you say thickly. “I forgive you.”

He blows out a relieved sigh, straightening up and blinking rapidly. Just like that, all evidence of his personal sentiments is gone. He can turn his feelings on and off so quickly—you suppose that it’s necessary in his line of work. Still, though…you don’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed.

“You should go to Sydney’s birthday,” he states matter-of-factly.

A small smile forms on your face. “I—are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He bobs his head in approval. “But I’m coming, too, obviously. Need to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

Your modest smile grows into a bright grin. Somewhere beneath your vibrant excitement, you realise that both of your hands are still tucked tightly between his.

“Escorted to a party by my hot, British bodyguard,” you tease. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

October 17, 2020

The club is packed. You can barely move, squished between perspiring bodies and gyrating hips. You can’t even see the bar because of how many people are crowding the counter, waiting to order their drinks. It’s dark, and hot, and the air smells of sweat and desire—typical.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve never come out on a Saturday night. The pros simply do not outweigh the cons.

Thankfully, though, these aren’t normal circumstances.

The booth that Sydney has rented is a beacon of hope, a little island of peace in the surrounding sea of chaos. You’re right next to the birthday girl, laughing at how captivated she is by the song booming through the building. She wraps one arm around you, tilting her head up and accepting another swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

The rest of your friends are scattered. Some are with you, lounging in the booth and drunkenly screaming lyrics up at the ceiling. Others are out on the dance floor, blending into the crowd and twirling around without a care in the world.

Sydney is plastered; you’re not too far behind.

A quick glimpse at your phone tells you that it’s a few minutes past one in the morning. It also makes you realise just how badly you need to pee.

There’s a man standing near the bar—he’s been eyeing you unsubtly all night. From what you can tell, he’s cute. A baby blue button-up hugs his shoulders nicely, and his blonde, shaggy hair is swept sideways on his forehead. He’s tall and handsome, and you don’t think you’d mind kissing him. As you inch your way toward the edge of the booth, a large part of you wonders why you haven’t already made a move.

You trip over your own two feet as you stand, and you’re sure that you would have broken your fall with your face if it weren’t for the strong pair of arms that catch you mid-tumble.

And oh. It comes rushing back to you, wrapped up in stark clarity.

That’s why.

Harry’s pained grunt reverberates lowly in your ear. With a loud gasp, you realise that your fingers are digging loosely into his injured bicep.

“I’m so sorry!” you yell over the music as he helps you back onto your feet. “Are you okay?”

He just nods, shaking off his discomfort and clenching his jaw.

He hasn’t moved from the edge of the booth all night. He’s been standing there for hours, untouched by the turbulent current of drunk socialites. You suppose that it’s because he appears to be just another member of security, watching the crowd and ensuring that everyone is staying safe.

“Where are you going?” Harry shouts. His question is barely audible, swept away by the basslines vibrating through your body.

“Bathroom!” you yell back.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. You pat his shoulder gently and shake your head. “I think I’m perfectly capable of taking a piss by myself! Thank you, though!”

He frowns, looking like he wants to argue. When he sees the expectant, mocking expression on your face, however, he clamps his mouth shut.

You shoot him an appreciative smile, tossing your thumb over your shoulder and barking out a quick promise of, “I’ll be right back!”

You’re pleased to discover that the washrooms of the club are split up into private cubicles rather than simply aggregated in one big space. The walls of the corridor are lined with doors and littered with a few drunken stragglers. You pass a man and a woman who are locked in a blazing kiss, and a hot pang of longing claws its way down your sternum, settling uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach.

The last cubicle on your right is vacant. Breathing out a quick prayer of thanks, you duck inside. There’s an empty shot glass standing on the edge of the sink, but other than that, the room is in good condition. You tug your underwear down as you position yourself above the toilet, clutching the hem of your dress close to your chest and doing what you came to do.

Two minutes and one flush later, you’re screwing open the faucet, sighing happily as cool water runs over your wrists. To your right, a dispenser containing lavender-scented soap is nailed into the wall. You wash your hands quickly before wringing them out and wiping the excess wetness against your thighs.

When you open the washroom door, you freeze in your tracks. A man—that same man who’s been making eyes at you all night—is standing in the threshold.

He’s even taller in person. And now that you’re closer to him (and shrouded in better lighting) you can see that his hair isn’t blonde like you’d originally thought, but light brown. His eyes are a stark shade of cobalt blue, attentive enough to indicate that he might be one of the only sober people in the entire building.

“Hi.” His voice is as smooth as velvet.

“Hi,” you reply, offering up a small, wary smile. He’s cute, but who the fuck tries to pick a woman up as she exits the bathroom?

“My name’s Lukas,” he says, holding out his hand. You take it gingerly, quietly introducing yourself in return. He smiles at the mention of your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” You stand on your tiptoes, peering over his shoulder and chewing on your bottom lip. “Sorry, my friends are waiting—”

“That’s a pretty dress,” Lukas tells you, placing his hands on either side of the doorway. Somewhere beneath the buzz of alcohol in your system, you’re aware that he’s successfully blocked your only way out. He takes a step toward you, and you match it with a step back, nearly tripping over a shallow crack in one of the tiles on the floor.

“Thanks,” you say, your lips curling into a dim scowl, “but I really should be going.”

“Or we could hang out in here,” he suggests, shrugging innocently (in the back of your mind, you know that his thoughts must be the furthest thing from innocent.) “Just the two of us.”

“No, thanks.” You shake your head vehemently. Your palm finds a place on the wall, and you use the leverage to keep yourself steady. Your eyes rake down his body as he inches toward you, searching for any potential weak points.

Elbow to the nose? Knee to the groin?

Just then, a gruff utterance of your name is heard from out in the hall. You nearly sob in relief.

“Harry!”

Less than a moment later, a large, sweaty hand slaps down over your mouth. You squeal, frightened tears rushing to your eyes as Lukas heaves you up against the wall. He digs his fingers into the column of your throat, keeping you pinned with one hand while the other reaches for the door, aiming to slam it shut.

Before it can close all the way, a strong, ringed hand appears out of nowhere, shoving the barrier back open. Hinges creak as the doorknob crashes into the side of the wall, nearly putting a hole through the plaster.

Harry’s nostrils flare as he absorbs the scene laid out in front of him. Only a second passes before he’s stalking inside the cubicle, his mossy eyes alight with one palpable emotion: rage.

“Get the fuck off of her!” he bellows.

His palms make contact with Lukas’ shoulders, and he uses the brunt of his weight to shove him away from you. The other man goes tumbling into the opposite wall, almost stumbling over the porcelain bowl of the toilet.

“The fuck is your problem?” Lukas snaps, rubbing the back of his head as he regains his bearings.

Harry pulls you out of harm’s way, putting himself between you and your aggressor. You watch the scene unfold from behind him, anxiously fumbling with the hem of your dress.

“Don’t—,” Harry points at Lukas threateningly. His voice has returned to its normal, low octave, but you can still hear the fury simmering beneath his words, “—ever fucking touch her again.”

Lukas pushes himself off of the wall, cracking his knuckles and angling his head to the side. His blue irises glimmer maliciously as he looks over at you.

“Is this your boyfriend, sweetheart?” he asks. The words are nothing but a wicked taunt. He sizes Harry up, assessing his figure.

You watch his eyes widen when they land on the pale yellow polish decorating your bodyguard’s nails, and then—much to your horrified surprise—he laughs.

“Oh, my mistake.” He shakes his head, a spiteful smile splitting across his face. “He’s just a fuckin’ faggot.”

Harry doesn’t react to the insult—but you do. Before you can even register your actions, you’re slipping out from behind him, lifting your arm high into the air and delivering a sharp, backhanded blow to Lukas’ right cheek.

Your knuckles sting at the contact, but the pain is overshadowed by the smug sense of vindication that settles in your chest. Anger warps your features, turning you into someone unrecognizable.

“How dare—?”

The rest of your sentence dissolves into an alarmed shriek when Lukas seizes your wrist. He snarls.

“Know your place, bitch!”

You brace yourself for his retaliation, but the strike never comes. In the blink of an eye, Harry has Lukas’ arm pinned behind his back. Blue eyes well up with agony, and a pained shout slips from his lips. You recoil, startled by the sudden shift of power.

Harry leans down, his mouth just above Lukas’ ear. He glances up at you briefly before looking back down at the cowering man before him. In that moment, your gazes meet for only a millisecond, but the contact somehow puts you at ease.

“Apologise to the lady,” Harry mutters, pulling Lukas’ arm even tighter across his back. “Or I break it.”

Lukas whimpers, glaring up at you with angry eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out, though there’s no sincerity behind the phrase.

Wordlessly, you lift your chin, spinning on your heel and making your way toward the door. Behind you, a surprised yelp slices through the air, followed quickly by a violent thud. When you peer back over your shoulder, Harry is brushing his palms off on the lapels of his suit, and Lukas is kneeling over the toilet, his chest heaving.

“Harry,” you say, calling him over. You hope that neither of the men can hear the slight quiver in your voice.

Harry approaches you, and you reach out for him. He offers you his uninjured arm; you link your elbow through the gap between his bicep and his torso.

You expect it to end there, but then Lukas mutters something unfamiliar under his breath. The words are nearly indiscernible, but you know for a fact that they’re definitely not English. Harry must hear them too, because he freezes in his tracks.

“Harry,” you say, tugging gently at his sleeve. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Say goodbye to your friends,” he replies bluntly, dodging your question. “We’re leaving. Right now.”

~*~

The journey back home is painfully quiet.

Harry says nothing until the car drags through the metal gates of your property and peels up the roundabout leading to your front door. Once your chauffeur cuts the engine, Harry turns to him, shaking his hand firmly and thanking him for the ride. You bid the man goodnight, catching his kind smile in the rear-view mirror.

He seems nice. You should probably learn his name.

But that can wait.

The effects of the alcohol in your system seem to have worn off. You attribute your sobriety to the fact that you were cornered and nearly attacked in a public bathroom not too long ago. You’re still a bit wobbly on your feet—not to mention the loud, persistent ringing in your ears—but your mind is clear. That’s all that matters.

Harry leads you inside, cupping his palm beneath your bent elbow and keeping you steady. Part of you longs for him to slide his hand closer and trail his fingers down your back until they’re tickling the base of your spine. But that would be unprofessional, you remind yourself, so you keep your mouth shut.

Walking into your room fails to bring you the familiar sense of comfort that it usually does. You swallow heavily, kicking off your heels (these ones aren’t embellished with any straps or buckles, thank God) and making your way over to your bed. As you approach your mattress, your fingers find their way to your back, grasping for the zipper of your dress that’s settled just above your shoulder blades.

You grit your teeth in frustration, stopping suddenly and casting a glance behind you. Harry is waiting at your door, standing rigidly with his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“Can you…?” Your question is hushed and incomplete, and you don’t wait for his reaction before turning back around. The sound of his low footsteps reaches your ears; your skin prickles in anticipation.

His fingers are gentle as they tug your zipper down. He’s close—closer than usual. You can feel his warm, laboured breaths puffing out against the nape of your neck.

Harry pauses when he drags the zipper past the middle of your back, exposing the clasp of your bra. His hands abandon your body, leaving you confused. Before you can question him, however, he’s fiddling with the little hooks on the undergarment. A moment later, the cups holding your cleavage in place loosen and slip lower on your chest. A soft, dazed gasp tumbles from your lips.

Harry then resumes his previous actions, unzipping your dress the rest of the way and stepping back once he’s finished. You face him, clutching the sagging fabric against your sternum to keep it from sliding down your torso.

“Thank you,” you murmur. Suddenly, the floor is a lot more interesting than the man standing before you.

Harry just grunts in response.

You hesitate, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. There’s a palpable tension hanging in the air; you feel like it might suffocate you if you don’t voice the question dancing on the tip of your tongue.

“What was it?” you ask quietly, refusing to take your eyes off of the ground. “In the washroom, before we left—what did he say? It wasn’t English—”

“French,” Harry cuts in. You pause, clamping your mouth shut and waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t add anything else.

“What did he say?” you repeat. Beneath the loose, shapeless material of your dress, your heart is beating a mile a minute.

“Nothing,” Harry utters after a long moment of silence. “At least, nothing that you need to worry abo—”

“You’re lying,” you seethe, and the abrupt wave of irritation that washes over you is enough to make your head snap up. Your gaze burns into his face, lips curled down into a vivid scowl.

“Harry—,” you say, reaching out with one hand and shoving helplessly at his chest. He doesn’t budge, of course—the realisation only makes you angrier. “Stop lying to me.”

He clenches his jaw, and strong, slender fingers circle around your wrist before you can pull away. You squawk in surprise, your brows knitting together at the suddenness of the contact. Harry’s green eyes blaze with an emotion that you can’t quite recognize, but even then, it still leaves you utterly breathless.

You watch, stupefied, as he slides his palm beneath yours, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to the hills of your knuckles. Your jaw slackens, but—for the first time in your life—you have no witty comeback, no sharp retort.

“Une putain gâtée, tout comme sa mère.”

The words are a low murmur. His mouth brushes against your skin as he speaks. You’re enthralled by his French accent, but the sour expression on his face tells you that he must’ve just said something rotten.

“A spoiled whore,” Harry translates—he looks almost ashamed, “just like her mother.”

Your hand slips from his grasp.

October 18, 2020

You’ve been in your room all day.

Harry hasn’t moved from his station outside, standing in front of your door with his arms folded over his chest. It’s been hours, and he hasn’t heard a peep from you. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s bored. You’re usually right next to him, talking his ear off and being your bossy, teasing self. He misses all of your little quips, not to mention the devilish smiles that you give him when you take a shot at pushing his buttons.

Now though, the silence is getting to him. He considers pulling his phone out and indulging in a trivial little game to pass the time, but then ultimately decides against it. The sun has fallen from the sky, and the moon has risen in its place—his shift is nearly over.

His cellphone chimes from inside his pocket. He fishes around for the device, eventually tugging it from the depths of his trousers. When he taps onto the screen, he finds a text from Lana, your personal chef.

Her dinner is ready. Do you want me to bring it up?

Harry purses his lips before typing his reply.

No, I’ll come down. Thank you.

A single smiling emoticon is her response.

After retrieving your plate from the kitchen and bidding Lana goodnight, Harry makes his way back upstairs. He stalls in front of your door for a few seconds before shaking off his uncertainties. His fist raps three times against the wood, and he waits expectantly for your answering call.

His shoulders deflate in relief when he hears a faint, yet familiar, “Come in.”

The room is dark, illuminated only by a small lamp on your nightstand. You’re lying on your bed, spine against the mattress and eyes trained on the ceiling. Your hair is fanned out against your pillow, and you haven’t changed out of your sleepwear (though it’s late now, Harry supposes, so there’s really no need). Cotton shorts sit low on your hips, but thankfully, your t-shirt is covering everything that needs to be concealed. When you turn your head toward the door, Harry notices that your eyes are rimmed with red.

You’ve been crying. The realisation makes his chest ache.

“Hi,” he says quietly, approaching your bed with cautious footsteps.

“Hi,” you croak. You sit up and clear your throat.

He holds out your plate. “Dinner is served.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“That’s true.” He tilts his head from side to side, acknowledging your words. “But you haven’t eaten all day.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” you mumble, though you take the dish from him with eager hands, confirming his hypothesis. “Mac n’ cheese?” you ask, peering up at him with wide eyes.

He nods. “Compliments of the chef. She said it was your ‘comfort food’, or something like that.”

You pick up the spoon resting on the side of your plate, dipping it into the pasta and scooping up a large bite. Flavour explodes across your tongue, and you hum in appreciation at the taste. “Lana’s the best.”

Harry doesn’t respond. When you look over in his direction, you find him standing awkwardly at the side of your bed, like he’s not quite sure where to go.

“Do you want to sit?” you ask through a mouthful of food. His lips twitch at the warbled quality of your voice.

“No, I—,” he starts, shaking his head. “I can leave you alone.”

You swallow heavily, running your tongue along the roof of your mouth. “Stay,” you tell him, averting your gaze. The softness of your tone makes him pause, but you just shrug. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

~*~

You finish the entire plate of macaroni in a matter of minutes. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen you scarf down food that quickly. You offered him a bite, but he turned it down, claiming that you needed it more than he did.

He was right, of course. But you would rather die than tell him as much.

You set the dish down onto your nightstand, snatching up the reusable water bottle on the corner of the little table. Harry watches, amused, as you take a large gulp of the contents inside. Once you’ve swallowed, you chance a glance over at where he’s sitting on the edge of your mattress. There’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“What?” you ask wryly.

He chuckles lightly. “Nothing.”

You smirk but decide to drop the subject.

Harry shifts, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “How are you feeling?”

You look away—you knew that he would try to breach the topic of last night, but the question is still a punch to the gut.

You shrug wordlessly. He clucks his tongue.

“That’s not an answer, love.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. A loose thread on your duvet catches your eye, and you twine it around your index finger. Another long moment of silence passes before you finally speak.

“I’m just…confused.”

“Confused?” Harry’s eyebrows knit together.

You nod.

“How so?”

A rushed, humourless laugh falls from your lips. “You’re joking, right?”

When Harry shakes his head, you sigh.

“All my life,” you say, a lump forming in your throat, “I’ve been kept in the dark. Do you know how embarrassing it is, as a little kid, to not have an answer when your friends ask what your parents do for a living?” You wrap your arms around your torso, hugging yourself tightly.

“I even used to joke about it at school,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “‘Yeah, guys, my mom’s secretly a drug dealer!’”

Harry doesn’t say anything. You take his reticence as a sign to continue.

“But then, as I got older, I realised that maybe I wasn’t that far off. She might not be in a fucking drug ring, but she’s still doing something illegal. There’s no way that we could afford to live like this, otherwise.” You gesture toward the glossy chandelier hanging from your ceiling.

“And then you came into the picture,” you say, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. “And that’s when I really started to panic. But I didn’t want to show anyone how I was feeling, obviously—so I kind of just kept it all bottled up.”

“Until now,” Harry murmurs, his expression unreadable.

You nod. “Until now.”

The material of your t-shirt is twisted up in your fists. You exhale heavily, releasing the fabric and smoothing it out with your palms. Several long seconds of tranquility ensue, until—

“Arms.”

Your gaze snaps over to Harry. “What?”

“Arms,” he repeats gruffly, staring directly at you. “She’s not dealing drugs. She’s dealing arms.”

You sit back against the headboard as his words sink in. Silence hangs in the air, growing thicker by the moment. Your mouth opens as you try to make sense of this newly-revealed information, but your lips only form around dying sounds and nonexistent sentences. Eventually, you settle for a simple, “Huh.”

And despite the trepidation of the situation, Harry laughs.

The sound brings a small smile to your face. It quickly slips away, however, when you remember something else.

“Last night, the guy at the club…,” you trail off, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t think what he said was just an expression.”

Harry’s eyes are solemn. “Neither do I.”

“He told me his name was Lukas,” you say, straightening up. “Has my mother ever mentioned him before?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know anything else,” he replies. Deep down, you recognize that he’s telling the truth. “She only shares things with me when it’s absolutely necessary. My job—first and foremost—is to protect you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, shifting closer to him. Harry stiffens briefly when you place your hand on his arm, but then relaxes again. The fabric of his suit is soft, pressed to perfection. “I—thank you for being honest with me. I feel better now that I know.”

He nods.

“And thank you for yesterday,” you add, swallowing heavily. “For keeping me safe.”

“Next time, I’m accompanying you to the bathroom,” he mutters. “End of discussion.”

You laugh. A tiny, barely-there smile creeps onto his lips. Your eyes fall to the yellow polish on his nails, and you hesitate.

“Harry,” you say. Anxiety unfurls in your stomach. “Can I ask you something?”

“’Course.” His voice is a low rumble. “What is it?”

“Last week,” you mumble, fidgeting with your fingers, “after you got shot—or grazed, whatever you want to call it—”

He freezes. You have a strong feeling that he knows where you’re going with this.

“You said—”

“I know what I said.”

I would take a bullet for you, no questions asked.

Your mouth goes dry. Harry won’t look you in the eye, but you refuse to let him shy away. You squeeze his forearm softly, hoping that the contact will prompt him to meet your gaze.

It does. When he peers up at you, the green of his irises sets off a series of echoes in your head.

And not just because it’s my job.

“Why did you?” you whisper, leaning toward him.

He blinks, embarrassed.

“You know why,” he grumbles, staring fixedly at your duvet. A loose strand of hair flops onto his temple as he shakes his head. “Don’t make me say it.”

Something shatters inside of you. Impulsively, you lurch forward, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

Harry’s face snaps toward you as you sit back. You’re greeted by wide eyes, foreign and unrecognizable, and seemingly unable to make out who you are. The small mountain of hope that had been growing in your chest crumbles into nothing, scattering like dust in the wind.

You clench your jaw, trying to keep yourself composed. He’s looking at you like you’re a stranger.

“Sorry,” you sputter. Panic washes over you, and your eyes prick with the telltale sign of tears. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry—”

Just as it had last week, Harry’s hand finds your face, squishing your cheeks together and cutting off your apologies. You gaze up at him as he leans in; he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, and it almost sounds like he’s berating you. “Why would you—?”

“I’m sorry,” you eek out. Water beads along your bottom lashes.

“I’ve been trying so hard,” he carries on, smoothly disregarding your regrets. “Trying to keep myself from—”

He breaks off, gritting his teeth and staring directly into your eyes. His next words are stern, finite.

“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore.”

His fingers release your cheeks and migrate to the back of your neck. He uses the leverage to pull you in so that you can meet him halfway, and then he’s kissing you. It takes a moment for everything to register in your brain, but soon thereafter, you’re melting into him and kissing him right back.

You grip the lapels of his suit between tight fists, tugging him closer as you pour every ounce of yourself into his embrace. Harry’s lips work fervently against your own; the palm on the back of your neck slips lower, settling at the base of your spine. His other hand comes up, splitting apart so that his thumb and middle finger find themselves on each side of your jaw. The grip is bruising, unforgiving—you whimper in delight.

“This is—,” Harry can barely get the words out. “—unprofessional.”

“It is,” you murmur, nodding fiercely.

“We shouldn’t,” he says.

“We shouldn’t,” you agree breathlessly.

But neither of you stop.

Harry lays you down on your bed, climbing on top of you whilst still doing his best to keep your lips attached. Your hands slip beneath his suit jacket, fingertips digging into his back over the white button-up covering his torso.

“You’re wearing too much,” you whine once the two of you break apart for air.

He chuckles, pushing himself up onto his knees. You watch, awestruck, as he fiddles with the buttons lining his abdomen, undoing each one swiftly before yanking the jacket from his shoulders. A shadow of pain passes over his features.

“Careful,” you say softly, referring to his injured arm.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he brings himself back down to where you are, wasting no time and dipping his tongue into your mouth.

“Mm,” he hums, smacking his lips together. “Mac n’ cheese.”

You giggle. “Guess you got a taste, after all.”

He nods, smirking. “In all honesty, though,” he murmurs, his lips smearing against the lower-half of your cheek, “I’d much rather get a taste of something else.”

He punctuates the innuendo with a gentle bite to your jaw, and you moan.

It doesn’t take long for his hand to travel south. Harry gives you a questioning look when his fingers reach the elastic waistband of your shorts.

“Can I?”

You nod.

He curses when the digits slip beneath the fabric, because you’re not wearing anything underneath. His palm scrapes over the triangle of trimmed hair at the apex of your thighs, and he nearly starts salivating right then and there. You whine impatiently, bucking your hips up to spur him along.

He chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “Gagging for it, aren’t you?”

A strangled squeak echoes in the back of your throat, but you say nothing.

“Answer me,” Harry growls, nipping softly at your earlobe. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it!” you choke out. You wrap your fingers around his forearm, guiding his hand lower so that he can feel just how wet you are. “Please—I want it.”

“So polite,” he murmurs, sponging his lips up to your temple. Your eyelids flutter shut when he begins to rub languid circles into your clit. “Where are those manners usually hiding, hm?”

“Harry—,” you sigh, feeling your face grow hot. You’ll never admit it, but his taunts stoke the fire building in the pit of your stomach. He laughs darkly, sliding his middle finger down your slit and prodding coyly at your entrance.

“You’re soaked, and I’ve barely done anything,” he mutters. His thumb stays positioned squarely on your clit as he lowers his head, pecking your lips delicately. “Want me inside?”

You nod, but he only tuts in disapproval.

“Words, love.”

“Yes!” you whine, pouting deeply. “I—I want you inside.”

He smiles.

You squirm when he slips his finger into you, adjusting to the intrusion. Harry probes around curiously, stroking along your walls until he brushes against a spot that has you crying out in thrilled surprise and squeezing your eyes shut. The patronizing laugh that falls from his mouth is hot and heavy against your warm cheeks.

“That’s it, yeah?” he asks. “That’s the spot?”

You breathe out a weak whimper of confirmation, and he snickers. When he peers up at you and finds your eyes closed, a small frown tugs at the edges of his lips.

“Look at me, love,” he orders, adding another finger into your heat. “I wanna see you.”

You shake your head and turn away, face hot with humiliation. It’s good, though—it’s so, so good.

“Look at me,” Harry repeats, “and I’ll let you cum.”

It’s an offer that you can’t refuse.

Slowly, your eyelids flutter open. He grins at you, pride sweeping over his features. You keep your gaze trained on him, even when he speeds up the movements on your clit, his thumb rubbing quick shapes against the sensitive nub. Your back arches, toes curling into the duvet as your orgasm approaches. Harry kisses your lips, humming happily at the contact.

“Cum,” he commands quietly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll ruin this cute little cunt.”

The filthy promise has you falling apart.

He holds you tightly as your high washes over you, absorbing all of your little moans and cooing words of encouragement into your mouth. You shake, staring up at the ceiling and watching as the chandelier above you splits into doubles. The glass crystals twinkle alluringly in the dim light of your room.

“So pretty,” Harry whispers. He pecks the clammy skin of your cheek, and you sigh.

“That was…,” you trail off, unable to find the right words.

“Good?” he supplies, pulling his hand out of your shorts.

You bark out a weak, incredulous laugh. “Way better than ‘good’. I don’t think I can feel my—”

Your confession falters when you turn to the side, just in time to witness Harry slide two of his fingers past his lips. He groans desperately at the tang that spreads over his tongue.

“Sweet,” he murmurs, almost like he’s in a trance. He nuzzles his nose against yours, dropping his hand onto the bed next to your head. “You’ll let me have a proper taste next time, yeah?”

Without a second thought, you nod rapidly. “Yeah.”

Harry grunts in surprise when you push him off of you. His back lands against your mattress with a dull thud, and he chuckles faintly when you sling your leg over his waist, straddling him.

“What’re you doing?” he asks playfully as you begin to unbutton his white shirt. You pepper kisses down his chest, worshipping each new inch of skin that becomes exposed. His hands subconsciously find their way into your hair, gathering the bulk of it into a makeshift ponytail. Your clit positively throbs, ignited by the dominant undertones of the action.

“You got me off,” you say. Though the accompanying shrug of your shoulders is nonchalant, your heart is thundering beneath your ribcage. “Seems only fair, don’t you think?”

You undo his belt and flick open the button of his black trousers. Harry groans as you palm him over his slacks, sinking into the plush pillows cradling his head.

“Right,” he breathes. “Only fair.”

His cock twitches when you dip your hand into his boxers, and God, he thinks to himself as he shudders, he loves you.

~*~

You awaken in the middle of the night to sounds of restless shuffling. Your room is dark, engulfed in black. Blinking the sleep from your vision, you push yourself up, peering around and waiting for your eyes to grow accustomed to the obscurity of your surroundings.

The spot next to you on your mattress is still a bit warm, covered with wrinkled sheets. When you finally zero in on the source of the noise, you find Harry sitting in the armchair a few feet away from your bed. He’s slouching, his head supported only by a closed fist. His white shirt is draped over his shoulders, completely unbuttoned. Gray boxers sit low on his hips, revealing a pair of ferns inked into the skin just above his pelvis.

Not even five hours ago, you trailed your tongue along those very same tattoos.

“Harry?” you say groggily, and he freezes. “What—what are you doing?”

His eyes are bright, despite the encompassing darkness.

“I—,” he hesitates. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

“Not unless you join me,” you retort. You slide your legs over the edge of the mattress so that you can face him properly. “What’s going on?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “We kind of just passed out, and…I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with me, like, sleeping in your bed. I didn’t wanna cross any lines.”

You balk.

“Harry…,” you start, fixing him with a drowsy yet bewildered look. “You’ve literally had your fingers inside of me, and now you’re worried about crossing a line?”

A quiet chuckle of accountability falls from his lips; the sound makes you smile. You reach out with one hand, wiggling your fingers at him and tilting your head toward the rumpled pillows waiting for you.

“Come back to bed.” Your request is soft.

The storm in his eyes dissipates, and he obeys.

You sigh as you settle back underneath the duvet, snuggling into his side and tossing a leg over his thighs. Harry wraps his good arm around you, craning his neck and pressing a tender kiss to your hair. Your fingers creep up his chest, toying with the dog tag resting between his pectorals.

“Is this going to change things between us?” you ask in a small voice.

A long moment of silence ensues.

At last, Harry replies:

“I don’t know.”

You were expecting that kind of answer, but it still stings. A big part of you wants him to say no, things won’t change. He’ll still have you, and you’ll still have him, and the two of you will still bicker back and forth like children fighting over a candy bar. He’ll still roll his eyes at your antics whilst nevertheless being willing to take a bullet for you. You’ll still tease him relentlessly to mask the way your heart races whenever he’s around (which, unfortunately, is all the time).

But the logical side of your brain knows that those fantasies are just fabrications of flimsy, wishful thinking. The two of you have crossed a line—just like he said—and you can’t go back.

As though he can sense your inner turmoil, Harry squeezes you closer into his side. “I was looking online…,” he begins, and you peer up at him with curious eyes.

He meets your gaze—his chin creases adorably—and continues. “And I saw these cool photos of someone’s nails; they painted little cherries on them.”

“That sounds cute,” you mumble.

“It was.” He nods. “And I was thinking that maybe, on Wednesday…would you want to try something like that?”

Warmth spiderwebs through your chest.

The two of you have crossed a line, and you can’t go back.

But you can move forward. And perhaps better things are waiting on the horizons up ahead.

“It might not turn out like the pictures,” you warn lightly. “I’ve never really done nail art before.”

“That’s alright,” Harry says, brushing your hair out of your face. “I just thought it’d be fun to give it a go.”

You lean up, slotting your lips against his. Harry cups your cheek, keeping you close. When the two of you finally break apart, you smile, running your thumb lovingly over the edge of his jaw.

“Remind me to pick up the tools tomorrow after class.”

~*~

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#harry writing #guardrry #making this my pinned post because i love her and she's one of my greatest creations ok 🥺🥺#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #i'd love to know what u think! reblogs + feedback mean the world to me

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