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eroselless · 21 days

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I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME

Summary: You and Lando need to talk after what transpired on the car ride to the hotel. What will you both decide? [2.5k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 1 - LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, unprotected sex, oral, missionary

Note: Thank you all so much for the love, support and patience! I wanted it to be spicy but also a little soft, I hope it comes off that way. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I hope it's alright that I tagged everyone who commented on part 1! Happy reading, love you all!

The tension in the air is palpable. It’s fog clinging to the morning air, waiting to dissipate. It’s a sink threatening to overflow, every passing moment teetering closer to the edge of chaos. It’s a champagne bottle, waiting for just the right push to pop. Lando stands with his back to the hotel door as you stand in front of your bed, fidgeting with your fingers. The silence in the elevator and the walk to the room is almost frightening. The adrenaline from the car ride had slowly faded as you stood, frozen in place. Your palms feel sweaty, your heart pounding in your chest. You both stand in the limbo of uncertainty’s clutch.

“What if we just –”

“We can pret –”

Your words collide in the air, an awkward and strained laugh escaping the both of you. Doubt begins to gnaw at your mind, maybe he’s regretting it? You wonder. Maybe he was in need of some release and you happened to give it to him.

“If you want,” you begin tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. “We can pretend this never happened.”

Lando takes in a sharp breath, nodding. He shifts from foot to foot, bottom lip curled between his teeth as he nervously bites into it. He blinks, eyes watering. His chest begins to tighten up and he feels like he could break down then and there. Maybe in the spur of the moment, his lapse of judgment was the final straw that broke the camel's back and you’re eager to forget about the eventful ride over.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sitting down on his bed. His voice is quiet, barely audible as he twists his fingers in his hands. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes and stares down at your shoes.

A heavy silence envelops the room, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, anticipation building in the man who sits before you. Blinking the tears that had snuck into your eyes, you shake your head. Your chest feels heavy as you answer him.

“No.”

The single word cuts through the air like a knife and hands there for a second. Time stands still for a moment as Lando’s head whips up to look at you. Time crashes down over you as he collides with you.

You weren’t quite sure of what you expected from your first kiss with Lando yet as his lips brushed with yours you couldn’t help but be struck by how perfect his lips felt on yours. His hands are cradling your cheeks, fingers pressing lightly into your skin as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like fine porcelain. There is a delicate urgency in how his lips dance over yours. Years upon years of longing rising to the surface of your skin. His tongue slips past your lips, he can taste the remnants of the wine from earlier, a mixture of desire and indulgence.

His hands move with a purpose, one gently placed at the joint of your jaw, a possessive gesture that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. The other rests firmly on the small of your back, pushing you closer with a quiet promise of ecstasy to come. He nudges your chin up with his hand, moving slowly and carefully.

He pulls away, eyes droopy and half-lidded with desire. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You’re both heaving as you stand in the middle of the room, taking a moment to admire one another. The youthfulness and beauty of his face are so much more evident up close. It's nothing short of captivating. You had always thought he was handsome but now you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You can count the freckles scattered on his sun-kissed skin, the speckles of colour in his eyes are like shards of glass and his long lashes frame them beautifully.

His hands fall from your face, sliding down and behind your shoulders. “Turn around,” he says. You comply, moving to face the other way. His hands move over the expanse of your back and you get a flashback to the moment you sat in his lap, just under 15 minutes ago. His breath is fanning on your back, a familiar chill surging through your body again.

His fingers land on the zipper of your dress, tugging on it as he asks for your permission to take it off. You nod, collecting your hair to one side. He pulls the zip down, fingers dragging lightly over the increasingly exposed skin. He presses his mouth tenderly to your spine, pulling a shaky breath from your lips. He pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, sending the fabric to the floor. It leaves you standing in your underwear, having foregone a bra. You turn around to face him, eyes scanning his face once again.

His lips find their way to your jaw, nipping lightly at it. You push his blazer from his shoulders, moving to unbutton his crisp white shirt.

He shoves you lightly but with enough force to send you falling back onto the bed. He can’t help but admire you as you lay there. Your hair is out in a halo around your head and you're propping yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide as you gaze up at him.

He pulls his trousers off and you can see the shape of his cock through his boxers. Lowering himself on top of you, he litters kisses over your chest, lips coming to wrap around a pebbled nipple. You arch your back slightly at the feeling of his lips over the sensitive bud. Your hand goes to his hair, threading through it as he pushes his face further into the plushness of your tit. His other hand is snaking down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he moves down, sitting back on his knees. He pulls a leg up over his shoulder, beginning to trail kisses from your ankle to your knee. Your skin is soft and warm, goosebumps starting to bloom over it.

You’re nervous as he makes his way up your thigh, teeth teasingly dipping into the soft skin. You let out a gasp as he does so, moving his lips to your other leg. In an instant, he’s back at the top of your leg, at the junction where they meet. He kisses the damp fabric of your underwear, eyes peering up at you.

“Can I take these off?” He asks innocently. You hesitate, heart threatening to pop out of your chest. You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His fingers hook around your underwear, pulling them down swiftly. Your knees come together on instinct.

He lets out a small chuckle, moving onto the floor in front of the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the crook of your knees, pressing a kiss to each one.

“I want a taste.” He hums, only causing your heart to beat faster. His hands move up to take hold of your hips, pressing his cheek to your knees as if to ask are you ready? He waits until you’ve given him a small yet decisive yes before gently pulling your legs open. He goes straight to your sex, pressing his lips to your folds before spreading them open, making a v with his fingers. He teases you, letting out a single soft puff. His tongue darts out, dragging over the sensitive flesh but not over the part where you need him most. This causes your hips to buck up, aching for more of his touch. He continues, now plunging his tongue inside you.

“Fuck –” you moan out, body beginning to tremble with need as he shoves his face even closer. Your fingers pull harshly at his hair as he flicks his tongue expertly at your hole, his groan sending vibrations through your body. His fingers grip tight at your hips, grounding you in place. He sends a red-hot feeling through you as he fucks the muscle into you steadily. It pokes into a spongy, sensitive spot within you. He pulls away, blowing gently at the wet skin.

“God, baby. You taste so fucking good.”

He slips a finger in, thumb moving in careful circles over your clit, eliciting more moans from you. A smile is playing on his lips, as you feel yourself teetering towards the edge, a coil tightening in your gut. You cry out, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Your hips are bucking and your legs try to close around his head.

He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you, easing you down from your orgasm. Your chest heaves and you shake breathlessly. He pulls away, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes sparkle with lust as he presses his lips one more time to the skin of your thigh. It’s a look you’d only imagined in your mind.

He stands over you, admiring how you look with your cheeks flushed and a light layer of sweat on your skin. Your chest is rising up and down quickly as you come down from your high. You’re staring up at him, eyes hazy and lips parted. You look ethereal, a piece of art hanging in a museum, the image of perfection.

Regaining your breath, your hands work on Lando’s boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free. It taps lightly at his stomach, a bead of pre-cum on the red angry tip. You wrap a hand around it, thumb going to run over the crease of the head. Lando hisses and shakes his head at you begin to jerk your hand. His voice is strained as he tells you no.

“Not tonight,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Just need to be inside you.”

You nod, moving up the bed, into its centre. He crawls over you, showering your body with kisses as he does so. A kiss right over your pubic bone, one on your ribcage and the last one over the corner of your mouth.

He stares into your eyes as he pushes in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to keep him quiet. He fills you in a single movement, one powerful thrust. Your breath hitches as he does so, lips forming a tight o. You can feel his cock hit you just at the right spot, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. The squeeze of your cunt around his cock was better than Lando could have imagined.

He’s pushing your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts a slow grind. He rolls into you, pushing deeper and deeper as he goes. He feels so good, it’s almost unbearable. You’re completely at his mercy, his touch spreading fires in you, wherever it goes.

You're writhing beneath him as he kisses you. His tongue is darting into your mouth, stealing your breath away.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he says over the sound of himself sliding in and out of you with ease. The sound is slick and wet, it’s filthy yet it only makes you fall deeper into pleasure’s embrace. Your body molds perfectly into him and you find yourself wondering how you’d never noticed that before. All those times when he held you, when you held him. There were so many signs and you were both oblivious to them.

He pushes down on your lower tummy and it presses something deeper within you. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands find purchase on Lando’s shoulder, pulling him down so you’re almost chest to chest.

“You’re doing so good for me” he mumbles, lips against the shell of your ear. You clench around him, the words only spurring you on. He continues to fuck you into the mattress, stroking your walls just right.

“Lan, I –” you begin to say. The buildup is getting too much as you feel yourself swing closer to your climax. Lando can feel it too. The spasming of your body, the slight arch of your back. The air is knocked out of your chest as the moment hits, pleasure crashing over you. His name falls from your lips like a mantra and he only pushes faster. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you now. He thrusts into you one last time before he tips over the edge, losing himself then and there.

You feel him let out a gasp as he collapses over you in a sweaty mess. His body is heavy laying on top of yours but it isn’t uncomfortable. His skin is sticky and his breath fans over your neck. You’re both breathing heavily as the energy in the room begins to diminish. Your hand goes to thread through his unruly curls as he peppers light kisses to the column of your throat.

He gets up after a few minutes, telling you to sit still as he does. He returns with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess you’ve made together. He tosses it away and crawls back towards you, pulling the cover over the top of your bodies.

He stills against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mind only filled with thoughts of you. He can only really think of how flawlessly you fit together. Or the feeling of how delicious you feel pressed up against him.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make a move,” he says, peering up at you. You smile, shaking your head. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.”

You both carry on there for a second, his cheek now pressed to your chest. His eyes have begun to flutter close as the gentle sound of your breathing slowly lulls him to sleep. His fingers are softly tracing circles on your ribcage where he holds you. There are no words exchanged between the two of you but there’s so much said in the silence as you cling to each other.

“Lan..” you whisper, voice soft. He hummed in response, squeezing you. You nibbled your lip nervously as the words waited in your mouth.

“I love you.” his fingers stop in their tracks. He let out a gentle, barely audible chuckle. You’re unsure of what his reaction is. He rises to his elbows and bounces slightly on the mattress, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

“Say it again,” he whispers, voice husky. His fingers are now prodding at your side and you let out bouts of laughter as he does.

“I love you.” he nips at the soft skin of your neck, evoking a laugh out of you. His energy seems renewed as his lips continue their dance over your skin and he gradually makes his way up to your face.

“I love you too,” he says, his smile wide, pulling you on top of him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

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#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris

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ifancyharry · 8 months

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Routine - Bad Habit (3)

in which YN spends the night - officially - for the first time, but Harry's daughter isn't really happy about that; fluff; angst; smut; dad!harry

wc: 5.9k

can be read as a stand alone, but if you want to understand more read Bad Habit (1) and (2)

“Hi.” Harry greets her as soon as he opens the door, smiling the same smile YN has been in love with since she was 20 years old.

“Hi.” She repeats his word as a form of greeting, and despite the shortness of it, nothing needs to be added, because the excitement they both transpire can be felt in the air between them.

This would be the first time YN officially spent the night. Of course, she’d stayed over many times in the two months they had been dating, but never officially. She’d always leave before Aidi could find her tangled in Harry’s sheets, and it had been fine at first. She hated waking up early, but she’d do whatever she could to reassure Aidi’s well being.

YN doesn’t know why all of a sudden Harry was eager to invite her over. He told her he felt ready, and she had felt excited despite feeling the fear of how his daughter would react.

Harry told her that he wouldn’t tell her right away, YN would just stay over and they’d see from there how it went. Of course, his nonchalance hadn’t gone unnoticed by YN, that on the other hand felt nervous about it all and would’ve much rather he told Aidi she would at least spend the night. But, she figured, she wasn’t a parent, and she couldn’t possibly know what was best for Aidi, so she had agreed to follow his plan with enthusiasm.

“Everything okay?” He asks when he sees she hasn’t moved from her spot.

“Just a little bit nervous” she shrugs, tightening the grip around the handle of her duffle bag.

“I see I still have tha’ effect on yah?” He chuckles, opening his lips in a teasing smirk.

“Shut up! ‘S not because of you”

“I know” he says, and his eyes soften at the sight of the girl in front of him, all shy and anxious about something that he thinks is so natural. “‘M just teasing. Everything’s gonna be okay”

She sighs at his words and takes a step closer to him, “ugh, I know… just want it to be perfect”

“‘S already perfect with you here” he smiles, grabbing her upper arm and tugging her closer to him. He circles her back with his arm and squeezes her against his chest, holding her tight in a soothing embrace.

“You’re perfect” she sighs once again, inhaling the pleasing scent of his fabric softener lingering on his hoodie.

YN still can’t believe he is hers.

“C’mon let’s go inside, yeah?”

“Mmhmm” she nods against the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Once Harry closes the front door behind him, he takes YN’s duffle bag from her hands and tells her to follow him upstairs.

“Where’s Aidi?” She asks.

“In her room”

“Is she… does she know I’m here?”

She watches as he nods his head, and she wonders for a moment if there’s something wrong going on. Is Aidi upset? Is it too soon?

“Harry…” she whispers once they enter his room, “maybe it’s too soon. We should have-“

“YN.” He interrupts her, a serious look adorning his gentle features, “I told you already everything is fine.”

“Okay” she nods doubtfully, not really convinced by his words.

He tosses her bag on his bed and after he turns around to face her. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it to reassure her. He knows how she is. How much she worries, but that’s the very same reason why he’s so sure about this. He knows she cares about Aidi very much, and he thinks she’ll be good for his daughter, even if it takes her some time getting used to having another person around more.

YN follows Harry out of his room, and, once they reach Aidi’s door, she watches as he gently knocks on it.

“Aidi?” He asks, opening the door and peeking his head inside. “Hi bug” he says softly, and YN feels herself melt at the interaction. He’s so gentle, so sweet. He makes her feel warm, like the first spring sun shining on her skin after a cold winter.

He opens the door wider and YN spots Aidi laying on her bed, her ballerina bunny squeezed under her chin. She lights up as soon as she sees her dad, and she nods timidly when Harry asks her if she was asleep.

“I was really tired, daddy” she mumbles, knuckling at her eyes sleepily.

“Tha’s okay” he reassures. “‘S almost time to eat dinner”

YN watches from the door jamb, unsure on what to do. She doesn’t want to interfere in their moment, still feeling a bit unease at the situation.

“Do you want to say hi to YN?” Harry asks when Aidi gets up from the bed.

She shakes her head no. “I already said at school”.

YN bites hard on her bottom lip. She knew it would be hard.

Harry furrows his brows and looks at his daughter, confused by her behavior. She loves YN. She always talks about how nice she is and how she’s so happy she’s his friend so he doesn’t really know where this is coming from. He figures she’s just grumpy from being woken up.

YN, on the other hand, thinks this is going to be harder than they thought.

…

It’s a little bit later in the evening, and despite the abrupt start, things seem calmer now. Aidi had played with her dolls while she watched cartoons on the tv, and YN had helped Harry with setting the table for dinner.

She thinks it’s nice. Settling into a routine and sharing it with them. She’s always been kind of alone, and she’s always thought of herself as more of a loner, but maybe she’s been wrong all along and this is where she was actually destined to be.

“Aidi?” Harry calls from inside the kitchen.

YN smiles fondly once she sees Aidi walking towards them with a pep in her step, she seems fine, until Harry asks her what she wants to eat, because nothing seems of her liking.

“Noooo daddy I don’ like that!” she protests when Harry shows her the package of pasta he intended on cooking.

“But you’ve always liked it! You looove when granny makes it for yah!”

“Yeah” she gives him a firm nod, “but yeh’re not granny”

YN has to refrain herself from laughing at them. She wonders if she’s like this everyday or she’s putting on a show just because she’s there.

“Uggh fine, then. How about…” he looks through the cupboard to see what other thing he could cook, he picks up another package of pasta, shaped like butterflies this time, and holds it in front of her, but Aidi shakes her head disgusted once again.

He moves toward the fridge then, taking out some chicken and showing it to her, but “noooo” she protests.

“Wha’s gotten into yah!” He sighs discouraged.

“I’m sorry” he mouths to YN, to which she replies with a knowing smile.

Harry opens the door to the freezer and YN spots a package of chicken nuggets inside, and she points to them trying to hide her gesture from Aidi, not sure whether she could eat that kind of food.

“She usually doesn’t like them” he shrugs, but when he takes out the package to show it to her, Aidi starts jumping excitedly in her place, “yes! Yes! Daddy want them, pleaseee”.

“But-“ he’s about to protest, but he feels it’s actually pointless to argue with a child, so he sighs and: “fine!”

“Make them crispyyy please daddy” she says seriously, but when YN erupts in an uncontrolled laughter, Aidi starts giggling too.

Harry joins in on their laughter, but his is more of a disbelieving one, amazed by his daughter’s behavior.

Once dinner is ready, Harry, YN and Aidi all sit at the small table in the living room.

Harry fills his and YN’s glasses with the most prestigious red wine he had, and he serves first Aidi (the chicken nuggets with looots of ketchup), then YN (the special pasta his mother taught him to make and that’s the only fancy thing he knows how to make — but, honestly, YN was fine with everything. Even if it meant eating dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets).

The air around them is quiet, there’s a comfortable silence between them, and YN feels happy. Like she belongs. She looks at Aidi tenderly when she hears the quiet humming of what she recognizes is a cartoon’s theme song, and she watches as the little girl dips her nugget in what seems to be way too much ketchup for only a small piece, and when YN raises her glance from Aidi’s plate, she realizes Harry is looking at her with one of the softest looks on his face she’s ever seen. He smiles sweetly at her, but, as opposed to how he used to always avert his gaze when they were still in college — embarrassed she’d catch on the crush he’d always had on her, he doesn’t look away.

‘What?’ She mouths, worried she might have something on her face or that he wants to tell her something without his daughter hearing, but he just shakes his head.

‘Pretty’ he mouths back, and his eyes do that thing YN loves, they twinkle like the brightest of the lights, the warmest shade of green she’s ever seen, like the grass on a chilly spring day, the feeling of seeing a bit of color after months of whiteness.

She bushes and looks down at her plate, still not used to his cheeky compliments.

After dinner, Harry takes out of the fridge the ice cream YN had brought, and when he opens it, he smiles fondly when he realizes she picked Aidi’s favorite flavors: chocolate and strawberry. In the same bag, there’s another tub of ice cream, much smaller, and when he opens it, to his surprise, he sees his favorite flavor: mint chocolate chip.

He knows now she remembers their ice cream runs after a long day of studying, but he’s genuinely surprised she would after so many years, and he thinks it feels nice. It’s nice having someone take care of you, even if it only means picking up your and your daughter’s favorite flavors of ice cream.

He comes back in the living room with the ice cream and three small bowls, and he places them on the table.

“Look what YN got you!” He smiles excitedly, hoping to spark some excitement in his daughter, since she’d been pretty quiet all throughout dinner.

“Ice cream!” She lights up, but when Harry shows her the flavors, she makes a disgusted face and pushes the tub out of her face.

“I don’t like chocolate”

YN, that had watched the encounter proudly, feels her face fall. She thoroughly remembers Aidi loves chocolate ice cream. She’d told her many times in class, and it was what she had asked that day Harry forgot to pick her up and YN had brought her to eat ice cream to distract her. Maybe she remembers wrong? She feels herself panic inside, because how could she have gotten it wrong! She’d been so careful while picking.

“But ’s your favorite!” Harry stresses, his brows furrowing on his forehead.

YN feels a little bit relieved at his words. At least she hadn’t gotten it wrong.

“No, it’s not” she shakes her head, grimacing.

“I’m so sorry, YN. I don’t know wha’s gotten into her” he apologizes, sitting back down in his chair, his shoulder sagging, he feels undefeated.

There’s no way Aidi doesn’t like chocolate ice cream, because he remembers she ate it two days before at his sister’s house, but he chooses not to tell YN that to not aggravate the situation more. He knows this is silly, because it’s just ice cream, but it’s then he realizes maybe everything isn’t okay and Aidi isn’t comfortable with having YN here.

He’s unsure on what to do, feeling conflicted about the situation.

He knows he should put his daughter’s feelings before his, but he also cares about YN, and he doesn’t want to push her away.

“Harry” he hears YN interrupt his train of thoughts, “maybe I remembered wrong. It’s no problem at all! Do you like mint chip?” She asks Aidi the last part, and her voice is soft.

Aidi nods, “’s daddy’s favorite”

YN smiles at her and then throws a quick glance at Harry, “really? You both have great taste then! You share that with your daddy and I’ll eat the other one, okay?”

“Okay” Aidi nods once again and leans forward on the table to pick up the tub of ice cream. She shows it to Harry to signal she wants it in the bowl, and he consents quietly.

Harry — too — realizes this is going to be harder than he thought.

…

Harry feels bad. Tonight hasn’t been what he thought, at all.

He had planned in his mind all the nice and fun things he wanted to do with both YN and Aidi, and maybe, he realizes just now, he had been wrong to assume Aidi wanted to do that. He understands it’s always been them. Since she was born, it’s always been the two of them, tucked away safely in the walls of their home, and Harry understands how she could feel now that YN is here as well.

He just feels bad, because he’d like to do some of those things with YN too. He’d like to eat breakfast with them, he’d like to watch a movie and cuddle them both under his arms, he’d like to kiss both of them goodnight, he’d like to snuggle with them in his bed until it’s inevitably time to get up. But how can he? Aidi is little, and she doesn’t understand what it means to share.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He hears YN gently ask, and he shifts his gaze from the tv to her.

Aidi wanted to watch the new Little Mermaid movie (her favorite of the week), and she had demanded her daddy watched too. YN hadn’t minded, and she sat contently next to them, but only half an hour into the movie, Aidi had fallen asleep against Harry’s chest, his shirt crumbled between her little fingers as she held onto him, almost scared he’d leave her to sleep alone.

Harry leans his head on the backrest of the couch, he then turns it and looks at YN fondly. She’s so pretty now, her hair frame her face perfectly, and the glasses on her nose make her face look softer.

He shakes his head, wary of what she could say if he voiced his thoughts aloud, and when he sees her brows close in a furrow, he averts his gaze, his face facing the ceiling as he closes his eyes.

“Hey” she whispers, careful not to wake Aidi sleeping in his lap. When she realizes he isn’t opening his eyes, she raises her arm and rests it next to his face on the back of the couch. With delicate fingers she caresses the tender skin of his neck, below his ear, where she hears his pulse quicken.

“Harry, hey” she repeats, hoping to gain his attention, but she may have been a little too loud, because Aidi stirs in his lap and opens her eyes slowly.

“Hi, bug” he smiles down at her, his expression changing as soon as she woke up. “Let’s get yah to bed, yeah?”

He stands up from the couch and props Aidi on his hip, caressing her back gently to lull her back to sleep.

She falls asleep on his shoulder almost immediately, and YN raises on her feet quickly, placing a gentle and quiet kiss on her hair. Harry smiles at her and informs her he’d be putting Aidi to bed in her room.

YN turns off the tv and picks up the throw blanket to fold it, when she’s done she puts it on the couch and makes her way upstairs towards Harry’s room.

She sits on his bed and she waits for him, her heart beating fast against her ribcage. She wonders if she should leave. Is that what Harry is so scared to tell her? She’s sure he realized too that Aidi wasn’t comfortable with YN staying over.

She hears the door close quietly and she looks up immediately. She can feel her heart in her throat, convinced he wants to send her away.

Maybe it’s too soon.

Maybe he doesn’t want a relationship with someone his daughter doesn’t like.

Whatever the reason will be, she’s sure this will be their final conversation.

“Hi” he interrupts her train of thoughts.

“Hi”.

He walks towards her and stops in front of her, sitting between her open legs.

“Harry -“ she starts saying, but he interrupts her quickly: “Baby, I’m so sorry”.

“What?” she asks confused, “why are you saying sorry?”

“I thought… today was supposed to be different” he sighs. He raises both of his hands and cradles her face in his palms, caressing the skin of her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry” he repeats, “I wanted to make a nice dinner and maybe go for a walk, and… I don’t know, maybe watch a movie but…”

“But we did!” YN chimes in, bringing her hands up to squeeze his wrists, “it was perfect”

“I know but… Aidi…” he says, shaking his head, panic lacing his voice.

“You don’t think she’s happy…”

“It’s not that… I’m just scared. I didn’t think it would be this difficult” he sighs. He feels guilty, and if there was any way he could have this conversation with her without hurting her, he would. But YN has also taught him to communicate his feelings, and he couldn’t just not tell her what was going on in his mind, how scared he is for his daughter and to cause her pain.

“Oh Harry” she shakes her head against his hands, biting down on her bottom lip so hard she thinks she can taste the blood. “She’s just little, and not used to… all of this. I think you should talk to her.”

“I don’t know how” he looks at her pleadingly.

“Just say how you feel. Start from there. She’s the most wonderful kid I know, she will understand.”

It’s when she says things like these that Harry remembers why he is so sure about YN. She loves him, and perhaps she loves his daughter more than she loves him. Her presence is crucial in both of their lives, and Aidi needs to know her. She needs to be around her, because Harry thinks there’s a part of how YN loves that only she could teach, and he wants Aidi to learn, he wants her to see her dad happy, and he wants her to understand that love is really all that matters.

He gives her a small smile, not big enough to show the dimples YN really loves, but enough for her heart to tighten in her chest.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” She whispers, before tilting her head upwards and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He dips his head forward and deepens the kiss, sighing into her mouth.

Despite the heavy weight on his chest, he’s really happy she’s here.

Her lips are soft against his, and he wants to drink her in, drown in her taste, like the sweetest summer fruit.

Her hands make their way up his arms, her fingers dipping into the cotton of his shirt, and once she reaches his shoulders, she pushes him down against her.

They both fall on the bed, and with the way she’s kissing him, YN hopes she can reassure him. She hopes he understands she’s here now, and he doesn’t have to do it alone. His tongue caresses hers, and his hands are everywhere on her body, holding onto her skin desperately.

He settles between her legs, and pushes his hips forward when she bites his bottom lip, his erection pushing hard against her center where she needs him the most.

“Harry” she says as soon as he moves his head to kiss down her neck, “we shouldn’t. You’re upset” she breathes.

“Mmh” he whimpers against the skin of her neck, “please” he begs, “i need you. I need you so much.”

She tugs at his hear and he raises his head from her neck, the sight of him almost making YN cum on the spot.

As opposed to how he always is in bed, dark and dominant, he looks soft and pleading, his eyes big and veiled with lust, his lips wet with spit and a particular shade of red mixed with purple.

“You’re the only one that can make me feel better” he whispers looking directly into her eyes.

“Okay” she nods, “okay”.

Harry buries his head back onto her neck and kisses the skin there gently.

His hands travel down to her jeans and he quickly unbuttons them, tugging them down her legs and then throwing them on the floor.

His movements are frantic and eager, but everything about him is soft, from the way his hands caress the skin of her stomach to the way his fingers shift her panties to the side to expose her. He dips his thumb between her folds, rolling tight circles on her clit a couple times. She sighs heavily, and she has to refrain herself from moaning.

When he sees that she’s wet enough, he holds his weight with one arm and with the other he tugs his own jeans down, followed by his boxers right after.

When his cock is finally freed from its restraint, he doesn’t waste a second before he slides it between her folds, coating it with her juices. She brings a hand to his cheek and tilts his head up so he can look into her eyes when he slips inside of her.

“Oh” she whimpers, and he’s quick to swallow her sounds with his own mouth, sighing into her while his hips drill into her.

She feels warm against him, and he finally feels the comfort he’d been looking for.

With gentle fingers he raises the fabric of her t-shirt and exposes more of her skin, his hand resting against her ribcage, under her side boob. With his thumb he pushes her bra up and finally frees her tits, his head dipping down to kiss all over the new exposed skin.

He takes her right nipple into his mouth and sucks on it lightly, soothing it right after with his tongue.

“Please” she moans quietly, arching her back and pushing her tits into is mouth.

“Shh, baby” he giggles, leaving her boobs and going back to her mouth, “fuck” he whispers against her lips, “gonna make me cum already”

She clenches around him, flattered that she could make him reach his high so quickly.

“Baby I need you to cum” he says, and he brings a hand down between them, drawing tight circles on her clit. He knows she’s close by the way her walls clench around him, but he needs her to come before him, so he brings his mouth back on her nipple, the left one this time, and bites on it gently.

With the stimulation on her clit and now on her nipple, YN knows it’s going to take her seconds to cum, and she brings a hand to clasp against her mouth when he gives a particularly harsh thrust that makes her come on the spot. She sees stars and all her body trembles as Harry keeps moving his hips with the pace that made her cum, never taking his hand off her clit.

He parts from her nipple and when he sees her face beginning to contort in discomfort, he pulls his cock put of her and with a few tugs he comes against her stomach, his sticky liquid coming in spurts out of his slit.

“Fuck” he groans, giving another few thrusts against his hand.

When he’s done, he falls on the bed next to her, lifting his arm so she can squeezing in against his side.

She rests her head on his chest, and she can hear his heart beating hard against his chest. She almost falls asleep right there, lulled by the sound of his heart beating loud for her, but: “thank you. I love you”, he whispers against her hair delivering a soft kiss against her hairline.

She chuckles against the skin of his chest, placing a kiss there “i love you too”.

…

“I got more of that cream yeh like… the one made with wine”

They’re both still in their towel, the bathroom foggy from the steam of the hot water.

“Harry!!! Thank you!” She exclaims, “you didn’t have to” she beams at him, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as he shows the cream to her.

“I wanted to” he smiles, leaning down to kiss the side of her head.

This is what he has longed for all his life, always feeling like there was something missing from him. The comfortableness of sharing his routine with the person he loves the most.

They stand side by side in front of the sink, their naked shoulders touching, and YN massages the cream onto her skin while Harry brushes his teeth.

When he’s done, YN hands him the cream and “want?”

He nods, and, “you put it for me” he says, closing his eyes immediately and bringing his hand up to swat away a couple of curls from his forehead.

YN grins widely and she sprinkles a little bit of cream on the palm of her fingers. She rubs them together to warm the cream, and then she raises on her tips to massage it onto Harry’s face.

She’s delicate in doing so, rubbing his cheeks gently and then under his eyes, his nose and all the way down to his chin. He looks serious but relaxed at the same time, and YN rubs at his temples a little to ease what could be left of the tension he felt before.

He sighs dreamily and once she’s done, she rubs the remaining cream on his neck, and then she places a kiss on his lips, “all done”.

“Thank you baby” he smiles, leaning down to give her another kiss. And another. And another, until she’s giggling against his lips.

“Shh” he shushes her, placing another soft kiss against her lips.

“I’m so tired” YN says, knuckling at her eyes.

“Yeah… let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Once they reach his room, they both slip into their pajamas and hurry to get to bed, the tiredness of the day catching up to the both of them.

YN asks what side of the bed Harry sleeps on (the one near the door) and YN gets in beside him. She can smell the fabric softener of his cleaned sheets (that Harry had changed before they got in the shower), and she burrows herself more into the comforter, hiding her face under it.

“Where are yah!” He whispers, and when he hears her giggle, he raises the comforter over his head and joins her under the covers.

“Hi” he says once he’s face to face with her, the mint scent of his toothpaste tickling her nose. She looks extremely soft, her skin dewy from the cream and her eyes droopy with sleep.

“Hi” she repeats, moving closer to him. She rests her head on the palm of her hand, and she looks up at him dreamily. Harry feels a little claustrophobic from the lack of oxygen and the heaviness of the comforter over their heads, but he has to admit it’s comforting, being with her like this. Close.

“Thank you for giving me this” she whispers, shifting her gaze form one of his eyes to the other.

She hopes he understands what she means, because YN doesn’t mean the cream, the dinner, or the sex. She means a family. A routine. Something to look forward to at the end of the day when she feels exhausted. She knows now as long as she has Harry and Aidi she will never feel alone, and she will never have to question herself, how she did all those years ago in college when she would wonder what was wrong with her that made her so unlovable.

…

The next morning, Harry wakes up at around seven o’clock, too early for a Saturday morning, and he casts a glare towards YN that is sleeping soundly next to him.

When he realizes what time it is by looking at his phone, he understands something is missing. Aidi isn’t awake.

She usually wakes him up at around half past six by jumping on his bed, and then falls asleep almost immediately on his chest, clutching her stuffed bunny protectively to her side.

The possibility that she’s still asleep is very slim, and he decides to check on her, not without leaving a kiss on YN’s head before.

When he reaches Aidi’s room, he opens the door and frowns sadly at his daughter. She’s awake, lying on her bed still under the covers, talking quietly with her stuffed bunny.

“Hi bug” he whispers, “g’morning!”

“Hi” she says in a small voice, but she doesn’t raise her gaze to look at him. He knows she’s still upset.

“Why didn’t y’come wake me up?”

When she shrugs, he walks towards her bed, and with his hand he gestures for her to scooch over a little so he can lay down next to her.

He lays his head on her pillow and looks at her. She’s still sleepy, her eyes laced with sleep and her hair ruffled and curly. Her pajama top has shifted a little to expose the soft skin of her tummy, and Harry adjusts it to cover her.

“Cinna” Harry addresses her stuffed bunny once he realizes Aidi doesn’t want to talk to him yet, “why’s Aidi sad?”

Aidi pets the bunny’s ears and keeps her eyes forward, not looking at her dad.

“Is it because YN is here?” He asks gently, whispering as if it was a secret between them.

Aidi wraps her small fingers around the bunny’s neck and makes it nod its head. Harry smiles sadly at her, his chest aching at the sight of his daughter hurting, and him being the cause of that pain.

His sudden reaction is to just reassure her and he wonders if YN would understand if he told her to wait a little before coming over again, but then he remembers what she told him: that Aidi is smart and she will understand if he talks about his feelings. He figures it’s worth a try.

So, “Come here, bug” he says, stretching out his arm so she can rest her head on his chest.

It takes a while to convince her but after a little bit she shifts and places her cheek on his chest, holding her bunny tight under her chin.

“My baby” he coos, petting the hair out of her face, “just because YN is here it doesn’t mean we can’t do what we always do!”

He hears her sigh loudly through her nose and he understands she isn’t really convinced by his words.

“It doesn’t change the love I have for you” he says, but she’s little, and he tells her he loves her everyday, so it doesn’t do very much.

“YN is really nice” he tries, “and she’s my friend. She’s funny and she loves ice cream. And she gives great cuddles. Like… great. Way better than I do, because she’s warm and she smells nice, like candy”

He hears her giggle at his words, so he keeps going, “and she makes me really happy” he coos.

“How much?” Aidi asks, her voice muffled from the cheek she has smushed against his shirt.

“Ooooh, like how much happy we are when granny comes over”

Aidi hums and raises her head from his chest to look at her daddy. She looks a little less sad now, her lips open in a small smile.

“And she loooooves bunnies. She has like three stuffed bunnies,” he smiles, and Aidi looks down at the bunny clasped in her small hand.

“Really?”

“Yeah… she actually asked me if you and Cinna’d like to meet ‘em?”

She nods her head eagerly, “maybe we could invite them over next time?” She asks doubtfully, almost shy, and Harry beams with pride upon seeing her reaction.

“‘f course bug!” He exclaims excitedly, circling her back with his arms and squeezing her against his chest. He tickles her back and she giggles uncontrollably, her laugh muffled from his shirt, “daddy stooop! Please daddy!”

He joins in on her laugh and he stops tickling her, squeezing her hard against his chest one last time.

“Is miss YN still asleep?” Aidi asks.

“Dunno,” he says, “do yeh want t’check?”

When she nods her head, he sits up on her bed and takes her in his arms, propping her on his hip and picking up her stuffed bunny.

They make their way towards Harry’s bedroom, and when they open the door, YN is still sound asleep under the duvet.

“She’s sleepin’” he whispers, and smiles when Aidi clasps her hand on his mouth, shushing him.

“Do yeh want t’sleep a little mo’?”

“Like always?” She asks, looking at him with big eyes.

“Yeah”

Aidi nods her head and points toward the bed with the hand that’s holding the bunny, “in here”.

“Okay” he nods amused.

He lays her down on the bed next to YN, tucking her under the covers, and then he scooches in next to them, shutting the small light on his bedside table.

“Harry?” He’s almost half asleep when he hears her small voice, and he opens his eyes tiredly to look at her.

“Everything’s okay?” YN asks, her voice laced with a bit of worry, that he’s quick to reassure.

“Yes. She wanted to sleep a little bit more”

“Okay.” She nods happily.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’. Everything’s perfect” he reassures, stretching a hand to caress her face.

He smiles fondly when she turns her head to kiss the skin of his wrist and then he lulls her back to sleep like he did with his daughter, petting her hair soothingly.

YN falls asleep almost immediately, and Aidi, too, is sleeping peacefully between them.

Harry, despite the tiredness, stays awake a little longer to look at both of his girls trough the dark, sleeping next to him, his heart growing in his chest every second he spends looking at them, and he wonders what they’re dreaming about, these two girls that in different ways gave him a reason to love again.

In the morning, he’ll be the last one to wake up, alone in his bed, and he’ll hear the laughter coming from the kitchen along with the sweet scent of pancakes and bacon. He will let Aidi tell him all about how YN really gives the best cuddles and smells of candy, and he will kiss YN tenderly on the head. Aidi will ask YN when she can meet her bunnies while she bites down on her Nutella pancake, and YN will say whenever her and Cinnabunny are ready.

And Harry will finally feel at peace in his routine. No pieces missing.

omg bad habit 3 is finally here 😭 i missed writing for them so much, they're all so cuteeeee ugh lmk if you liked it and if i should write more blurbs about them!!! love you all so much

#harry styles blurb #bad habit #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #teacher!yn #dad harry styles #dad!harry #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles love on tour

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utterlyotterlyx · 22 days

Text

When I Danced Under The Stars

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Three

Summary - Tamlin's visit leaves your soul in tatters, but there is someone who knows your pain better than anyone.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma, fluff

Part One - When I Kissed the Teacher

Part Two - When I Met The Devil

The fear and despair rippled down the path which led to your front door, the pulsating negative energy causing Rhys to roll his shoulders in discomfort.

He imagined your home looking rather spectacular in the daylight, the pale wood and white railings, the small well-kept garden full of blooming tulips, the natural warmth that no doubt usually emitted from the hearth. It was no wonder that Azriel had forgone his own space to spend time in yours.

Rhys had appeared at the end of the cobbled path, wings nowhere to be seen, with tired, worrisome orbs and a heavy heart. It had taken much convincing from Rhys to convince Azriel that he should be the one to talk to you, that if anyone was going to be able to understand your pain it would be him. It felt like eons since he though of Amarantha and what had transpired Under The Mountain, but as he saw you stood there, frozen in fear and overcome with your past traumas, he felt some of his own return to him.

The High Lord had little reason to think of the traumatic events he too endured not that long ago, he had a mate, and a child, and a loving growing family. Amarantha and everything she did was in the past, they had all moved on, he thought he had too but something still lingered deep within his soul, that fear that the past could one day repeat itself. It was a feeling he was doing his best to hide.

Knocking on the door, Rhys sighed when he heard your sniffles, and he pictured you standing on your tiptoes to peer through the peephole at whoever had come to pull you from your turmoil. Then you opened the door, and Rhys wanted nothing more than to bundle you up in his arms and tell you that it was all going to be alright.

Tears stained your red tinged cheeks, your eyes were puffy and swollen, and you were holding yourself, rubbing your arms with your hands whilst standing half behind the door, "Are you here to tell me to leave?"

Rhys could have cried at your broken strangled voice, it was like Lucien had said, Tamlin had the power to strip the light from you, there was no love in your eyes, just pure unfiltered fear. Rhys tilted his head to the side and shook his head, "I'd like you to walk with me," he stepped into your home, and it looked exactly as he had imagined it.

Childish artworks were strewn across the coffee table of your living area, workbooks were marked and stacked to the left of the said artworks, books upon books were stacked on the floor since your bookcases were bursting full of other titles. It was light and airy but oh so comfortable, he could picture you and Azriel cuddled up on the deep rooted love seat talking incoherently about your shared dreams. A faint scent of coffee clung to the air from the not-yet-emptied filter left in the coffee pot in the kitchen, it mixed with the aroma of the burnt firewood from the evening before.

Rhys took a step forward and plucked your cloak from the railing by the stairs, noting the neatly placed belongings on the table there, lined up in a row so that you wouldn't forget anything during the morning rush before school. You stood unmoving by the door, your eyes flickering furiously as he draped the garment over your shoulders and offered you a hand which you stared at for a moment before sliding your hand into his embrace, shuddering in a mixture of fear and and comfort as he placed your hand on the indent of his elbow.

The Sidra bubbled along the rocks, pebbled stone skitted beneath your shared weight. Neither of you said a word, Rhys was content in just having you near, where he knew you were safe, and you were equally as content looking at the night sky full of stars and wonder. A stark difference to the sky of the Spring Court.

"I'm putting you all in danger," you muttered, eyes still fixated to the dancing starlight weaving in the moons embrace, "You should send me away."

Rhys slowed to a stop and turned to face you, examining your features with a look void of any anger, in a way it was unsettling. You were far closer to Feyre than Rhys, it wasn't like you weren't friends, but you'd never spent a moment alone with him, "I'm not sending you anywhere, y/n," he told you softly, with an understanding speckle of kindness in his eye. Your High Lord lowered himself to your level, placing his hands on your upper arms and stroking the clothed skin there, "I'm here because I want you to know that I understand."

Leading you to a small ledge, Rhys perched beside you on the lip of earth, his legs dangling beside your own as the Sidra swam along down the stream, "I know what it's like to be used against your will. I know what it's like to feel tainted and unworthy of anything good. You feel like you don't belong in a way, that everything you went through was deserved and the Mother must see you as evil," he paused and brushed his arm up against your own, to give you some form of caring contact, a break of sunlight in your clouded mind, "I'm sorry that he did that to you, and I'm sorry that you've been living with it all this time. I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't tell us. I'm sorry, y/n."

Rhys felt the small sobs catch in your throat, you looked up at the sky and blinked hard, furrowing your brow and exhaling softly before looking sideward to him, "Is Feyre angry at me?"

"Cauldron, no," he told you incredulously, shuffling closer to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, "If anything she's worried about you, we all are. What you went through is something no one should ever have to deal with, let alone someone as gentle and bright as you."

"You know?" It was a whisper and your chest thundered with the possibility that they all knew what Tamlin had done, that Azriel knew what Tamlin had done. Panic sat in your chest, a birthing monster of gruesome darkness that was threatening to swallow you whole, "How?"

"Lucien," your heart fluttered, Lucien was perhaps the only person who looked out for you then, working directly against Tamlin's orders and desires to set your free, wanting nothing in return but your happiness no matter where you wound up. As if sensing the deep rooted bond between you and him, Rhys spoke, "He's here, he only told us what we needed to know. I hope you don't mind," Rhys' fingers drifted over the tips of your unbound hair.

"No, I don't. It saves me from having to explain it," Lucien was in Velaris. You knew of his bond with Elain, but you never thought you'd ever see him again, you never had the chance to thank him before he threw you onto a horses back and sent you soaring into freedom, "He's really here?"

Rhys hummed in agreement and he felt your chest grow lighter, your shoulders seemed more relaxed and your eyes didn't seem as sad anymore, "I just want you to know that I know what you went through, I went through it too, and if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands, then I'm here. I'll always be here."

A small smile graced your lips, "How long did it take you to heal?"

"I'm still working on that. Healing from this kind of trauma isn't instant. I still wake up at night sometimes thinking I'm back under that mountain with her arm draped over me," his eyes glazed over and you knew he was lost in a memory, "Then I realise that I'm next to Feyre, that I'm in Velaris and I have a son. That it was all worth something, it was worth it to be here now with everything I ever dreamed of."

Resting your head on his shoulder felt natural in that moment, like two kindred spirits finding their other half of understanding, "I hope I get to feel like that one day."

Rhys rested his head atop your head and sighed, "You will. I know you will. Velaris is your home and you're safe here, y/n. You're surrounded by people who love you. One day you'll have what I have and look back at this moment and think about how incredibly wise I am."

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at Rhys, groaning softly as he moved to stand before you, hand outstretched and a wide grin on his lips, "Dance with your High Lord under the stars?"

Smiling, you slid your hand into his, "How could I say no to that?"

It was a tender moment, Rhys placed an arm around your back, his palm flat against the centre curve of your spine, and you leaned into him, head on his chest in the most platonic sense possible as he swayed with you, taking a moment to twirl you under his arm and relish in the joyful giggle that spurted from your lips, "Thank you, Rhys."

"There's no need to thank me, y/n. You mean a lot to us, I think Nyx likes you more than me at this point. Like it or not, you're a part of my family. You make Azriel the happiest I've ever seen him, you've been an amazing friend to all of us. The least I can do is make sure you feel supported and understood."

The pair of you continued to sway, "Azriel is happy?"

Rhys chuckled, "I swear I've never seen him smile so bright or blush so deeply than whenever he returns home from being with you," Rhys pulled away from you slightly, still holding your hand in his, "Azriel would wait an eternity in the depths of hell if it meant he would have the chance to hold you in his arms for a singular moment."

The gaze of your High Lord flickered behind you and his eyes softened as he pulled away from you, "Welcome to the family, y/n. We're all bruised and broken in our own way, you'll fit right in."

That familiar warmth swarmed you, cool kisses snaked up your calves, curling around the small cuts inflicted on you from the broken glass that you hadn't had a moment to clean, "Thank you," your words were sincere and full of blinding relief, Rhys simply bowed his head to you and disappeared into the night.

It was like he knew you needed a moment, just a moment to ground yourself and exhale shakily before your turned into his awaiting arms and flung yourself into his embrace.

Azriel wound his fingers around the back of your neck and inhaled your scent, blinking hard and burrowing his nose into the nape of your neck, "I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I'm so sorry, Az."

"Shhh, don't do that," he told you, his lips pressed against the curve of your neck and shoulder, "Don't apologise for what others did to you. Don't ever apologise for what he did."

"I feel so tainted, and dirty," you sniffled, his shadows caressed your cheeks and he secured his arms tightly around your waist, "I don't deserve you. I'm too ruined, Azriel. Now that he knows that I'm here, I'm not safe. We're not safe."

It didn't escape Azriel's notice that you couldn't even say Tamlin's name, it was like if you did say it then you'd perish into ash. Azriel took your face in his hands, his touch so soft and pure compared to the grip Tamlin had on you only hours before, "I will protect you until my dying breath, and even then I will raise from my grave and return to you. Nothing will ever keep me from you. You are my empire, y/n. You are the one I will burn for, you are the one I will douse myself in blood for, you are the one that makes every single bad day worth the chance of one blissful moment. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise, okay?"

"Please don't leave me," your face contorted and tears spilled from those eyes that he could spend the rest of his days gazing into, "You make me feel alive, like there was a reason I survived. It was to find you."

Azriel's heart sang at your words and he could have crumpled to his knees before you if you weren't the one holding him up.

The stars shone overhead, glittering the sky with endless possibility and Azriel couldn't stop himself from closing the gap between you, capturing your lips on his in the most ethereal embrace, so soul shaping that he didn't think such a feeling was possible. Your tears wet his cheeks and your fingers raked through his hair in desperation, in desperation to feel loved and something other than the heartbreak of your trauma. To feel worthy of something good.

Pulling apart, you were both breathless, and Azriel could see the exhaustion in your eyes. It had been a long day for you, from worrying all day about Nyx and your family, to seeing Tamlin again and feeling the tidal wave slaughter over your soul, to feeling like you had to leave. Azriel pressed his lips to your hairline and held you close, "Let's get you to bed."

You gripped onto him as he went to pull away, "Will you stay? Tonight. Would you?"

"I'd do anything for you," his words pierced your heart, you entwined your fingers in his and allowed him close enough to lift you into his arms, unfurling his wings, "And tomorrow, maybe I can take you to see Lucien? Or we could stay in a read?"

Humming drowsily, you responded, "Lucien, please."

The stars were so close as Azriel soared through the skies of Velaris, cradling you into his chest. You felt nothing but serene slumber pull you into its embrace as the stars sang their sweet lullaby, singing their love to you as your eyes fluttered closed and you became shrouded in their safe, loving arms.

You are safe. You are loved. You are strong. You are worthy.

Authors Note

Ahhhhh!!!! I hope this was worth the wait x

Part 4??

Taglist

@fxckmiup @sh4nn @acourtofbatboydreams @lilah-asteria @iloveboba777 @lisanna2000 @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon

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darlingdekarios · 1 year

Text

buffet.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 3,146 content: Eddie Brock/Venom x f!reader, symbiote involvement, is this technically a threesome?, tentacles, smut [v fingering, unprotected p in v, alien tentacles & tongue, double penetration, receiving oral]

the only kind of sharing Eddie Brock will agree to.

It was really only a matter of time before something like this happened. After months of a casual fling with Eddie Brock – quick meetups in your office at work had evolved into hours spent between the sheets of your bed, which had turned into nights of him crawling into his bed beside you. The frequency that flowers came to your office signed with his name had increased, his visits to bring you lunch nearing every day – the other people who worked at the paper with you had their assumptions. And yet, despite the obviously growing intensity between the two of you, there had never been an official name put on whatever was transpiring.

But tonight, the two of you had escalated things by going to a very public press fundraiser together. It was the kind of event Eddie hated – everyone in their fancy suits and dresses, signing checks not to be good people but to make others think they were so, the sticks shoved firmly up their asses as they ate overly-expensive and shitty food. While most of the people present got an idea of the situation when you arrived arm-in-arm with him, the irresistible allure of every dip and curve in your body in your sleek black dress had pulled in attention you didn’t want – or need.

It was Eddie’s final thread snapping that had changed the evening. While you were speaking with one of your old colleagues, his eyes had lingered downward far too long for his taste, and he had put the man in his place with a raised voice. Veins protruding in his temples and neck, Eddie had openly chastised the man for being so indecent toward you, and in doing so confirmed what most of the people in the room already knew – he was hopelessly in love with you. You’d watched on, cheeks pink as you bit into your bottom lip, watching him loudly stake a claim over you that you had to wonder exactly when he’d began to feel entitled to it – not that you had any arguments to present.

It wasn’t a surprise when the two of you were escorted out and refused a car service home due to the scene he’d caused, and so you found yourselves walking through the park to return to whichever apartment was closest. The chilled air was helping to simmer the anger that was boiling in him, and yet he was still walking with an intensity that quickened his step, his breaths coming out in frustrated huffs. Once you were fully removed from the lights and sounds of the ongoing party behind you, one of your hands found its way to grip his shoulder, steadying his movements for a moment. Slipping your hands around his middle you pressed yourself to his back in a gentle hug, your cheek leaning against the leather of his jacket that was warm thanks to the heat he was giving off.

“I’ve never seen you like that over me, Eddie,” you purred, using a quiet voice to soothe him into the relaxation you knew you could bring him to. His large hands came to rest over yours on his stomach, a deep breath releasing from his chest with another huff.

“I’m sorry to embarrass you like that, baby,” he relented, his hands giving yours a light squeeze. His voice was hoarse, rough from the shouting he’d been doing not long before, and yet you knew him well enough to hear the hidden worry his voice carried – he didn’t want you to be angry for hastening the end of your first real night out together. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just…couldn’t handle the way he was looking at you. I didn’t fucking like how anyone there was looking at you, like I wasn’t even there. Like I wasn’t right fucking there.”

“You weren’t the one in the wrong, and I don’t think there’s any question about who I was there with now, Eddie,” you cooed quietly, sympathetic to his rising anger, knowing you could truly subside it whenever you wished. “And you don’t need to be sorry to me. I…will never complain about seeing you that way…for me.”

And at the same time you were coaxing him into a calm lull, the symbiote attached to him was in his mind, its words infused with something primal.

She likes when we show possession of her, Eddie. We can smell it on her.

Eddie turned himself then, his arms wrapping to hold you against him firmly as his eyes searched for yours in the pale moonlight. His mind less clouded in anger now, he took in the red hue to your cheeks, the way your bottom lip had already begun to swell due to your repeated biting, the way your eyes had begun to darken – this was a look he was familiar with, a look he coveted. His lips curved upward into a smirk, a look you also knew – a look that meant he’d finally relaxed enough to catch on. The hoarse gavel to his voice did nothing to satiate the flaming heat in your own stomach.

“Seeing me what way for you?” he inquired, the answer already running through his mind. His hands found your lower back, pushing you forward into him so you could relish in his heat. One of his hands slid to grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up toward his as he bent downward to lightly rub his nose against yours. “You like seeing me get possessive over you, pretty girl? Does it get you all hot and bothered to see me lose my mind over you?”

Pulling your lip between your teeth again you could only bring yourself to nod, quiet breaths increasing in pace embarrassingly quickly as he leveraged his proximity to you by allowing his lips to brush against yours. He loved to see how flustered you were for him – even Venom continued to mentally remark how you looked for them – but you knew what he truly wanted from you. Miraculously, you found your voice, nothing for than a quiet murmur against his lips.

“You look sexy when you’re angry like that, yeah…but what really made me hot was you getting so possessive over me,” you whispered, lips brushing his with feather-light movements as you spoke. His hold on your chin became firmer, his hand at your back slipping to grasp your hip. “Almost like you think I’m yours or somethin’.”

The taunt was intentional, he knew that, and responded in kind by slotting his lips against yours, beginning to pull you with him as he stepped backward repeatedly to disappear into the trees. Returning his kiss, you quickly found your tongue entering a dance with his, his hand sliding to cup your cheek into its warmth. When he felt there were enough trees between the two of you and the path, he pulled away from your kiss carefully, shrugging his jacket free of his shoulders as he went.

“You are mine, I guess maybe I need to do a better job at showing you that,” he teased, his lips connecting with yours again as he began to cover your back and shoulders with his jacket. Backing you into a tree he leaned down closer to you, testing how sturdy the thick trunk appeared to be. “But I know you like it, because Venom says it can smell how fucking wet you are because of it. I didn’t know you wanted to be mine so bad, you could’ve asked nicely, you know?”

“Eddie, Jesus, you talk so fucking much sometimes,” you whimpered, your complaint pulling a laugh from him as he began to trail kisses across your jaw. Your fingers bunched into his shirt on his chest, pulling him closer as you sought to rub your core against his thigh for any amount of friction you could get. His hands began to pull at your dress, bunching it up until he held most of the skirt at your hips, shifting his leg between yours to knock them apart.

“Try to keep quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered when his lips reached your ear, sucking into the delicate skin beneath your ear immediately after before he began to sink to his knees in front of you. “I’d hate to have one of those stuck-up assholes ruin our fun.”

Before you could question his intent, he leaned forward, running his soft lips along the inside of your thigh, inhaling deeply as each of his instincts screamed for him to. Keeping one hand on the fabric of your dress he reached the other to push your delicate underwear to the side, immediately diving into your wet folds with his tongue to test for himself how wet you were. Groaning on at the familiar honey-sweetness of your arousal his hand slipped to lift one of your legs over his shoulder, lapping against you as though it was all that had been on his mind for hours.

A quiet moan slipped from your lips, your head leaning back to the tree as your eyes rolled back – a good thing considering the mere sight of him on his knees for you was enough to make you scream. As his lips sucked against your swollen clit he slipped his hand back to your ass, squeezing firmly before running his tongue downward again. Fucking his tongue into you he released another groan before pulling away, placing kisses along the insides of your thighs.

“You taste so good,” he cooed, his murmured words of appreciation striking into you deeply, pulling another quiet moan from you. “All that fancy fucking food at that dinner tonight and not a single thing tasted this good.”

We want a taste, Eddie.

The low rumbling voice, no matter how familiar it had become in the last several months, always sent a shiver down your spine. Even the symbiote was conscious of the situation and desperate not to ruin it, quieting its voice to much lower volumes than normal – though only for the benefit of the humans, as if it were left to the alien, it would cherish your moans bouncing off the trees. Eddie licked another desperate line between your folds, flicking his tongue against his clit as he savored every drop of you he could. His voice was husky when he finally found it.

“I’m not the one to ask, V,” he explained, his hand pushing against your backside to encourage your core to his face where his tongue waited again. “I’m not so sure if she’s ready for that.”A cold, slick and slightly barbed tongue licked a surprisingly solemn stripe along the inside of your thigh, chasing the path Eddie had taken minutes ago now. Goosebumps raised across your skin, a soft gasp falling from your lips as your eyes shot open to confirm the sight for yourself. Venom, careful not to anger Eddie, stilled its movements on your thigh as Eddie fucked his tongue into your warm channel again. Your fingers found Eddie’s hair, tangling into the soft locks to steady yourself as you nodded your head weakly, struggling to find words appropriate for the situation you found yourself in.

“You…you’re both part of one another,” you replied, words shaking as you fought to consent through the waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Eddie could feel Venom reaching out to every inch of his body, soaking in the desire every part of them felt. As you managed to nod your head you found words within yourself again. “I don’t want to keep myself from any part of you. Go…ahead, V.”

Eddie’s mouth fell open in brief shock before he reached to connect it with your clit again, sucking against the swollen nib gently as the tongue on your thigh reached higher now. The cool, wet muscle eagerly reached for your dripping hole, experimentally swirling the tip around your entrance. When they were rewarded with the sweetest moan they’d ever heard a groan rumbled in Eddie’s chest, his own tongue flicking against your clit as Venom’s tongue slipped into your cunt, far deeper than any human could hope to reach. As Venom began to swirl its tongue inside you Eddie continued his attention on your clit, reaching his hand that didn’t grasp fabric at your waist to force his pants down, freeing his straining cock with a rough slap against his stomach.

The pressure built in your stomach impossibly full as your legs began to shake, Eddie’s teeth nibbling your clit gently as Venom continued familiarizing its own tongue with the taste of you. It wasn’t long before you had to throw your head back again, a tidal wave of pleasure washing through your body as your orgasm gushed through you, the majority finding its way to Eddie’s mouth – he wouldn’t be the one to waste a drop.

Once content with how clean he’d ensured your folds were, Eddie began to raise himself back up, pressing greedy kisses to any part of your torso that was exposed to him. As Venom’s tongue withdrew from you Eddie hoisted you up, immediately burying his cock to the hilt as he pinned you against himself and the tree, shuddering with a groan as he buried his face in your neck. His strong exterior always melted in those first moments he felt your warmth welcome him in again, and with his face hidden in your neck and eyes squeezed shut he was oblivious to the sleek black tendril that wound itself around your middle, securing you to the tree further so Eddie didn’t have to focus on his hold. You welcomed him home with a moan, as you always did, which encouraged him to give a beginning thrust, grunting into your skin as he began to nibble on the tender skin beneath your ear.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, my god,” he groaned into your ear, picking up the pace of his thrusts into you. With a particularly perfect thrust the head of his cock knocked against your cervix, eliciting a loud moan from your chest. Another tendril took advantage of your open lips, slipping into your mouth with nodded approval from Eddie. “We told you we gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t worry, Venom’ll help – be a good girl and suck, love seeing those pretty lips workin’.”

Your moans were muffled by Venom, your glazed over eyes finding Eddie’s as he raised his head to look at you, to confirm that you were following his suggestion. Holding his eye contact and feeling the way your walls clenched him at these new sensations, you began to work your mouth over the perfectly sized appendage. A low, appreciative growl rumbled through the air from the symbiote, Eddie’s thrusts becoming more desperate as he connected his mouth with your neck again, sucking an obvious mark into your skin.

Between grunts he spoke praises, thanking you for how good you were being with your mouth and complimenting how fucking hot you looked for them. Within minutes his thrusts were becoming sloppy, and he took a deep breath to steady himself, unwilling to finish before you could again. Knowing Eddie’s predicament, Venom’s tongue slid carefully up your thigh again before flicking against your clit, mirroring the action it had watched Eddie do many times. Your hips bucked forward into Eddie’s roughly, a deep moan sounding in your chest even passed your stuffed mouth, your eyes rolling back before closing. Eddie reached a hand to cup the side of your face, coaxing you to look at him again with soft words as he began to time his thrusts with the flicks of Venom’s tongue.

“That’s right, pretty girl – keep those eyes on me,” he pleaded, his words broken up between heavy breaths. Though you pushed yourself to remain fixated on his eyes, both of you broke the loving gaze when you felt additional tendrils on your legs, working up your bodies slowly – almost inquisitively. “Venom…wants to make sure we’re both nice and full. You gonna let us?”

You could barely nod, eyes finding Eddie’s again to communicate your consent the best you could with a look. Even if your mouth wasn’t full, you wouldn’t have been able to find the words to describe just how it felt when an intentionally wet tendril prodded at the tight ring of muscle at your backside – nor how it made you feel to see the same was happening to Eddie. Venom worked the tendrils into each of your asses like it had planned to do so for a long time now, like it knew exactly how it needed to enter both of you to make it feel as good as possible.

Venom’s thrusts matched Eddie’s perfectly, its tongue swirling around your clit in a sinful synchrony that had your thighs shaking within minutes. Your hands reached for Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin even past the t-shirt covering him. Eddie’s breaths were ragged, and yet as you’d mentioned before – he just couldn’t bring himself not to speak to you.

“Gonna let me fill you up, perfect girl?” he questioned, his hands finding your hips as he began to relentlessly ram his cock up into you. He took a moment to look down between the two of you, watching how his cock disappeared into your tight walls with each thrust before fixing his gaze on your face again, groaning when you nodded your approval. If it were any other time, he’d want you to be able to speak – but he couldn’t chance the scream he knew you wanted to let rip through you. “Gonna fill you up so much I’m leaking out of you for days,” he promised, followed quickly by another, “and then I’m going to fill you up some more when we get home.”

Your thighs already shaking, you wrapped them around him tighter as you rocked against him, part of your moan slipping past the tendril in your mouth as your eyes rolled back. Your walls clenching around him pulled Eddie’s own release from him, his thick, hot load shooting deep into you as a low groan sounded in his chest along with a string of compliments.

When your shared euphoria had subsided, Venom departed from where it filled you so you could lean forward to claim Eddie’s lips in a kiss, your hands still clutching to his shoulders and body shaking as the pleasure continued to surge through you. Eddie returned your kiss hungrily, slowly pulling himself from you and steadying you back on the ground with his hands on your hips gently. When both of you were redressed, he pulled you back in for another kiss, his lips moving against yours as he spoke a final promise into the night.

“That’s the only kind of sharing you’ll get from me.”

masterlist. marvel masterlist.

#eddie brock #venom #veddie #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock smut #eddie brock fanfiction #venom x reader #venom smut #veddie x reader #veddie x you #veddie smut #tom hardy

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leah-lover · 23 days

Text

Good chaos. Mary earps x pundit reader.

Mary spoils her relationship with reader on air.

Ever since you were a kid you loved talking. You started doing it from a very young age.

you found your comfort in having conversations. Whether it was about the weather, a movie, gossip, or deep concepts you thrived. When you got older you discovered theater, and fell in love with the stage. Cameras and audiences never frightened you.

Heading into college you chose media as a degree and you were expelled at it which landed you a job in the best company in British television, the BBC. of course your beauty helped in the process but they assured that they cared more about your thoughts and talent of capturing attention and holding meaningful conversation. You started your career by doing interviews on red carpets, and hosting a few talk shows. Your audience grew quickly and you found yourself a household name for half a year, which was unheard of.

After a few years you grew tired of the facknes od the Hollywood scene but you still loved your job so you decided to change the scenery and go to sports. The change was radical and brought about many questions from your fans. But they stuck by you. You brought a new following to the sport you chose which was women’s football.

Women’s football was on the rise and you saw an opportunity to change the field.

The WSL felt like the home you needed. The fans of the sport, the atmosphere and the message it transpired was very much up your alley. The thing that helped you feel more at home was the queerness of the game, and the acceptance of the people, something you have been longing for.

It has now been 8 years since you joined BBC sports. Like many predicted you had a huge following across all the platfomùs, you have won awards and presented many to other people.

Everybody loved to be interviewed by you.

Tonight was a special night, it was the last leg of the Olympic qualifying. You as usual were a part of the team that covered the Lionesses games.

The game was nothing short of exhilarating, after a tough 120 minutes the Egland girls made it to the olympics. Screams and cheers erupted as wembley. The most notable person people were cheering for was Mary Earps , the exceptional goalkeepers or as you have her in your contacts by, lovely girlfriend.

Mary was protective, she wanted to keep your relationship a secret to protect your career and you as a person.

You were beyond proud of her, and she was proud of herself too which you described in the sideline interview you did with her.

“ So Mary, that was a stunning performance by you , player of the match, tell me what you think.?” i asked

“ I think the girls did a wonderful job, cheering the midfield for distributing good balls, the forwards did a fantastic job finishing, and obviously my defender who battled with me today. '' she replied shouting.

“ Well I am most excited for this years’ Olympic games. The competition is very heated. What are your thoughts about that?”

“ i am looking forward to playing in the olympics, aiming for gold, and having you there as my good luck omen.”

“ wheel I will make sure to be there all the way.”

Before leaving she gave you a kiss on the cheek and her hand lingered a little too long on your ass.

While Mary left to do press conference duties and leave for your home in Manchester, you stayed in London doing some post production work and you undecided to go party with your team after.

The night was fun, you took a 4 Am flight after and opened your front door around 9 am. It was Mary and your off day so she decided to sleep in.

“ Good morning my love.” you said kissing her temple, and passing your fingers along her face softly. Without hesitation she picked you up and threw you in the bed next to her. Giggling you kisses her softly again, and again, and again.

“ So proud of you baby. I love you so much.”

“ I missed you. I wanted to celebrate with you yesterday. I miss your beautiful body so much.”

“ and my ass.Speaking of my ass, I need to check mùy phone.”

You moved from Mary’s group which earned you a groan. you then put your phone in the charger and set it on.

Your phone almost exploded when you opened it. Your notifications were crazy. You Clicked on the first one which was tweet

“ holy shit Mary is for the girls, holy shit she is an ass girl.” under the tweet was snap pon the moment mary kissed you with her hand on your ass.

“ holy fuck Mary, i think we have been exposed.” you say to here.

You both looked at the tweets for a little bit. All of the ones you saw were positive and surprising.

“ Well you have a very good ass baby.” she said. You smack her hand as a response.

“It was time for people to know that you and your ass are mine now get back into bed so that you can reward me for yesterday.” she added.

“ I have to tweet This first.” you said

“ proud of my goalkeeper. Proud of my girlfriend.” you wrote.

“ Now let the chaos begin while I create chaos between your legs,” you say to Mary.

#woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #woso community #mary earps #mary earps x reader #mary earps imagine #pundit reader

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shikai-the-storyteller · 3 months

Text

I've been thinking a lot about Leonarda's not-death ever since it happened back in April.

("What death?" you might ask, to which I say: "EXACTLY!")

Back in mid-April, Vegetta and Leonarda were mining together in a one-block wide tunnel. A mob (a Petriman) got between the two of them, and Vegetta told Leonarda to step back while he took care of it. At this point, they'd spent enough time together that he trusted Leo to listen to him.

Instead, she was killed by the same sweeping edge bug that killed her siblings.

Vegetta's reaction here is what's really interesting to me. Unlike most other parents on the Island, there are no shouts or tears – only a very brief "Hmm" and then silence. He very quietly takes stock of the situation, saying "Vegetta, no" and wondering aloud why Leo didn't defend herself. In chat, Foolish says "It was a bug, right? LAG" to which Vegetta slowly responds "Yes, lag. Bug." (Despite this, Foolish still asks "WHAT HAPPENED" in chat, though Vegetta doesn't reply).

Instead, he creates a slightly wider space in the tunnel where Leo's body is. He continues quietly taking stock of the situation, wondering why Leo didn't defend herself (which is what necessitated his intervention). She'd been lagging a lot that day, and he figures that must be the cause, and eventually when Leo re-appears out of thin air in the middle of the cave and collects her stuff, she confirms that the lag got to her and that's why she didn't fight the mob.

Now here's where things get interesting:

Vegetta checks the tab list. Online, it's just him, Leonarda, Roier, and Foolish. He quietly tells Leonarda "The body has already disappeared, and without a body, there is no crime. Nothing is happening. Did you die?" Leo shakes her head, and Vegetta shakes his head too, and in the kind voice he uses sometimes with Leo, he says: "I believe you have not died. Where is the body? It isn't anywhere, no mija. If it was a mistake, it was a mistake."

Leo says: "I saw Diosito (God) pa, and I was scared. God, what am I doing here?" and Vegetta laughs, telling her it's alright. Leo says "No pasa nada (don't worry / nothing happened)" and Vegetta says: "And the people who are watching us have not seen it either." To Foolish and Roier, he messages: "Secreto."

And the funniest thing about this is it worked.

Not a single person spoke about it. I saw this entire event go down live and I didn't see a WHISPER of what transpired among fans. I can't even remember if the QSMP official accounts talked about it (they sure didn't mention it in Vegetta's recap of the day). We could discuss this in meta terms of course– Leo was having known lag issues that day, Vegetta's beloved by the admins so of course they're willing to turn a blind eye rather than slap a "?" over Leonarda's life on the Eggstatistics, but meta talk isn't what I'm interested in here.

I'm interested in q!Vegetta, the weird "god-adjacent" aura he's got, and the way the universe bends to his will.

Before he took a break from the server, Rubius seemed to be a caretaker for the Eggs who died (for example, he was present when Maxo, Quackity, and Mariana & Slime said their final goodbyes to Trumpet, Tilin, and JuanaFlippa). Because of his role as an "angel" and some of his dialogue during the early days of the server, it's not a stretch to say he probably came to collect any Egg who lost a life. I can imagine he did the same when he saw Leonarda die – that is, until Vegetta said "And the people who are watching us have not seen it either." Realistically, we know Vegetta was saying this to Chat (and possibly the admins as well), but again, we're looking at this from an "in-universe" perspective.

I wonder if Vegetta was aware of Rubius' role, and this was his way of telling Rubius "No. I won't allow that to happen." We know Rubius has a soft-spot for Vegetta (and we also know that Rubius was cast out of heaven several months later) so it makes me wonder if these two instances are connected.

Either way, this isn't the first time the laws of the QSMP universe have bent for Vegetta, and I certainly don't think it'll be the last.

Rubius or no, Leo didn't die that day.

Vegetta made sure of it.

#i talk #QSMP talk #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #I FOUND IT #I wrote this post TWO MONTHS AGO #MAYBE LONGER!!!#I had clips and links prepared but I have no idea where those went #I'm not gonna bother saving this as a draft and risk losing it again #I have nearly 70000 drafts on my main blog but by some miracle this got saved in my art blogs' drafts instead #than the stars #Anyways. Leo was killed by a whale a few days later because Foolish was in the bathroom lmao #''powerful god-adjacent man who bends the laws of the universe'' vs. ''man whose entire life is a series of sitcom episodes''#I still really want to write out that ''QSMP genre'' thought I had ages ago. It's still relevant and always will be relevant #but anyways #I wrote this months ago on very little sleep but DANG. It's a banger.#I miss writing analysis stuff I wish I was in a headspace where I could do this more like I used to #QSMP analysis

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lilyrachelcassidy · 1 year

Text

Birthday Buzz

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

A/N: hi! loving your feedback and constructive criticism, so if you feel like sharing your opinion, feel free to do such! love ya

Summary: How birthday day can go in such a different way than initially planned.

Warnings: oh yes! language, some mild graphics (make-up lol), bitchy Pansy, and... have I mentioned language??

Word Count (bruh): 5.1k

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

No one would have convinced Y/N in the morning that what had just transpired was coming around, in such a slapdash rapidity as it had. Even so, with that clear-cut fact smacking her right across the face was it still so damn hard to believe that... that it was true.

She must be hallucinating. Or dreaming. Even the phenomenon of swines with the wings in the air would have been more feasible than... what was that exactly?

It all started with Y/N descending to the Great Hall, the walls woven with the luminant sunlight of the spring. Entering the room, humid and somewhat irksome (it was Monday, everything is irksome on Mondays, alright?), she instantly noticed a few details: McGonagall's new insipid hairstyle, the plate with her go-to breakfast already stowed in her regular sitting spot, Pansy’s huge grin tacked on her lips, and Blaise missing. The latest part surprised Y/N the most because she knew that Blaise would never skip a breakfast, and these were his usual hours of arriving; maybe he had already eaten?

Also, what’s the Pansy’s deal with smiling like a madman who overdosed on the crack?

What in the world...

“Haiya you!” Pansy scrambled to her feet, without giving Y/N a chance to query. “Guess what! Or no, you are so bullshit at guessing anyways... Slytherin is throwing a party today!”

The last part of her sentence came out in a feverish murmur, so that the Teachers’ Table wouldn’t overhear their conversation, and only loud enough for Y/N to hear. Still, her excitement was speaking volumes and Y/N wondered quickly whether Pansy really hadn’t dosed on a shot or two before the breakfast. Not that she wasn’t like that on a daily basis.

“What? It’s literally the beginning of the week.”

“But not every week does someone have a birthday!” As Pansy’s elation gently receded, was then Y/N able to finally to abscond herself at the table and munch on the already-prepared food. Upon seeing Y/N frowning, Pansy let out a shrill shriek which made a few people nearby glance crabwise at the two. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“About what?”

Another shriek followed. “Mattheo’s birthday!”

An awkward grimace popped on Y/N’s face, brows knitting together. “Well... if you haven’t noticed, we are not precisely on the friendly terms.”

Pansy made a fish-like O with her mouth, obviously about to say something appeasing, but the grunt next to Y/N interrupted. Promptly, she looked for the owner of the voice and was astonished to learn that the rest of their group was siding just next to her and Pansy, ostensibly listening to their exchange from the starters.

“Well, well... just look who has finally decided to acknowledge the rest of her friends. Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

She smirked. “No need to be so bitter, Theo. A few more years of practice and you may replace Snape in his disgruntlement.” A snort issued at the table and Y/N, complacent, grinned cheekily at Theo who only huffed. “Oh, don’t be like that, Theo, you know I love you.” Laying her head against his shoulder, she patted him at the top of his head. “There, there...”

“So... party you say,” spoke up Draco for the first time. He was chewing on his morning toast, evidently amused by the entire scene, but his eyes had a ghost of a question in them. Y/N already knew that this topic wasn’t going to slip by as easily. “Have you really forgotten about Mattheo?”

A smear of naked embarrassment splattered on Y/N’s cheeks. A part of her wanted to tell everyone to back off and just let her be, but at the same time, she knew she had blundered. It didn’t matter if they were close with Mattheo or not; they belonged to the same coterie, so it entangled some commitment. Even if that indicated associating with the bombastic entitlement of Mattheo for longer than the ideal time.

“Mhm... Yeah. You know. How was I supposed to know, really. We barely talk.” While saying so, Y/N made sure to perform the best glower she could pull off. She felt extremely petulant while doing so, but she wanted to fend for herself and not let anyone manoeuvre her into culpability.

“I told you about that, like two days ago!” Pansy had a distinct air of displeasure, as though personally offended by the occurrence. “I specifically highlighted ‘please, try to remember, it’s important’ and you said ‘fine’!”

“Well, I did not remember. And so, what? Don’t make such a big fuss about that. It’s not like he cares anyways,” Y/N said that with a nose in her breakfast plate, trying to avert the gaze from the rest, especially from Pansy who seemed to be at the brink of incredulity.

She should have remembered though. She should have.

Shit, shit, shit...

Theo grunted again. “It’s not the end of the world, Pansy, we only have to find a way to... make Y/N appear like she’s not an ignorant brat who forgot about her friend's birthday.” A beat. Theo peeked at Y/N goadingly, but she was already shooting daggers at him; that made him smirk. “She can pin her name on the present we got with Blaise.”

“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” said Y/N, making a U-turn and smiling gratefully at her friend. Gosh, she didn’t know what she would have done without this insolent arse. In order to take the limelight off herself, Y/N continued: “Why did you decide to organize the party so last-minute, anyways?”

“We didn’t know till now if we would be able to smuggle the booze,” said Draco through the half-full mouth.

“And how ar--”

“Don’t ask,” interjected Pansy with the look that explicitly indicated that Y/N wouldn’t like to know that piece of information. “Blaise is fixing everything.”

In response, Y/N merely nodded.

“So here is a deal,” Pansy continued after a beat. She lowered her timbre as if revealing a top-secret gossip to a bunch of nine-year-olds. “When Mattheo comes down, we are going to pretend like we don’t remember about his birthday. He is going to be sulking all day long and stuff-”

“Highly doubt th-”

“However.” If the looks could kill, Theo would be surely laying prostrate, French-kissing the floor. “At around...” She looked at her wristwatch. “8-ish, Y/N will ask Mattheo if he could help her out, at the same time hauling him to the Common Room. And that’s when all of us will jump out and hold a fucking “Surprise” banner right in front of his pretty face. Clear much?”

Y/N exhaled, with one nagging thought in her head. Why was she always the one to be arranged in such a setting with Mattheo? Her friends were acutely aware of the enmity between the two, yet they always impelled them to work together, both if it came to the school projects or even the group hangouts when everyone – beside her and Mattheo, obviously – would suddenly mingle out of the gathering last-minute.

As if sensing the ongoing dissension in Y/N’s head, Pansy critically eyed Y/N and furrowed, precisely addressing her concerns: “Something to add, Y/N?”

“No, I love the plan,” she replied quickly, after a moment of contemplation. “It’s that I’m not sure about the latest bit. I—I don’t know if he will accede, you know, with helping me out. We aren’t that friendly, so it may seem a tad suspicious that all of the sudden I’m asking him for a favour.”

No one said anything for a couple of seconds, but everyone seemed to be having the same hardwired thought as they threw each other the same bemused look, chewing the silence away. The tension of the message, so palpable it was, that it made Y/N snap out of the anticipation; she turned to Pansy, catching the waft of her strong double expresso, and then ogled each of her friends with an expectant eye.

“What?” Her tone seemed brusque, even to herself. “Why are you all acting so... meek? Is there something I don’t know about?” And then, the thought dawned at her: “Has Mattheo said something about me?”

Another round of chary looks followed, but before anyone was able to lodge a definite answer to the barrage of Y/N’s questions, the voice from behind echoed:

“Morning, everyone.”

Y/N whirled so abruptly, it almost cost her a whiplash, but when she saw the way Mattheo suited himself today, it most definitely caused her that whiplash. He was clad in a button-up shirt, the last couple of buttons undone and exposing the cleavage; his hair of the usual dark-brown curl was tumbling in its usual haphazard style and accentuating his prominent cheekbones; most definitely, the vague scar across his face did not make Y/N anyhow randy. Anyhow!

What struck Y/N the most, however, was the halo above his head – sunlight seeping through the Great Hall’s windows and highlighting Mattheo’s figure. The image was so angelic, so lofty, it suddenly caused the dryness in her throat. She thought she must be melting under those caramel-brown eyes like a humongous puddle of sweat and adoration.

No, she most definitely did not develop a crush on her frenemy, that couldn’t be right.

Y/N suddenly realized that she might be gawking, so she promptly returned to her previous position, all her aptitude to eat and breathe gone. Sidewise, she also noticed Pansy grinning knowingly at her, and when Y/N gave her an evil eye, she merely shrugged in a manner of “you know what I mean.”

Mattheo, instead of occupying his usual spot at the table, squeezed in between Y/N and some Slytherin second-year. Y/N had a vague impression that he was awaiting his friends to suddenly burst singing “Happy Birthday” or bestow him with wishes, because his lips were pressed in a thin line, and he was silently scooping the porridge from the ornamental bowl.

“So, what’s new, Mattheo?” asked Theo which felt so widely inappropriate that Y/N suddenly had an urge to boot him.

From this proximity, Y/N could perceive the brief flash of hurt across Mattheo’s features, but that was only for milliseconds. He plastered a sham smile on his face, and only tipped off with a short: “Not much.”

“We were actually talking,” started Pansy, carefully. “That Y/N needed some tutoring in Potions.” This time, Y/N seriously contemplated booting someone. Namely, Pansy. “Maybe you could help her, Mattheo? You are good at Potions, right?”

Dismissing Pansy’s last question, Mattheo finally eyed Y/N who was maxing out the redness of her face. She gave him a bashful smile. “Really? I thought you were good at Potions.”

The blankness overcame her. Y/N, clearly at whom the question was directed, tried to contrive a blatant lie but failing more and more as the seconds elapsed. Panic-stricken, she looked at Pansy who was witnessing the entire fall with a pained expression.

Shit.

“I-- I have a problem with this n-new topic. Something connected with Pepperup Potion,” she finally spluttered out, after what felt like forever. Once more, she glanced at Pansy who gave her the thumbs-up (that crone!), but she made the point of averting Mattheo’s gaze. “But sure, if you don’t want t--”

“No problem,” he broke off Y/N’s exhausted ramble. “Around 6-ish then?”

“Actually,” said Pansy. “Me and Y/N are headed to the Hogsmeade at that time. Girly things, you know. Maybe you can meet up, afterward, like 7-ish?”

“Mhm, yeah, why not. As long as it’s okay with Y/N.” He shortly looked at her but she, mortified, merely responded with a nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then!” Pansy exclaimed a coda with a sort of exuberance which, apparently, nobody else shared. And Y/N couldn’t help but think how interesting her one-to-one with Mattheo is going to be.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXXOXO

Precisely two minutes before the appointed time, Y/N was at the foot of the library, taking in deep breaths.

She didn’t know why she felt so overwrought. She thought she must be overreacting. It’s not like her and Mattheo hadn’t been alone with each other before.

Rather, the opposite – they had been. Plenty of times.

The worst part was, or the funniest -- Y/N wasn’t sure in which terms she should regard that case – she constantly kept recollecting the same printed image of Mattheo from the morning. In his unbuttoned shirt, with that tousled hair which really gave him a look of a lead vocalist from the “Weird Sisters.” And the weirdest bit was that Y/N found that immensely attractive.

Maybe there was something wrong with her? Maybe it was her hormones butting in, her pre-period thirst for what’s been chucked by the universe? And again, why would the universe be afflicting her?

Deciding that she would probably not find any answers to those unabating thoughts, Y/N thought that there was no longer point of dangling in front of the entrance like some kind of mule. She pushed the door, treaded through a couple of book sections before finally localizing Mattheo with his usual cavalier aura. He was scribbling something rather intently on the piece of parchment in front of him, so much was he absorbed that he didn’t even flinch when Y/N strode over to the table.

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence. “Hey.”

He ultimately quirked up, and gosh was he so unbelievingly charming. Even after a day of meandering in the same clothes, he still made an impression of impeccable, and when his eyes met Y/N’s irresolute gaze, he smiled at her softly. Something flittered in Y/N’s stomach, and she only hoped that it was that sketchily-looking croissant that she had eaten.

“Hey,” he spoke in a stoic manner, simultaneously gesturing at the chair next to him. “Take a seat.”

And so she did; from that distance she could smell the scent of his cologne – cedarwood mixed with an enticing trace of bourbon. Damn him.

“Huh, so shall we start?” he asked as Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his face. “Or will you just keep staring?”

At once, Y/N tore her gaze away from his face, a blush blotching her cheeks; she felt positively mortified, warmth venturing from the chest to the nape of her neck. Well, it will take her some time to recover from that... “Yeah,” she laughed out, breathlessly. “Sorry.”

He merely shook his head, then plucked the course book from his satchel, and dragged it between the two of them. Without further ado, he commenced explaining the topic to her (“Pepperup Potion is quite a facile topic” Yeah, no shit, Flamel) in his calming voice, tracing his finger over the ingredients and elucidating their cruciality in finalization of the potion.

And while he was explaining all of that, composed and unbothered as if it were his daily lark, Y/N was on the other side of the spectrum – never had her body undergone something like that: her brain muddled, thoughts garbled, heart doing cartwheels whenever she looked up at Mattheo. She even noticed those little things about him, like the way his fingers smoothly flipped the pages, the way he pursed his lips whenever he was deeply immersed in his thoughts, or even that he had this sweet, little habit of raking his fingers through his hair.

Y/N, at the same time, absolutely detested herself for having those thoughts – superficial, distractive, unnecessary, delusory, egregious, and...

She was staring again and, from the peripheries of his vision, Mattheo had noted that because he was eyeing her again in the matter of seconds, clearly saying something but Y/N couldn’t string those words together. Only after a couple of seconds did she parse what he had asked.

“Yes, I’m fine...” she answered, swallowing the pit in her throat. Then, she inspected her watch – 7.47 -- and decided that it was a high time for them to bestir. “I’m just feeling... tired. Maybe we should get going, you know.”

Mattheo eyed her for a few more jiffs before finally nodding. Y/N had a dim impression that something in terms of acrimony flashed across his face for a split moment, but that was quickly gone, and he was already shoving his belongings into the satchel.

Once they were out in the corridor, Y/N started: “Thank you for your help, you know. That means a lot.” She thought it a good idea to pass over her gratitude by touching his shoulder but boy was she wrong. The reaction was immediate: Mattheo stiffened under her touch and, like a scalded cat, took a stride backward; his breath hitched and even in a dull lighting as it was, she could discern how his pupils dilated; he raked his hand over his hair like he had done before.

Y/N froze, halting just as he had. Not sure what else to do, because she hadn’t done anything wrong really, she simply waited how this debacle was going to progress; she could have anticipated many things -- him throwing cusses at her, him laughing the entire situation off, even him casting curses at her. What she hadn’t expected, however, was Mattheo suddenly rushing in a different direction than the Common Room and leaving her lingering in the spot, not able to process rapidity of the shebang.

Maybe she should have felt contrite at the moment, maybe she should have given up, and simply informed her friends that the plan clearly hadn’t worked out, and that Mattheo was a prick, leaving her hanging like some kind of scum in the middle of the corridor. But she would be lying to herself then and poorly attempting to talk herself into believing that she didn’t care.

Yet she did, that’s why Y/N suddenly felt like the blood was curdling within her. Without administering that the words were spewing out of her mouth, she was already shouting after him:

“What’s your problem?” Mattheo stopped in his track, not turning around nor snorting at her, but simply standing still. He was waiting for her to continue. “Every time we are supposed to hang out with each other, every time I try to initiate the conversation with you, every time I smile and you ignore me, every time... I try so hard to be nice to you, try to act... civil, at least in front of our friends. But you always bring me down.” She didn’t even fathom how she had come up to him, but here she was – standing in front of Mattheo Riddle and cannoning the grudges that she had been keeping for years at him. It felt so... emancipating. “Even that one time when I cooked the brownies for Christmas, especially for you, and later you gave them away to Blaise. You know how humiliated I felt? That I spent time doing something for you, and you... so carelessly dismissed that? And, and... by the way, how much of the psychopath do you have to be as not to like brownies, on Merlin’s Beard!”

Her voice sounded so reedy in her ears, but she knew that she was just poorly trying to outshout the quiver in her voice or the prickling tears in her eyes. When a tear tumbled down her cheek, not wanting to unveil any accompanying emotions, she angrily wiped it away with a sleeve. Her gaze travelled downwards because she felt more waterworks coming about.

“I realize that you might hate me bu-”

“I don’t,” interjected Mattheo. For the first time, he shifted in his spot and when Y/N scrutinized his countenance, his lines had a note of desperation in them, earnestness that clearly stressed the truthfulness of his words. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t have to lie, Mattheo, I-”

“I don’t hate you,” he retaliated, sounding stern. And angry, in a way? Y/N must have misheard.

“Listen, Mattheo, I appreciate you trying to patch things up, but there’s no poin-”

But her sentence spiralled into the distant corners of the corridor, and Y/N piped down as Mattheo took a step closer, curtailing the distance between the two. Y/N cast her face downwards under Mattheo’s intense stare, but his hand travelled to her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. His thumb swiped over her cheek where the tear stain was, and it seemed like he was contemplating her dejection with a sour expression. For a moment, Y/N could swear that the air in her lungs disappeared altogether, and she just kept waiting for his next move, her eyes turned into the deer-in-the-headlights expression.

With the intent look, he bent over her, Y/N’s nostrils catching the scent of his cologne yet again, and he was leaning over to her ear. One of his hands moved over to her arm, clutching it lightly as if she was the most exquisite dainty porcelain set, and his mouth was just centimetres away from her earlobe. Y/N’s body went entirely rigid.

“I. Don’t. Hate. You,” he spelled out every syllable of his sentence, gravely, gutturally, slowly.

Something clicked in Y/N. No longer was she standing there spellbound, but maybe because of his intoxicating scent, maybe because of the intensity with which he had uttered his words, she was tugging him by his collar with both of her hands. She normally, a brief thought crossed her mind, wouldn’t have enough nerve to do something like that, but she kissed him -- her desperate, parched mouth travelled onto his.

For a moment, she asked herself if maybe she might be out of her mind for doing that or if Mattheo felt the same way she had this morning, or if he had ever considered her as more then... well, whatever they were. She soon found out the answer, however, because his lips momentarily detached themselves from her skin, and he was scanning her face with dilated pupils.

Instantly, Y/N pulled away and put her hands on the level with her head in the defensive mode like a child who had been caught red-handed while sneaking out the chocolate bars. The air was sucked out of her.

“I’m so, so sor-”

“It’s not the way I envisaged that...” His voice sounded positively berserk, feral even. Her hands pending mid-air, Mattheo drew them back to their previous place. In the middle of that maelstrom, Mattheo capitalized Y/N’s confusion by placing his hands on her lower back, flipped her so that now her body was positioned against the wall, moulded against him.

“And how have you envisaged that, exactly?” she muttered, her voice barely audible. She blinked a couple of times, disorientated, observing as a smirk curved on Mattheo’s lips.

“Let me show you how...”

His lips smashed against hers, and Y/N was happy to note that her feelings were requited after all. At first it started off gentle, but that quickly morphed into this voracious battle for dominance. They were devouring into each other's taste (Mattheo’s peppermint toothpaste), and he slid his tongue over her bottom lip, silently soliciting her for deepening the kiss.

She permitted, of course she did, parting her lips ever so widely, deliberating that if she ever were to die, that’s probably the only way she would have accepted the Grim Reaper in her warm, hospitable embrace. Much to her surprise, Mattheo took her by both of her wrists, pinned them above her head while his other hand was caressing the skin underneath her shirt.

His kisses were so fierce and zealous, Y/N couldn’t help it but feel the sudden yearning to be as close to him as possible; she draped one of her legs around his lower waist, aligning his body with hers as if they were the unity. It felt like they belonged together the whole life, just like yin and yang, and it was so ludicrous that they hadn’t realized that before.

His tongue flicked over her lips a couple more times, making the want pool around her abdomen, before he finally dipped lower and lower, reaching her neck and planting the sloppy kisses on it. It was as if though he couldn’t get enough of her taste, so ardent in his actions he was, and when he finally discovered the weak spot on her neck, he started sucking on it ever so roughly. Not quite able to quell it, she let out a small moan which apparently must have worked marvels on Mattheo because Y/N could suddenly sense the bulge of erection ramming against her thigh.

She was torn. From one side, she wanted to do this so badly, the knot in her lower parts specifically betrayed that, but she knew that it would be so wrong and thorny if they elevated that to another level.

Yet, it was so hard to focus with Mattheo’s lips leeched to her neck, signaturing her skin in the most conspicuous way.

“Don’t... you think... that we sho...uld talk this over... first?” Y/N rasped out with an evident difficulty.

“What’s there to talk about?” he muttered in between the kisses, his hand still circling on Y/N’s belly and dangerously nearing to her bra. “I’ve wanted this since forever. And clearly, so did you.”

Y/N released an amused, hoarse chuckle but that silenced her only for a few seconds before she finally deciphered his words. Particularly, the one resonated in her mind: forever. A paroxysm of joy sprung up in her.

“So, you felt like that for a long time?”

Mattheo, apparently cognizing that Y/N wasn’t going to relinquish the topic easily, halted. He withdrew both of his hands, instead placing them on each side of the wall where Y/N was residing. His chest was still moving rapidly, hair rumpled, and pupils almost entirely replacing the irises of his eyes. As Y/N examined him briefly, she thought she must be out of her mind for ceasing their make-out in the first place.

Too late for reversion, anyways.

After a few inhales, he finally started: “Well, haven’t you noticed? This entire time, that I-” With a small gloss of hesitation, he looked her in the eyes, assiduously. “I have been crazy about you. For so long. I don’t even remember how it feels to be sane, because whenever I’m around you I just... want to grab you and kiss you senseless.”

Y/N balked. Things got another notch inexplicable, and Y/N wasn’t sure anymore if she was dreaming and perhaps was stuck in a different universe where cats were the heads of the Ministry, Pansy was Gryffindor, and Mattheo was besotted with her. That would be more possible, from all Y/N could think of.

“Really?” A blush suffused her cheeks. “I thought you hated me! All those signs – always avoiding me, never talking to me... This didn’t necessarily appear to me as... what you just said.”

“Listen.” His palm covered hers and he squeezed it lightly a couple of times. “All of that was just a game. I didn’t want to weird you out nor did I know if you reciprocated my feelings. That’s why I tried to... avoid you, if you will.” He stopped for a moment, just staring Y/N, enchanted, as if there was nothing else in the world, both of them captured in slow-motion where nothing else around them mattered. The silence between them was only raptured by their quick breathing and the hammering in their chests. “In truth, the way you... move and talk, it’s all driving me mad. Fuck! I want to be with you, be able to kiss you whenever I desire, want to touch you and be there for you whenever you feel down... Y/N, I want to do so many things with you, and you don’t even know that. But how could you, right?”

As if pained, he closed his eyes with a microscopic grimace and he licked his lips, as if reminiscing the tastes of her on his skin. With guilt flaring up, Y/N cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked over it again and again. He seemed to be enjoying that as he leaned into her touch, his frayed nerves somewhat tranquilized.

“You know, I like you too,” Y/N said, and before Mattheo was able to protest as he opened his mouth with the clear intention of doing so, Y/N proceeded: “I really do! It was just that... I was trying to tell myself otherwise because I wasn’t sure of how you would react. And when you waltzed into the Great Hall today, looking like that, I realized that... I’ve been lying to myself. And- and are you mad?”

He furrowed. “Mad? What for?”

“For screaming at you earlier.” Y/N pursed her lips.

Gently smiling, he smooched her lips shortly, and Y/N fleetingly missed the heat of his body on hers. “No, I was a dick.” Another smooch. “Although, I would specifically like to highlight that I didn’t give these cookies away to Blaise. He stole them.”

With poorly faked disapprobation, she shook her head but soon enough, a grin adorned her features. “That shithead.”

Mattheo chuckled and he was about to kiss Y/N again when...

“There you two are, I was looking all over for you two and--” Pansy prowled from around the corner, clearly with annoyance painted on her face but when she discerned the view right in front of her, with Y/N positioned against Mattheo, she smirked. “Well, well... Y/N, I told you to sneak him into the Common Room, not to woo him.” Y/N palm-faced herself but Pansy, not taking on the social hints, continued: “But have it your way, I guess...”

“Pansy, I think we would like to be left alone for now and if you could-”

“No,” Pansy interposed, folding her arms together. “It’s your birthday party, Mattheo! It was supposed to be a surprise, but someone...” She leered at Y/N with a pointed look. “...clearly can’t control themselves and restrain her animalistic instincts, irrespective of the plan that her other friends set up.”

“In her defence--”

“And I’m not going to be a shitty friend who forgets about her best friend’s birthday! So, collect yourself a little and schedule bumping uglies on a different time.” With that, the pitter-patter of her stilettos faded away, while both Mattheo and Y/N stood stunned in their spot.

“That’s not how I planned it,” Y/N explained quickly. “Especially the “bumping uglies” part.”

Mattheo chuckled with hilarity sparkling in his eyes. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry about your birthday, we were supposed to act like we have forgo-”

“Doesn’t matter.” Mattheo smiled finally at her, covering her mouth with his. “It’s still the best birthday I have ever had.”

#Mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #Benjamin Wadsworth #Benjamin Wadsworth x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #Hogwarts #Harry Potter #pansy Parkinson #Theodore Nott #Draco Malfoy #blaise zabini #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle fanfiction #hp #one-shot harry potter

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semischarmed · 3 months

Text

Danny

Always have to keep you guys guessing ;) so this one is veeeeery different from my normal content, but I figured I’d put something tamer to balance out the upcoming Pt. 2 to that Thread story. It’s a bit long, but I didn’t feel like keeping two concurrent multi-parters. Let me know what you think!

=============

“So, it’s the necklace?” I asked the professor at the university. It was a wonder I was able to keep up with even half of the lecture that had just transpired.

“Something like that.” The professor replied back to our small group. “We’re all just a sea of electrical impulses. With this computer model, we can accurately track and mimic the exact electrical shocks needed to replicate a mind. Of course, the mind is so much data, the transfer-the upload needs to be instantaneous with an equivalent download- the university doesn’t give us enough grant money for computers that can store that much data, much less secure it. So, we needed biological means of storage. That’s why there’s an even number of participants”.

The room was utterly confused. For one, there was definitely an odd number of participants. Dr. Cohn was never known for dumbing down complex concepts, but even the smartest kids in class seemed stumped the past few hours. Maybe he didn’t have to go in that level of depth for his experiment.

Our group was a mix. It seemed like a sampling of the very best of the class, and a few average performers. I did find it weird they offered extra credit to students that probably didn’t need it. Sticking out like a sore thumb was Chad. He was the school quarterback, though no one was sure for much longer, as he was on academic probation. I couldn’t help but speculate with Kat, a top performer, on his placement. Combining our limited knowledge on the students in our class, and the school’s football team, we landed on this being some sort of extra credit that the university probably forced on poor Dr. Cohn. Ever the nosy one, Mackenzie piped in. “Of course they’d try to save their star quarterback. I heard 3 professors already quit trying to bring up his GPA. This is basically his last shot“.

And then there was Danny. Part of that “very best” group. Unlike the other students in the room, he seemed to take in the professor’s whole lecture and was deep in thought. His face lay still, serene. But I could see the intelligence behind his eyes spinning to life. I always liked when he did that, like he was chewing on an idea before spitting out the most brilliant insights. Or maybe I just like how the corner of his mouth would turn up into a small smile when he finished thinking things through. I caught myself staring again, thanking my luck that no one had seen. Mackenzie laughed a little behind me. I sighed, laughing a small defeat. Almost no one had seen.

“So it basically swaps our brains?” Danny inquired. He looked around the room, gauging our comprehension. That was when it clicked for me. He took note and let out a small smile. I smiled back. That was the other thing I liked about the guy. He always seemed to want everyone to succeed. This wasn’t the first time he’d thoroughly condense a difficult topic into a quick word or phrase the class could understand. His eyes smiled whenever he could recognize concepts “clicking” for people and I saw it do the same as my other classmates- even Chad- figured it out. I recoiled a little, from a nudge from Mackenzie. I sighed again, airing a “thank you” her way. I had been staring again.

“No, nothing like that! Could you imagine how difficult an operation like that would be? All this does is swap your mind.” Aaaand just like that, we were back to confusion. Danny smiled though.

“Got it. So your brain’s the hardware, your mind’s the software. The necklaces do a switcheroo and then new hardware, same software- or, vice versa, I suppose.” Back on track.

“Wait, how much of ‘me’ is in the hardware? Like my memories?” I blurted out, immediately growing red. That seemed to have garnered an approving smile from Danny. I grew redder.

The professor’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re thinking like a scientist.” He laughed before shrugging. “Who’s to say… we are running an experiment after all”. Dr. Cohn always was a messy one.

“So, uh, how long is it supposed to last?” Mackenzie asked.

“That’s the fun of it, once we’re paired, the switch can go for as little or as long you as want!” We. That threw me off a little. I caught his glance to Chad. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a part of this experiment too.” The professor said, with a smile that felt too wide. “Don’t forget to record your notes and thoughts into this log book. For privacy, they’ve been password protected- we’ll reconvene this little group in a year and just draft up a summary of your experiences from these books.”

There was an obvious question everyone’s mind. Thankfully, Kevin asked it. “So who’s swapping with who?”

The professor’s eyes lit up in excitement. “We’ve all been paired, randomized of course. I’ll leave the pairings to figure out when they’d want to swap. Just put on your necklaces at 6pm tonight and start your log books. After that, whenever either of you squeezes your necklace, the swap will ensue”. From the way the professor’s eyes kept darting to Chad, something told me it hadn’t been entirely random.

I thought through the possible pairings. Kevin was kind of cute, I guess. Though I wasn’t sure if it was just the airport effect with how limited our group size was. Kat or Mackenzie would just be weird. Mackenzie especially- that girl knows a little too much about me and lord knows what she’d do behind my wheel. Running down the list of people, there was Chad. Of course, who wouldn’t want to be in Chad’s shoes- I had to dispel a dirty thought that passed my mind. Everyone’s probably thinking it. The professor’s body wouldn’t be too bad either, I could always just pressure the faculty into giving me better grades, maybe boost the grades of my friends. And then there was Danny. Danny. My heartrate shot up instantly.

Sitting in my dorm room, I looked at the clock with a bit of fear. “5:55 pm,” it read. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. “5:59 pm”. Nope. There was nothing calm about this. I closed my eyes shut, as I felt the necklace whir a little. Looks like someone else already squeezed it.

Zzzip

=============

“Log book 1:

It was Danny. Holy fuck, I got to be in Danny.”

I stared at the journal entry. That was all I could manage to write with my shaking hands. I could hardly believe it. A lifetime can change in 5 minutes, apparently. My heart was still beating and my face still flushed when we switched back. He had a soccer game so our first meeting had to be short.

My first minute was just looking down at my new Danny-worn hands, breathing through his lungs, inhaling as much as I could of his room. I wanted to commit this man to memory. My logic-or, Danny’s logic perhaps, told me there would inevitably be more swaps to come, but my mind wouldn’t have it. Whatever piece of Danny I could get, however minuscule, I wanted to stretch every moment infinite.

I felt a sense of guilt wash over me, as my new Danny-worn package began to harden when I realized he was in soccer gear. I tried to shake off the feeling- I couldn’t do that to him. Then came the text. I recognized the number of course, it was my old body’s. “Hey man, glad to see we’re partners”. My heart stirred. “It’s Danny, but you probably already knew that”. To see him text me so casually froze me in place. “Anyways, I do have a game coming up, mind if we switch back?” I couldn’t even bring Danny’s hands to answer himself. “I’ll take that as a yes”.

Zzzip

And just like that, I was back. My hand clinging to my chest, breaths ragged.

Wait, Fuck. Was I still hard in his body when we switched back?

=============

Zzzip

“Log book 7:

Met up today. Joint gym day.

Gym feels better in Danny’s body. Unsure if exercise has a different effect on people’s bodies, or if it’s tied to our minds. Seems to be a lag in my emotions.”

I’m not really one to be consistent with exercise. I set the book down, and relocked it, panting as I had in our first switch, but this time due to Danny working my body to the brink.

I think he noticed, because he apologized profusely when I slumped in the bench to catch my breath in the locker room.

I can’t believe I had agreed to it. Danny wanted to test the effects of exercise with different bodies. He stated he wanted to see what it was like doing routine exercises in a different body. Does the body retain that physical memory? Or is it the mind? I only agreed because it was Danny. So, there I was, in the school gym staring at the door like a fish out of water.

I felt a reassuring hand on my back before my ears immediately shot red when I realized whose hand it was. “Do you have your log book on hand? Should probably write down notes immediately after the switchback”. I immediately panicked at thought that he wanted to compare notes, thinking back to my first entry but he seemed to have caught on to my thought process and immediately dismissed the idea. “It wouldn’t make sense to taint the data with outside factors. Danny was probably the only person that fully understood the professor’s entire experiment so I took his word for it.

When we swapped, I had to focus on not instantly growing hard. For someone seemingly so bookish, the guy was surprisingly fit. Walking to the treadmill, I felt every muscle brimming with power. My first run in his body. Euphoric. Danny was a well-oiled machine. Every component moving in tandem. Lungs drawing in and out powerful gusts of air. Eyes staring me in the mirror, furrowed in powerful determination, and legs gliding with a grace that did not diminish the power behind each foot. I lost myself in the exercise, content to just being inside his body, guided by his body. I finished the run with a heavy pant, knowing full well I’d be hard beyond belief at what lay before me. I eyed myself in the mirror, in sweat-laden body of my crush. The scent was indescribable. Like a pleasant musk basking in the damp earth. Was it always this good? Was this how other people felt when they exercised? I twirled the necklace around Danny’s neck, making sure to not squeeze, mentally thanking whatever gods there may be for this experience.

I looked back at Danny, in my body. His running form was a bit clumsy, but there was a confidence in them that I didn’t often see in myself. Maybe a trick of the light, or residual feelings from the run I just had but I was captivated. I honestly looked almost cute like this.

He finished, panting before immediately pulling out his book and writing a few notes. He beamed back at me, pointing at the necklace. Even in my body, that smile was unmistakably his. I smiled back, ready to swap once more.

Zzzip

Weird. I still felt the infatuation. I looked back at the body I had just inhabited, still feeling the butterflies in my stomach. It was Danny so I was used to those, but not immediately after a swap. The past few times it always took a second or two to readjust. Danny looked at me, a bit uncomfortable. No doubt it had been from the grave face I was making. I shook my head, not wanting to worry him. Or worse, force a premature end to this experience. “It’s nothing, just a hell of an exercise haha”.

This may be a bit of a problem.

=============

“Interesting, and you’re sure it’s residual feeling?” Said a slightly disinterested Chad, eyeing his dreamy biceps.

“Yes, when I.. uh.. felt angry in his body and switched back, my body did too.”

“Well it is a swap, of course so your mind returning to its body would feel the same things it felt…” The professor in chad’s body spoke in a slightly faraway tone, like there was something he’d rather be doing. “Though, it shouldn’t be this instant. It’s not physically possible unless…”

I winced, worried for the worst and hoping to remain Danny’s partner.

“This might be a bit of an issue if those necklaces are defective…” He then mumbled something about permanent effects on the mind. “If they are, we’d have to stop the entire experiment. It wouldn’t be right-“ The professor caught a glimpse of Chad’s body in the reflection of his door before looking back at me. “Look, maybe just limit the swaps to low pressure situations, and try to avoid high-emotion situations in case your ‘residual’ hypothesis is correct. Cause if that were true, it would mean you leave a little of yourself every time you swap.”

“Got it, professor”.

“Maybe keep this side effect a little secret for now. We wouldn’t want the others worrying and tainting the data,” Chad’s body spoke in an authoritative tone as his hands sauntered below the desk. “Oh, and please close the door on your way out“.

=============

“Log book 50:

Pain.”

We had been swapping fairly frequently, despite the professor’s warning. Danny was a drug I couldn’t shake. The guy was my kryptonite and he had no idea. Everytime we swapped, every moment we shared, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the professor’s words. Every swap back, I could feel my heart beating as wildly as my first time, stomach churning pleasantly. It was like a wave of sweetness whenever I had a chance to be Danny. Then, the guilt came soon after.

Danny seemed to like the spontaneity. Eventually, we settled on free-switching, aside from classes. Some days, I’d randomly switch and my eyes would focus on my homework, completed with a little smiley face drawn on the corner. I tried that little trick with him once, only to get a text back of his graded assignment, scored uncharacteristically low for the top performer, followed by another text “Nice try anyway lol”

=============

“Log book 190:

I hate you.”

Zzzip

“Danny, is something wrong?” The shock of the situation stopped me from initially processing anything I was seeing. My clumsy hands. I had been fumbling with my collar, when I accidentally initiated a swap. A wave of embarrassment hit, and then anger. Seething, bottomless anger.

I almost dropped the flowers Danny’s body had been handing her. Without explanation, I quickly squeezed the necklace to send me back.

Zzzip

I sat in stunned silence for a second, before the anger drew me back to my thoughts.

Who was I angry at? Of course it was a girl. He had to have been dating around. It was presumptuous to even think we were anything more than partners in a crazed professor’s experiment. And yet, I was still angry. Irrationally angry at Danny for not picking up on the hints, maybe angry at the professor for dragging me into this mess in the first place. But most of all, I was angry at myself.

I felt the buzz of a text, ears still heated. Danny again. “You ok?”

I sighed as reasoning took over and anger transformed into sadness. I wrote a quick note in the log book, then pulled my phone up before texting back. “Yeah”.

“Lol Claudia says hi”, came a text back. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to impart any jealousy in my response, but I was soon stopped by another text.

“If you wanted to meet my sister, you should have just asked lol”.

=============

“Log book 290

I’m stupid. I’m sorry. I’m stupid. I’m sorry.”

I’m so sorry. I said to Danny in my head, as I slumped in my chair. You’re so fucking stupid. I told myself. These past few months swapping back and forth with Danny had been a dream.

From something as simple swapping before brushing his teeth to even taking a class as him. I savored every single moment.

But as the experiment had been drawing to a close, and as I felt my time nearing and my guilt intensifying, other, less kind thoughts bubbled in my head.

What if I did ‘that’ in his body. What if I did it while thinking of my own body. I gulped. Danny didn’t know, and from what I could tell, he hadn’t suspected a thing. “Maybe I could make him like me.” Even just saying it out loud felt like a taboo. I could just imagine Danny’s disapproving face as I pondered corrupting our newfound friendship, and corrupting him at his core.

The devil on my shoulder continued. We’ve been swapping all this time. And he doesn’t notice. My dick stirred. He wouldn’t notice and you could train his body to fall in love with you.

No. No. I couldn’t do that to Danny. I eyed the near approaching date on the calendar- the date the experiment would end- and I gulped again. I pulled up a photo of him.

Darkness gripped at my chest, as I pondered my next step. And then I squeezed.

“Danny, I love you and I’m sorry.”

Zzzip

My heart, or rather Danny’s, began to beat faster and faster. I pulled up a fairly difficult puzzle before I swapped, so I knew I had some time with his flesh before he’d try to swap back.

I gingerly pulled down his shorts, staring at his bulge hungrily. Then I slowly teased out his dick, moaning at the feeling of flesh touching flesh. Being in his body, having this level of access to Danny. I was hard instantly.

It felt almost macabre, seeing his flesh move to my every whim, forced to feel my feelings. I wanted to etch myself into him as much as possible, and with every pump I moaned my original body’s name. It took all of the restraint in Danny’s body, which, apparently was a lot, to not burst. But one can only hold out so long, hearing one’s crush moan their name in delirious ecstasy. I sang my name in his resonant voice one more time, before flashing instantly to my body and back to his.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released his sticky white seed in what felt like the first cum of my life. I suppose, in a sense, it was. I hoped that sealed it. Conditioning Danny to me. The swaps were imperceptibly fast, and I took the lack of delay in emotions as a sign of success.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released a breath in Danny’s body I didn’t know I was holding, basking in the afterglow before immediately realizing what I had just done.

Guilt came out of me drop by drop. As his tears began to leave their marks on his shirt, I slowly began to clean up. The pleasure of the situation still clung to me, as I mournfully switched back. Then came another gut-wrenching wave of sadness. Danny, I’m so sorry.

I looked to the incomplete puzzle in front of me, laughing a little at his lack of progress to ease the sadness.

Then came another text from Danny. “Dude, that puzzle’s impossible”.

=============

“Log book 300:

Food definitely tastes different in a different body.”

“Look, just try them man” Danny said with a smile, holding a fry in his hand. And the necklace in another.

Only a few short days left before the experiment’s end. I made no mention of that night, nor the professor’s words to Danny.

Danny had, in fact, been coming by more often. Prompting more hangouts, initiating more switches. I was elated every time he asked. I even caught a few longer glances from his body, marinating in pleasure at seeing this new side of Danny. However happy I had been, underlying it all was the guilt of my deed.

Danny again held the fry out expectantly. I laughed slightly. “Haha, fine”.

Zzzip

I took a bite from his body. Yep, it was definitely a fry. My own body looked up at me, smiling a Danny-flavored smile before grabbing the half-bitten fry. “Now let’s control for this variable. Same fry,” he said, wiggling it in the air.

Zzzip

I stared at the fry covered in a bit of his saliva. Heaven. I looked back at him and nodded. As we parted ways, I couldn’t help my smile from peeking through.

He was right, it did taste better on my end.

=============

“So, we’re not getting paid”? I asked Danny, as we sat in the table. He had a few wine glasses in front.

It had been a full year since the experiment first started. Despite the general weirdness from the other groups swapping, everyone had been relatively well adjusted. Except for Chad, or whatever he’d be called now. A swapped Kat couldn’t help but spill the beans. Apparently, the professor had no obligation to offer the guy extra credit. He specifically targeted the quarterback for his experiment. What’s worse, he’d apparently created a newer version of the necklace. One that could overwrite and transmit. Chad’s frat brothers mentioned he was offered another credit for participating in a second experiment for this new necklace. After that, no one had seen either person. The pair had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the school scrambling to cover up everything. All most of us knew was one day we suddenly had perfect grades retroactively added for the past year, along with a very scary letter prompting a signature.

“The university isn’t going to do anything about this.” He said. I was still skeptical as I slowly eyed one of the wine bottles that once graced former Dr. Cohn’s shelf. “It’s the least they could do for all those, ethics violations”. He pulled the cork with a satisfying pop, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he handed me a glass. “Now c’mon, try this”.

I suppose alcohol had a way of loosening me up. “So…. we’re not getting paid”? I asked again, sarcastically this time. It had been a year, so talking to Danny felt easy. I thought back to my log book, fully intending on burning the thing. Danny shook his head.

“Hard to put a price on crimes against humanity. Or, something like that” he laughed. “The university just said to dump everything and basically forget that experiment ever happened.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I shrugged, knowing money or even perfect grades for a year held no candle to the experience of a lifetime I just had with Danny. I was afraid of the answer, but it had to be asked. “What should we do with these things?” I asked, looking at the necklace still gracing his beautiful neck. His eyebrows raised as he saw the same necklace gracing mine.

“I mean, by now, you’re pretty used to it, right?” He asked with an almost pleading look in his eye. There was something bugging him. I watched as he fiddled with his feet. “Maybe…” His ears turned bright red. It was riveting finally seeing this side oh him. More than that, it was downright cute. “M-Maybe” he stammered again. Danny took a deep breath to calm himself, though his scarlet face told all. “Maybe we can keep. Um. Swapping. Sometimes, sometimes I like being you, and sometimes I kind of like when you’re me.” He looked at me and smiled weakly, trying to change the subject. “A-Anyway, you need a place to stay next year, r-right? It kind of feels like we’ve already been roommates these past 12 months, what’s another 12?” His sweet words did nothing the dampen the guilt I felt in my betrayal. In any other circumstance, I’d have died happy just hearing that confession from him. Instead I could only think back to the professors words. I did live, at least partially, in Danny throughout this past year. It felt like a betrayal of myself to not come clean.

“Danny, listen. I think I need to tell you first, in your body…” My breath hastened, and I felt my stomach churn. How do you tell a guy what you’ve done with his body- *in* his body? Danny’s face frowned in concern as my bubbling emotions seemed to knock him out of his quick spell of shyness.

He smiled a little. “Look man, whatever you’ve done in my body, I’ve probably done too.” His smile widened. “Your body is mine, my body is yours. Call it even”. More words that would have swept me off my feet, had I not been confessing. More torture ensued.

“I went to the professor about it a few months ago and never told you” I continued. I was practically holding back tears. “Our necklaces were bugged, I think”.

“The professor said…” I gulped. “It was possible that when we switch, our minds don’t come through all at once.” Now tears did begin to swell. “You know how it’s supposed to take a second for your emotions to catch up. Well, when we switch, I still feel the same emotions…”. I gulped. “Since day 1, I think I’ve overwritten your, um, preferences”. Danny’s poker face felt like a dagger in my heart. It’s a face I often made in his body when I was in deep thought, so I knew he had to have been processing to the same conclusion. I could practically see the gear turning in his head. Click.

Face still an enigma, Danny waited a moment and then asked a simple question. “When did you tell the professor?” Click.

I sniffled as I laid it bare in front of him. “5 months ago. Danny, I’m sorry! I dunno, I just thought maybe… maybe if we kept switching, if our minds kept being in each other’s bodies. Maybe if a little piece of how I felt kept lagging behind, you might have-“ Now the gear was fully spinning and I saw the realization hit his face. I had no idea what he was going to do. Punch me? Maybe. Run away in disgust? Likely. Instead, Daniel had done something equally surprising. His hand rested on my shoulder in a reassuring fashion. Then that same hand motioned me forward.

My memory of the next moment felt like a million moments in one. It was something so outside my realm of possibilities, my brain simply couldn’t process. The whiplash hit my senses all at once. Sweet but a bit salty. A moment of quietness before the background sounds of the campus slowly drizzled back in. The scent of fresh laundry and damp earth. My eyes took even longer to adjust from black to red to an image slowly refocussing. Last was my brain, which had been stunned into silence. I sat back in shock, repeating the same phrase over and over in my head. Danny just kissed me.

He laughed, eyes twinkling and mouth pulled into a smile, beaming in the way that always made my heart swoon. “That theory’s bogus. Trust me. I haven’t felt any different”. He smiled again, sheepishly this time, before fishing something from his backpack’s large pocket. He looked at the item in front of him, hand slightly shaking in hesitation before making his decision. Slowly, he held up his own log book, flipped to the very first page:

“Log Book 1:

<3 ”

=============

#Male body swap #body swap

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oddlyded · 1 year

Text

The thin line between jealousy and insecurity | Kylian Mbappe x reader

y/n didn’t know what had gotten her boyfriend so worked up. it took her some time to realise that getting with some (male) friends on his day off wasn’t something he was particularly happy about

You briefly watched as your boyfriend went about the room, not looking at you in the eye. Now while you’d normally be all up in his face asking him what has swiped off the relaxed smile he’d normally wear when he’s got a day off, you were busy furiously typing the details of the friendly get together you were late to. You were meeting your boys in 30 minutes and the restaurant you all agreed to have lunch at was going to be a 40 minutes ride judging by the awful traffic you were caught in while coming from university.

“I’ll be home by 10. Grand max, c’est promis. We might decide to watch a movie afterward, but I’ll keep you updated and I’ll let you know if there’s a change of plans.”

“Mmm,” was all he said. He was sat down on the bed, fixing an invisible point with a stare that sent chills to your bones.

You paused in the middle of putting on your shoes. “Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, in a voice that clearly showed he wasn’t.

“Did something happen with training yesterday?”

“No.”

“— Well, did you have a fight with a teammate or something?”

He shook his head, still zoned out. You were starting to get annoyed at his vague responses, and you had no time to get answers out of him. Still, you wanted to make sure that everything was alright with him before taking off.

“Darling, are you sure you’re alright?’

He was still not meeting your eyes. With a slight smile your way, he nodded. Though very feebly. You narrowed your eyes at him, but another message popping up in the group chat distracted you from interrogating him further. After some back and forth between you and Omar that had you giggle, you raised your head to find Kylian finally looking at you with an odd expression plastered on his face, his teeth gritted in frustration.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

You blinked at him. He’d already turned to his phone, clearly not interested in seeing you off. You wondered if it was the upcoming match that had him strained like that, since he usually got all worked up when he was particularly stressed. But thing is, you’ve never seen him like that — he was acting as if you had personally wounded him or something. Still, you opted to leave the house in a good mood, and with a slight huff you went to him and kissed the top of his head, gently stroking his cheek.

Surprise surprise! He actually leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. You casually asked him if he wanted something to eat now that you were going out, and his relaxed posture became tense once more.

“No, I’m good.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, snatching your hand away. “Right, there’s still leftovers from last night’s lasagna in the fridge if you change your mind.”

“Mmm.”

Again with the monosyllabic words. Right, off you went. But not before rolling your eyes and making your exasperation loudly known by raising your hands in the air.

The afternoon with your boy friends went well, though your mind frequently wandered to your boyfriend, thoughts of what had transpired to make him so moody becoming more confusing and dramatic as time progressed. It was making you on edge, and you worried for him. When it was finally time to get home, you stopped to buy his favourite pastries, hoping that now he’d be more open to talk about what’s going on if you showed up with a clear white flag.

You came home to find him sat when you last left him, eyes glued to the tv. The only greeting you received was a small hi, but as opposed to before you left he was now staring at you hotly, something dark glinting in his eyes.

“How was the evening?”

“Fine.”

“Mmmm.”

You glared at him. “Are you finally going to tell me what’s clouding your mind?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Right. Mind then explaining why you’ve been in a shit mood since breakfast?”

“I’m not!”

“Are too! You’re barely talking — barely even looking at me. You haven’t answered any of my messages, and don’t you dare make some dumb excuses about not having seen them, Kylian. You’ve been on your phone for the past five hours, I could see you online!”

“The past five hours where you’ve been god knows where!”

You frowned at him. “Is that it? Is that the reason behind the silent treatment?”

He opened and closed his mouth, opting to snuggle deeper into the bed and cross his arms. You sighed, running a hand on your face. You decided not to give into anger and went to move towards him, sitting down so close that he couldn’t ignore you no longer.

The silence stretched on and on, and you could tell that he was getting restless, but all you did was silently motion for him to speak up first. For a moment, it seemed as if he wouldn’t, as if he were content with having a staring battle where no one would discuss the issue glaring obviously at the both of you — with having no one give a voice to his worries. So unlike his usual self — he was always one to resolve things quickly. Frankly, you didn’t know why he was dragging this.

“It’s like you didn’t even care that we had a whole day to ourselves.”

That was certainly not where you thought the conversation was going, and you started feeling the first signs of indignation seeping in. “Of course I cared!”

“Well that wasn’t the impression I got,” he bit back, sourly. “I had a whole evening planned for us. I — I just —”

“Mon cœur,” you started softly, when he stopped dead in his tracks and opted to once more glower at the tv. The only reason why you didn’t start berating him was because he looked genuinely hurt, “it’s not like that, really. I didn’t know —”

“Clearly it mattered shit to you —”

“That’s not fair —”

“And you met with those boys and posted all those stories while I was waiting for you at home —”

“I am allowed to go out with friends!”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well then explain it to me —” You raised a hand when he opened his mouth to interrupt “— instead of attacking me. Kylian, my love, I didn’t know you had something in mind for us today. You know I’d have canceled otherwise. I wouldn’t even have entertained the whole thing to begin with! And I never get to see the boys — my friends — and so when they offered to take the train to Paris to see me I was delighted.”

“Yes, you showed how delighted you were alright.”

You scoffed at him. “Unbelievable.”

He tensed up when you got up. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you!”

He grabbed your wrist and had you pinned to his chest in the second it took you to turn from him. “You’re not leaving me again.”

“I am if you continue to act like an arse.”

He thinned his lips, staring up at you from where you were positioned on his chest. His eyes were very, very dark and there was something like desire brimming up on the surface. You decided to ignore how handsome he looked and stared back at him, unfazed.

“The blonde dude seemed awfully touchy.”

You blinked down at him. “You mean Zak?”

“The one with the blue sweater.”

You paused, incredulous. Yep, that’s Zak alright. “Darling, he’s gay.”

You saw him frown in confusion before relaxing. Somehow, this made you angrier. “He is?”

“Yes. And Omar is my eleven years old best friend. I sincerely doubt he’s interested in me like that — frankly, he seemed more into Zak.”

He was fighting off a smile, you could tell. You hit him, hard. “That’s not funny.”

But his relief was apparent, even when he scowled at you as he massaged his chest in mock hurt.

“Do you know the number of time I told you that?” You snapped at him. “And it doesn’t even matter. You’re supposed to trust me.”

“I trust you! Really, I do — it’s just —” he sighed, then sat upward. You were sitting on his lap now, and he angled your body so that your faces were mere itches away from each other. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Then you should’ve told me that, instead of ignoring me all morning.”

“I am sorry,” he admitted in a small voice, suddenly looking sheepish and, dare you say, timid. Whatever dark mood he’s been in seemed to break off when he realised just how angry you were at him. “But you were gushing about how happy you were to see them and — don’t look at me like that — I dunno, it got me in a mood. I know it’s stupid and I’m overreacting. I shouldn’t want the whole integrity of your attention. Sometimes I do though and I feel like I haven’t had some quality time with you since forever. It’s just felt like you didn’t really consider that.”

“So what was your plan exactly? Because ignoring me and being snappy all day is not the way to get the quality time you so ‘wanted’.”

He flinched. There was a sudden dawning realisation on his face of just how snappish he’d been. He cleared his throat before croaking out an apologetic “I’m sorry.”

He paused for a moment, studying you. Hesitantly, as if he were afraid that you’d get more annoyed with him if he touched you, he slowly raised a hand to cup your face. When you didn’t move away he patted his way through your face, his hands finally settling on your waist.

“I should’ve said something, I know. I just saw them cozying up to you and I lost it, and it felt too childish to bring it up so I decided to just get on with it. Will you forgive me?”

“If you promise to always tell me what’s going on in your mind — no matter how childish it may seem to you. It’s not to me, I promise. I would’ve brought you along had I known.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wanted you to rest and I thought that was your plan as well. You’ve been training restlessly for the past three weeks with no days off, Ky. You are allowed to laze around all day in your pyjamas without having a care in the world.”

He nodded, snuggling up to your chest, lightly kissing your collarbone. His hands on your waist were getting suggestive, protective, harsh against your revealed skin. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way he slid his fingers under your top, and he looked up at you sheepishly. You almost laughed at the expression on his face — he was suddenly so lost in your eyes, he who couldn’t meet them a few hours ago — but you managed to remain serious in order to get your point across.

“And I value our time together the most, darling. I do. You know I do. I love you. So much. I always think of you. Always.”

His reaction was immediate. You two weren’t in the habit of saying those magical three words, opting instead to let your actions speak volumes of the feelings and care you had for each other, and so it always made the moments they were uttered in so intimate.

Red colored his cheeks – whatever he thought you were going to say, he was definitely not expecting that. His hands froze in their quests of sliding down your tights and he brought one back to gently caress your hair, the other one making its way to your waist and bringing you even closer to him. You had to wrap your arms around his neck to make room for yourself.

“I know. Of course I know. I’m sorry, I am. I should’ve communicated better. It’s just that I love you so much that sometimes it scares me just how worked up I get over little things like this. How much I miss you and how much you haunt my every thoughts. I like to seem self-assured so that you can come to me for anything —”

“I can. I do. You being jealous doesn’t make you any less the man I would go to to talk about my problems. But I want the same treatment in return. I want you to come to me if you feel insecure, if there’s something affecting you — especially when it comes to me. I’d never make you feel like it’s dumb.”

“I know. But it was dumb. I was dumb.” In a blink of the eye he had you against your back, trailing kisses along your jaw, with you stifling a surprised gasp. “I’ve been thinking of all the things I’d do to you, it was driving me mad. And I was getting so angry, knowing I let you slip earlier without showing you just how much I’ve missed you. I can be such an idiot. I know I’ve said it a couple of times already but I’m sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but I’m definitely eating the pastries I got you,” you said, and he chuckled against your neck. You let yourself smile. There was still so much you two had to talk about, but right now, snuggled against him, there was only one thing on your mind. “You still got time to show me just how much you’ve been missing me, though.”

He smiled — that carefree, wide smile you loved so much, tinged with a cockiness you secretly found absolutely attractive — and kissed you, hard.

also, open to requests y’all :))

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe headcanon #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe fanfic #football imagines #jealousy #jealous kylian #fluff #miscommunication

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nanaoise08squad · 6 months

Text

Just let my brain wander a bit instead of actually working today. I haven't finished the game yet, I'm still very early into act 3 so please no spoilers! Not proofread, just incurable Astarion brain rot:

Do you think that Astarion sits at the large window of the cottage he shares with Tav, the shade casting shadow over the edge of the house just enough for no sunlight to reach him, while he watches them tend the garden each afternoon? A small, adoring smile resting softly on his face as he watches them water the herb garden, the sunlight bathing their features in an ethereal glow he used to be able to see much closer. His gaze is transfixed on every small movement they make, commiting the way the light catches the highlights of their hair and the glow of their skin in its radiance to memory. He remembers how the summer sun brought out the freckles across your nose, how he wishes he would have taken the time to count them all while lying under the midday sun with you. It seems like a lifetime ago that he felt the suns embrace, it's warmpth forbidden to him once again after everything that had transpired. At times, he almost wished that the tadpole hadn't gifted him the ability to walk in the sunlight. To know such freedom and beauty, only to have it taken away again, part of him would always wonder if he'd made the right choice. His smile fades for just a moment as his cold hand brushes against his arm, the lack of warmth all the more present as he reminces about what it felt like to be in the sun.

His gaze had wandered miles away, lost in thought when your laughter brings him back. A giggle ripples through the air as you gently chastize your feline companions and tell them to return inside, shaking your head as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You look back to him, your smile so bright and warm he swears that it rivals the very sun he yearns for so desperately. He would give up a million sunrises just to see you gaze at him so tenderly, one million more days in the sun to hear you call him "love" each night. It was the right decision.... trusting you with his fragile heart was the right decision. You had wandered into his life so unexpectedly, nestled your way into his long cold heart so perfectly...despite his best efforts. This life, cloaked forever in shadows it may be, was worth every struggle it took to be here. Through pain, loss, fear and the demons that haunted him, you never turned your back on him. Love was a mere concept until you came along and wrecked his careful planning....now he'd never been so happy to see his plan fall apart. Despite impossible odds, you have both survived the worst and here you stood. He could hardly believe it some days, thought himself entirely too blessed to wake up beside you each morning. To call you his lover, his equal, the object of all of his desires.

"Are you alright my love?" You ask softly as you make your way inside,setting an armful of herbs for hanging onto the kitchen counter. He looked lost in thought, his mind transfixed on some unspoken puzzle he'd yet to reveal. Even so, he moves to wrap you in his arms quickly, cradling your body with such care as he feels the warmth of the sun still on your skin. He makes a point to hold onto you a little longer than usual today, tucking his head into your shoulder as he breathes in the scent of sun and earth on your skin. He may never walk in the light again, but the world is much less dark with you here in his arms. He leans back slightly, smiling as he sees the freckles he's so found of starting to become more numerous across your nose from the summer sun. His hand cradles your face, thumb caressing gently over your warm cheek as his lips press softly to yours. A small hum bubbling from his chest tickling against your lips as he breaks to gaze into your eyes.

"I am now, darling" he smiles lovingly, stealing a few more kisses before he reluctantly releases you from his arms. His heart will never beat again, but it belongs to you completely, just the same. He vows to show you every day how grateful he is to get to watch you dance happily in the sunshine, each night whisper his devotion to you evermore as he holds you close~

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #i just want him to be happy #angst but also cozy domestic comfort?

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x-uno · 7 months

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Stolen Glances and Culinary Charms. PT 4

notes : OKAY,, I'm doing a double upload to make it up for giving y'all a cliffhanger last chapter!!! Will be posting the other one later!! ~ so look out for that one! hehe

<< 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 >> | 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

YOU WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING with a throbbing headache, a dry mouth, and a vague sense of unease. The memory of the previous night is hazy at best, and you struggle to piece together what happened after the surreal dance with the mysterious figure.

The first thing you notice is that you're in your shared bunk with Nami. It's a relief to be back on the ship, surrounded by the familiar sounds and smells, but the memories of the night before start to flood back.

The only clear memory that haunted your mind was the image of Sanji dancing with another girl.

The jealousy and insecurity stemming from that image weighed on your chest like an anchor, making your mood grumpy and your thoughts cloudy. You couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between you and Sanji, even though you couldn't remember the details of what had transpired afterward.

As you sit up, the hangover hits you like a ton of bricks. You groan and clutch your head, trying to alleviate the pounding pain. The room spins for a moment, and you wonder if it's a punishment for drinking too much.

Gingerly, you make your way to the ship's kitchen, hoping to find something to ease your hangover. The crew is already up and about, and they greet you with smiles and cheerful morning greetings. But you can't shake the heavy feeling that's settled in your chest.

Sanji is there, too, preparing breakfast. His attention is on the meal he's cooking, and you can't help but steal glances at him. The memory of him dancing with that girl, his smile and charm, gnaws at you. You can't bring yourself to talk to him, not with the grumpiness and insecurity that's settled in your mind.

Breakfast is served, and you join the crew at the table. The food is delicious, as always, thanks to Sanji's culinary skills. However, you can't fully enjoy it, the hangover making every bite and sip feel like a challenge.

“Hey, Y/N . . . Uh - you alright?” Usopp was the first to speak.

“Swell.” You say with gritted teeth, the grip on your fork tightening as you stab at your food.

Usopp exchanged a glance with Nami and then looked back at you, clearly concerned.

“You sure you're okay, Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.

You forced a smile and nodded, though it was clear that your gritted teeth and the intensity of your gaze were anything but reassuring. “Yeah, just a hangover is all.” you replied, your voice slightly strained.

Sanji had anticipated that you might wake up with a hangover, particularly given the enthusiastic way you had indulged in drinks the previous night. The memory of how you had insisted on more drinks, his own amusement at your spirited antics, was still fresh in his mind.

With his usual chivalry and concern for the well-being of the crew, he swiftly prepared a dish of freshly cooked eggs. Their warmth and nourishing qualities were a time-tested remedy for hangovers. He placed the steaming plate in front of you, his signature warm smile gracing his features.

“Here, Y/N,” he said, his voice gentle and comforting, “a little something to help with your headache.”

You met his gaze, your eyes still clouded by the remnants of your hangover. His kindness tugged at your heart, but the unease and jealousy that had plagued you since the night before still lingered in the corners of your mind. Despite the warmth of his gesture, you found it difficult to fully embrace the comfort he offered.

As the crew carried on with their meal, a palpable tension lingered in the air, like a heavy fog that refused to dissipate. It was evident to all aboard the Going Merry that something weighed on you, casting a shadow over the cheerful morning routine.

Though their concern was unspoken, it hung in the air like an unasked question. Each crew member felt the unease that had settled among them. They exchanged subtle glances and shared whispered conversations, their worry for you etched in their expressions. Despite the curiosity and the genuine care they held for you, no one dared to intrude on your private turmoil.

After you had pushed your food around your plate, feigning an appetite you didn't possess, you rose from your seat. Your departure was as quiet as your arrival. With a nod to the crew, you left the table, your absence an unspoken invitation for them to carry on without you.

Zoro couldn't help but raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he watched you leave. His curiosity, as always, was as straightforward as his speech. He muttered with a hint of bewilderment, “What's her deal?”

Luffy, his mouth still full of food, contributed to the conversation with a nonchalant shrug.

“Beats me,” he mumbled between bites, “maybe she ate something weird.”

Zoro couldn't contain his exasperation at Luffy's seemingly simplistic assessment of the situation. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not everything is about food, you know,” he retorted, leaning back on his chair.

Nami focused her inquisitive gaze on Sanji, who had been the central figure in the previous night's events. “Did something happen last night?” she asked, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and genuine concern. “Sanji, you were with her all night.”

Sanji, who had been quietly tending to some dishes, paused for a moment, his brows furrowing as he thought of last night. He was aware that something had unsettled you, and he knew that he needed to address the situation, even if it meant sharing the hazy memories of the previous night.

“There was a dance, and we spent some time together,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “But it was just a moment, nothing more.”

Nami's gaze shifted between Sanji and the empty seat where you had been sitting. She knew there was more to the story, but she also respected your privacy. “Well, something seems to be bothering her,” she remarked.

Sanji's jaw tightened, a mixture of frustration and concern in his eyes as he realized the impact of the previous night on you. “I'll talk to her,” he promised, determined to help you work through your feelings and put the unspoken tension to rest.

The day goes on and you can't help but feel distant. You respond to your crewmates with short, monosyllabic answers, and your headache and unease keep you from fully immersing yourself in the adventures and camaraderie you usually relish.

When Sanji attempted to strike up a conversation, you couldn't help but respond with curt and distant replies. The unease and jealousy that had taken root in your heart kept you at arm's length from him, despite his genuine attempts to bridge the gap.

“Sanji, I'm fine. Can we not do this?” You sighed, the frustration evident in your voice as you tried to brush aside his concerns.

Sanji, his concern for you clear in his eyes, hesitated to press further, but the unspoken questions and a growing sense of unease weighed on him. “But -”

“Sanji - seriously. Drop it.” you interrupted, your tone final, leaving him with a sense of helplessness and unanswered questions.

Zoro, watching from a distance, muttered, “This is painful to watch.” his eyebrow quirked as he observed the situation.

Nami, never one to resist an opportunity to meddle in matters of the heart, leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Eh,” she said with a sly smile, “They just need a little push.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow at Nami's statement, his skepticism evident in his expression. “A little push? With those two, it's more like a cannonball to the heart.”

Nami's grin widened as she shrugged, her confidence undeterred. “Well, Zoro, sometimes you need a cannonball to break down the walls people build around themselves. Besides, it's about time they figure it out.”

“Figure out what?” Luffy chimed in.

Ussop shot a glance at Luffy and deadpanned, “Seriously, man?” He gestured to Sanji and you with both hands, as if the situation should speak for itself.

As the day progresses, the hangover slowly starts to subside. You find yourself retreating to your bunk, wanting some solitude to sort out your thoughts and emotions.

“Stupid Sanji.” you muttered under your breath, your tone a mixture of exasperation and affection, a dichotomy that had become all too familiar. The object of your thoughts was both a source of irritation and a wellspring of attraction. His charm, his suave demeanor, and yes, even his immaculate hair, had always held an undeniable allure for you.

The weight of confusion and insecurity bore down on you like a heavy anchor, and in your bunk, alone with your thoughts, you couldn't contain the frustration any longer. The pillow, your silent confidant in moments of despair, became a temporary vessel for your pent-up emotions.

With a muffled scream, you buried your face in the fabric, muffling the sound of your anguish as you unleashed a torrent of emotions into the cushion. The muffled cry served as a release, a catharsis for the tangled mess of feelings that had knotted within you since the previous night.

“Okay, Y/N spit it out.” A voice suddenly spoke up - Nami. She was leaning against the door, her arms folded, she fixed you with an unyielding gaze. Her expression conveyed both curiosity and encouragement, urging you to release the pent-up emotions that had been plaguing you.

You met Nami's determined gaze, her presence a reassuring anchor in the sea of uncertainty that had surrounded you. Her understanding expression encouraged you to open up, even if you were unsure of the validity of your own feelings.

Taking a deep breath, you confessed, “I don't know, Nami... It's stupid. I don't know why I'm so pent up about it.”

“Y/N, it's not stupid.” Nami replied, her voice gentle and reassuring. “We all have moments that bother us, and it's perfectly normal to feel this way. Sometimes, talking about it can help you understand your own feelings better.”

Your shoulders relaxed slightly, and you appreciated Nami's calming presence. “I just... I saw Sanji with another girl last night, and it's been bothering me more than it should. I can't even remember much about what happened afterward, but that image is stuck in my head.”

Nami couldn't help but sigh in exasperation. The complexities of love and emotions, especially when it came to Sanji, were something she had become well-acquainted with during her time as a member of the Straw Hat crew. She knew all too well that Sanji's feelings for you were far from a secret, and it sometimes left her both amused and bemused by the situation.

“This guy, I swear.” she muttered under her breath, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips. While she could understand your feelings and the turmoil that had arisen from the events of the previous night, Nami also knew that untangling the web of emotions involving Sanji was a task in itself. But, she was determined to help you find your way through it.

Nami's expression softened, and she leaned in closer. Her words were filled with a sense of wisdom and genuine concern. “Look, Y/N, I know this might be complicated, especially with Sanji involved, but you can't keep this bottled up. You need to talk to him. See where his head is at. You might be surprised.”

As the days turned into weeks, the growing distance between you and Sanji became undeniable. Determined to clear the air and address the tension that had settled between you, you made several attempts to find a moment alone with him. However, every time you approached, he seemed to find a reason to excuse himself or was conveniently engrossed in tasks around the ship.

His avoidance was frustrating and left you feeling dejected. You had worked up the courage to talk to him about the issue, but it was as if he was actively avoiding the conversation, leaving you with a growing sense of uncertainty and frustration.

With every missed opportunity to discuss your feelings and concerns, the gap between you and Sanji widened, creating a palpable tension that neither of you could ignore. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder how you would ever bridge the gap that had grown between you.

@narutoskz @honnelander @browneyedhufflepuff

taglist: reply to be added !

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #opla #a bunch of real idiots in love #repressed emotions in a trenchcoat

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blessedwithabadomen · 2 months

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in love with the mess - day six

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : angst, fluff

length : 4k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3 @kageyasma

a/n : hope you're prepared for a bit of angst, I hope I managed to do it justice because it's definitely the genre I'm least used to, but here we go! enjoy and leave a reblog or a comment and I'll love you forever 🥰💗

•••

day six

I barely slept. One reason was the lingering alcohol in my veins making me so dizzy that closing my eyes seemed like a punishment. The other was the fact that my brain was desperately trying to make sense of everything that had transpired that night. I knew, I was fully aware, that this had been what I’d been wanting in a way. But fantisising about these things and actually going through with them were two entirely different things.

I had kissed Noah. I had kissed Oli. They had kissed each other.

It sounded perfect on paper or in a romance novel that was guaranteed a happy ending, but the more the morning light emerged and hit me through the curtains I’d never closed, the more the reality of it weighed on me. Last night, we had crossed some lines that we’d only been eyeing before. Kissing Oli had felt more intimate than all the stuff we’d gotten up to before. As far as I knew, last night also marked the first time Oli and Noah had gotten that close.

How were we going to behave around each other now? We could go and blame it on the alcohol, but I didn’t think that anyone in this constellation could honestly say that it wouldn’t have happened anyway, at some point in time. The temptation had been lingering between us for days. Maybe longer in some cases.

I turned off the alarm on my phone as it blared through the silent room. It hurt my head. A noisy reminder that life had to go on. That I would have to face both of them, without any idea of how they would react. If they regretted it. If they would pull back now. If everything would change for the worse. Or the worst.

My tired body dragged itself through the motions. Shower. Getting dressed. Packing my stuff. No flattering outfit today, just a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable hoodie.

I didn’t meet anyone in the hallway or the lift or the lobby. A few people were already around in the car park, loading in everyone’s stuff, mingling about, smoking another cigarette. I pulled the hood up into my face. I’d avoided the mirror pretty successfully this morning, but I just knew I looked rough. Some people knew I’d been out with Lia last night and they would no doubt love to get some mocking remarks in about my perceived hangover. I didn’t have the nerves for it.

A glimpse of Noah.

My feet immediately stopped dead in their tracks. It shouldn’t have been so surprising, really. Of course, he would be around sooner or later.

He looked just as beat up as I felt. I wished I knew if it was because of the late night or if he’d stayed up wondering too. He looked at me for a second, face paler than I remembered, dark circles appearing under his eyes, and gave me a wave. No smile, no urge to move toward me, no words, just his hand in the air without much conviction.

I waved back, unsure of how to proceed, but someone patted Noah on the back to get his attention. Free from the burning stare, I got onto the bus. I was armed with a few personal things, when I climbed the stairs and made a beeline for my bunk. There was no noise around me. Either everyone was still getting ready or people were being extremely quiet.

The curtain on Oli’s bunk was drawn shut. I tried hard to remember if he’d left it like that the day before or if it was an indication that he was here already, but I came up short. It didn’t matter, in the end. I slipped into my own bunk and closed the curtain.

Unless Oli decided to go the route of “pretending nothing at all happened”, he probably wouldn’t talk to me anyway. I’d known him long enough. He was the type to battle things on his own for as long as the world allowed him to, before he would talk to anyone or ask for help. I felt like the three of us had that in common. It wasn’t the greatest mix of people when it came to bumps in the road.

I pushed the thoughts away, just like I ignored the slight lump in my throat that I refused to let grow. Picking up my phone from where it had burrowed in my bunk, I took the plunge to check my regular mails again, something I’d been avoiding since getting on this tour. It held the usual disappointments.

A rejection from a job I’d applied for that would have started right after tour.

A mail from my father which got deleted unseen.

Another rejection.

Spam.

An old employer saying they didn’t have any capacities for me any time soon.

More spam.

A mail from my roommate.

The last one took me by surprise, but the content cleared it up immediately. “Got a new phone, lost your number but found your e-mail address on some junk paper in the kitchen. Call me when you can.” With a groan, I put my phone away again. I didn’t know what this was about, but it couldn’t be good. We both weren’t terribly keen on each other, but it was the only place in London I could find that only had one other person living there instead of four, so it seemed like a good deal. I made a mental note to call her later, without much motivation.

Turning on my side, I snuggled into the relatively comfortable bunk. Exhaustion draped itself over me like a heavy blanket. I fell asleep, the hours awake finally catching up with me, and was granted a dreamless few hours.

•••

When I woke up, the curtain to my bunk was disturbed, not closed all the way anymore and I wondered if I’d moved it in my sleep or if someone had come to check up on me. If it was the latter, it was probably someone trying to figure out if I was actually on the bus or if they’d left me in Manchester by mistake. I thought that wouldn’t be all too bad. However, we had arrived in Glasgow, apparently, and there was work to do. With a heavy sigh, I heaved myself out of my quarters. Time to check in to the hotel, check on Oli, get to the venue, soundcheck, the usual.

I found Oli in the hotel lobby, getting his room key. I quickly waved down another receptionist to get my own, only half-heartedly listening to their introduction to the hotel and then legged it after him, only just managing to make it into the lift before the doors closed. I wasn’t going to take silent treatment for an answer. I’d accepted that kind of behaviour more often than I’d like to admit in my life, I wasn’t going to go down that road with Oli.

The doors closed behind me, leaving the two of us in silence. I mustered him, trying to figure out where we were at, where his mind was, how to approach whatever had shifted between us. He didn’t look overly stressed. Or like he hadn’t slept. But I knew he also had a talent to hide it well. My brain was fumbling over what words to choose when he finally looked at me.

Then, without warning or giving me time to prepare, Oli was on me, kissing me hard and fast, and I couldn’t do anything but wrap my arms around him and reciprocate. I helplessly moaned into his mouth, completely at his mercy, and then the lift dinged and both of us flew apart just as the doors opened to our floor.

I stepped out of the lift ahead of him, momentarily confused as to where to go, the sudden kiss having erased all memories of my room number, but Oli passed me by easily, walking into whatever direction I figured was probably the correct one for me too.

“Oli!” I called after him, but he didn’t stop until he was at the door. I watched as he unlocked it and shoved his suitcase in so it would stay open. “Aren’t we going to talk?”

“What about?” I could practically see the shield he had put up. It was a sight that hadn’t greeted me in years, taking me aback and confusing me. Him being distant, hiding away, not letting me in, not letting me see the real him felt like a punishment. But it was exactly what he was doing, hanging about in the middle of the doorframe, an arrogant look on his face that I knew was nothing but a mask. I hated this side of him as much as it worried me.

“Last night? Starting with the fact that we kissed?”

He cocked his eyebrow at me with a smirk, but it wasn’t honest and it wasn’t reassuring. It was annoying. “Yeah, and? We just did again. Ain’t that what we’d been working towards? Having a little snog? Well, there you go.”

I swallowed my anger at the way he was presenting things, twisting what was happening, downplaying it. It took a deep breath to convince me to stay calm. He was doing this to keep himself from being vulnerable, not to be an arsehole, I tried to remind myself. Unfortuantely, it didn’t help that he sounded and looked every bit like a cunt in that moment.

“What about Noah then? Also just a game to you?”

There was a flicker of something on his face, something that was threatening to break through his facade, but he quickly regained his composure.

“What if it is?”

I didn’t have an answer to that, stunned by the audacity. Both of us knew that he was lying, but he was clinging to his version of things so adamantly it made me want to punch his face. I couldn’t tell where I found the strength to keep myself from doing it. Probably the idea of what this whole mess could do to Noah.

I needed to talk to Noah.

“Right, that it?” Oli asked, apparently bored out of his mind. “If you want a quick fuck, you’re welcome to come in. If not, I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

The door fell into the lock before I could respond. Fucking prick. I thought he had learned, in the past years, I really did, but this just proved that he was a stubborn as ever. With a noise of frustration, I harshly stamped my foot into the carpet underneath, just to rid myself of some of the tension. It didn’t work.

•••

Neither Oli nor Noah were anywhere to be found when I got to the venue. My messages to both of them had somehow gone unread, which frustrated me even more. One of them was supposed to be my boss which made my work impossible. The other didn’t seem like the type to not check his phone which was equal parts weird. It wasn’t until someone tipped me off that at least Noah had been seen getting back to his dressing room that I finally had some success.

Well. Technically, I had twice the success because Oli was leaving the room right as I reached it. I was about to ask him what was going on, why wasn’t he answering my mails, did he really have no need for me today, but he simply nodded in recognition and sauntered past me. One problem after the other, I told myself, knocking and letting myself into Noah’s dressing room.

Noah was sitting on the sofa, cross-legged, looking up at me with wide eyes. I let myself fall onto the cushions next to him, utterly exhausted by the day and it wasn’t even showtime. Without a word, Noah put his arm around me, allowing me to rest my head on his shoulder. The comfort spread through me like a hot cup of tea.

“Are you okay?” I asked simply because I was afraid he would ask me first. “What did Oli want?”

“Just checking if we were okay, I guess,” Noah sighed. I internally scoffed at the fact that he had bothered with Noah but not with me, but I pushed the thought away. “Wanting to make sure I still wanted to Antivist tonight.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know when someone is talking and talking but they’re not actually saying anything? Oli is an expert at that, isn’t he. I have no idea what he thinks about last night. I can’t even pinpoint if I asked.”

“Oli can be all smoke and mirrors and leave you more confused than before you talked to him,” I agreed. “How do you feel about last night?”

I didn’t lift my head. I gave both of us the chance to speak as freely as possible without having to look at each other. The same way the darkness gave you the freedom to reveal your secrets at night when you’re a kid, before you came to regret your honesty the next morning.

Noah’s answer began with a big sigh. “I liked kissing him,” he admitted. “I liked kissing you, too. I liked watching him kiss you. But I’m not…” I allowed him as much time as he needed to find his words. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to get involved… with anyone. I can’t give anyone what they need. I’m away and I don’t talk about my feelings and I’m a terrible partner and-”

I couldn’t help myself as I interrupted his speech, sitting upright and taking his face in my hands to force him to look at me. Even self-doubt looked handsome on him.

“You’re talking about your feelings right now, Noah, and you’re doing just fine.”

His head dropped low, now finding my shoulder as I awkwardly hugged him. The scent of his hair was in my nose and I had to actively stop myself from inhaling loudly. He smelled like comfort, I decided. Noah looked back up as I raked my fingers through his hair.

“What do you want to do now?” I asked, carefully.

“I just know I don’t want to stop kissing you.”

It was all I needed, right then and there. I kissed him with all the intensity, all the desperation, all the need inside of me, all the frustration about Oli, all the feelings I had for him but couldn’t or wouldn’t yet name. His mouth was starting to feel familiar against mine, familiar but never boring in the way it moved, the way he tasted. He held me close, pressing our chests together, my breasts heavy between us, his hands all over me in sweet gestures that still had me burning for more.

Both of us were breathless when we separated, but I couldn’t help peppering a few more kisses to his lips, short and soft but saying it all, until it came to a natural end. The smile on his face, directed solely at me, his brown eyes, so enticing, smiling along, was more than enough.

I didn’t want to stop kissing him either.

•••

Oli kept himself much less approachable. He finally read my message but left me without a reply. I managed to run into him several times before his band’s set, but he more or less sent me away every time, claiming not to need anything at all. Just relax and sit down somewhere, he had told me with a dismissive wave of his hand. He was stubborn, but so was I. The last hour before his stage time, I simply followed him around the arena like a lost puppy, just in case he found a use for me. He didn’t. But I felt stupidly pleased that I didn’t let him get away with whatever game he was trying to play.

Still, I was annoyed and felt the rage simmering inside of me. Oli managed to put on a good show, but I felt like his mind wasn’t quite in the right place. Mine wasn’t either. I quickly spoke to Bring Me’s tour manager when I caught him at the side of the stage, purely to let someone know, before going the long way round and finding myself on the arena floor among the fans. I had been a fan myself, long before I’d been working on tours, and that hadn’t changed, no matter how many I went on. I knew that being in a crowd, surrounding by people, screaming the lyrics and moving to the music, would help me clear my head like nothing else could. Besides, it felt about time I got to witness their show from the perspective of the audience, the very people everything from the setlist to the production to the sound design had been specifically made for.

I squeezed myself into the middle of the crowd, made easier by the amount of movement around me, and took a deep breath that was unfortunately filled with the sweat of people who never learned to use deodorant. It made me move a little further, just until the air was slightly more breathable. And then it felt like home.

I wasn’t Aubrey, personal assistant to Oli anymore and he wasn’t Oli, decade-long friend that turned into the most stubborn person on the planet when faced with his vulnerability anymore. I was nothing more than a fan enjoying the music of one of her favourite bands and getting positively lost in the experience. So I went crazy for Diamonds Aren’t Forever and Parasite Eve, kept my eyes on the screens for Antivist just to catch a glimpse of Noah, getting closer to the front of the stage through a number of moshpits, fought hard not to get emotional for Drown.

The fact that Can You Feel My Heart followed didn’t help. The words travelled through my body, taking hold of me, and I was sure I’d never quite felt them the way I did right then and there. And then…

And then Oli didn’t do the speech. His cheesy ass speech he did in the middle of the song, that he constantly joked about backstage but that I knew was so important to him. And he didn’t do it. Could he not bring himself to say the words? Was he too scared to be vulnerable tonight? Could he not bear the thought of baring his soul like that? Had I made it worse?

I hate to get close, and I hate being alone, I long for that feeling to not feel at all…

The world seemed to close in on me. Oli was being a dickhead, yes, but had I pushed him too far? Had I played his stupid game without taking into account that I knew how much he struggled with allowing that type of intimacy? I had been so preoccupied with my own need for him that I didn’t stop to think if I should check up on him instead of teasing him further and further, allowing him to escalate our friendship into something that could be beyond repair. My head was spinning so hard it made me feel dizzy.

I didn’t notice the moshpit opening up around me until someone crashed into my body, sending me flying to the floor. Someone’s hands were on me, possibly multiple, getting me back on my feet, checking on me. I felt something wet on my face but didn’t think to check, people were shouting at each other over the music, coming to an agreement that someone should get up and crowdsurf to the front where they would get help quicker. Me. They were talking about me. Something dripped onto my eyelid and I wiped it away in annoyance as I got lifted up. Blood? The crowd carried me easily. The song was almost over when a security guard caught me and I briefly looked up to see Oli staring down at me, worried. I wasn’t sure why.

Next thing I knew, I was backstage again, a medic shining a light in my eyes which was awfully annoying, Oli and Noah crouching next to me, being asked questions that were easily answered.

“She’s okay, she probably got a slight concussion, but that will be fine by tomorrow. The cut on her eyebrow is minimal and doesn’t need stitches, it just looks bad because it bled, but that’s stopped which means it’s not too deep. Just make sure it’s kept clean and it should heal just fine.”

“You okay?” Oli asked, carefully grazing his fingertips over my cheek. Awfully soft, really. “I need to get back on stage, but Noah will take you to the dressing room and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’m fine,” I hissed, still high on adrenaline but slowly catching up with what was happening around me. “You don’t need to suddenly care again just because I got injured.”

I could see that my words had hurt him but I didn’t care. Even if my heart pounded heavily. I allowed Noah to help me up and lead me to Oli’s dressing room where he sat me down on the sofa and inspected my wound.

“Do I look sexy all bloody?”

The laugh erupted from his throat out of nowhere. “The medic cleaned you up, but sure, very sexy.”

Silence settled over us as I leaned against his side. The exhaustion of the whole day was washing over me and I was suddenly glad for a little peace and quiet. Neither of us spoke again, simply enjoying the physical contact, until it got louder again from outside the door and we knew the concert had ended.

“Done with your ego trip, then?” I asked as Oli entered the room. He had the decency to look ashamed which I thought was a step forward.

“Never,” he mumbled, but there was no malice in his voice. I raised my eyebrow at him, which shot a dose of pain through my head. My wince softened him immediately. Idiot. “I’m sorry you got hurt. That shouldn’t have happened.”

I genuinely couldn’t tell if he was talking about my mosh pit incident or…

“I guess some people just need to be a little more careful with those around them. Just because they didn’t mean to doesn’t mean other people don’t end up with a headache.”

“You know, some people try very hard, but they’re also very slow learners.”

“I feel like there’s a metaphor here that’s flying right over my head,” Noah interrupted and I couldn’t help but laugh, pressing a short kiss to his temple. Poor Noah, having no idea what he was getting dragged into with Oli and me, but taking it in his stride that neither of us was willing to let him go unless he genuinely asked for it.

I reached my hand out to Oli, deciding to be the bigger person despite knowing that it wasn’t on me to make that first step, but I was impatient and Oli would take forever to be brave enough to come crawling back. “I’m not saying this is over or that we don’t have things to talk about, but as long as you stop pretending to be this cruel and heartless version of you, you’re allowed back into the cuddle pile.”

Oli didn’t take my hand immediately, but looked at Noah, as if checking in with him if he was of the same opinion. I decided to give him credit for it. Noah nodded and in an instant, Oli had draped himself over both our laps, hot to the touch and rather sweaty. The tension between the three of us hadn’t vanished, but it had lessened. Questions remained unanswered and discussions were still to be had but maybe Oli wasn’t the only one reluctant to dive into the deep end.

He mouthed sorry, Aubrey at me and I hated the way my heart melted and my resolve slipped. Then Noah softly stroked his hair and I was sure that some other hearts in this room were melting just the same. I couldn’t help it. I was in love with the mess we were creating.

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

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themorbidwriter · 5 months

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You were sitting on the weathered wooden bench, the warm sun shining down on you as you waited for your ride to arrive. Lost in thought, you didn't notice the sound of the truck pulling up until a shadow loomed over you. Looking up, your jaw dropped slightly at the sight of the man who had just approached you.

"Are you the girl I'm supposed to pick up?" The man's gravelly voice carried a hint of amusement as he looked down at you with piercing blue eyes. He had a ruggedly handsome appearance, with a strong jawline, and a confident stance that exuded charisma.

As you locked eyes with him, you remembered the words of the woman who had arranged this encounter. "You'll love Rip the moment you see him," she had said cryptically. At the time, you hadn't known what she meant, but now as you looked up at the man in front of you, you understood.

You couldn't believe it, he was stunning. You were momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to stammer out a response. "Um, yes, I think I am. I'm (Y/N) I wasn't expecting someone... like... you to pick me up," you said, feeling a bit flustered.

Rip flashed you a charming grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, darlin', surprises are my specialty," he said with a chuckle. As he extended his hand, he continued, "I'm Rip Wheeler. And I reckon you must be the lucky lady I'm giving a ride to. Hop on in, let's get going."

You took his hand, feeling a jolt of electricity at the touch. "Nice to meet you, Rip. I'm definitely grateful for the ride," you said, still slightly in awe of the unexpected turn of events.

As you climbed into the truck, you couldn't shake the feeling of enchantment that Rip's presence had invoked. It seemed the woman's cryptic message had been spot on, and you couldn't wait to uncover more about the enigmatic man who had just entered your life. Slightly dazed with wonder, you fastened your seatbelt and braced yourself for the journey ahead, eager to discover what lay beyond this captivating introduction.

The drive to the ranch was awkward and quiet, the sound of the engine and the occasional breeze the only noises that filled the air. You stole glances at Rip from the corner of your eye, still slightly in disbelief at the events that had transpired. Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, Rip glanced over at you and broke the tension.

"Do you want to listen to the radio?" Rip asked, his voice breaking the silence with an attempt to fill the void with some form of conversation.

You shook your head awkwardly, feeling a bit out of place. "Sir, if you want the radio, go for it. It's your truck." The words spilled out in a rush, and you mentally kicked yourself for sounding so uptight.

Rip chuckled softly, the deep sound soothing the awkwardness in the air. "Well, ma'am, it's your ride too. If you want some music, just say the word. I ain't particular," he said, flashing a disarming grin.

Feeling more at ease after his reassurance, you finally relented. "I suppose some music wouldn't hurt," you said, giving a hesitant smile.

As Rip reached over to turn on the radio, the tension in the truck lifted. You were grateful for the distraction as the sounds of a country ballad filled the cab. The rhythmic strums of the guitar and the heartfelt crooning of the singer provided a comforting backdrop for the rest of the journey.

The air grew lighter, and you found yourself stealing glances over at Rip, noticing the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight. The tension slowly melted away, replaced by a newfound sense of ease and a glimmer of excitement for what lay ahead. As the miles passed, you couldn't help but feel a growing curiosity about the man beside you, wondering what adventures lay in store at the ranch and beyond.

As you listened to the radio, a frown crossed your face as the news report blared through the truck speakers. You bit your lip nervously, feeling the weight of the situation settling in. Without warning, you reached over and turned the radio off, the sudden silence filling the truck.

Rip glanced over at you, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Okay, so you decided against the radio?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

You cleared your throat, a sudden surge of determination coursing through you. "I want to go over everything before we get there, okay?" you said, your tone firm and resolute.

Rip's expression softened as he nodded in understanding. "Alright, darlin'. Whatever you need," he replied, his words laced with a hint of concern for your well-being.

"John Dutton is my boss, right? What are you to me exactly?" you inquired, curiosity lacing your tone.

Rip let out a thoughtful sigh, running a hand through his rugged hair. "Alright, well, I'm the Foreman," he began, his eyes searching yours. "What that means is that I'm... a supervisor." Before he could continue, you interjected with a hint of mischief, "except the supervisor of Brokeback Mountain."

Rip's brow furrowed in confusion, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his lips. "What?" he responded, his eyes narrowing slightly. You raised your eyebrows, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you explained, "Brokeback Mountain. It was a um... a um... never mind."

Rip's lips curled into a grin, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Yeah, I um know what Brokeback Mountain is, Darlin'," he replied with a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling, "just not sure how to take that."

You smiled at Rip as he drove and couldn't help but ask, "So Rip, you seriously work at the Dutton ranch? You look too... cute to be a cowboy, no offense. I just wasn't expecting someone like you."

Rip looked at you and chuckled before replying, "What were you expecting?"

You let out a yawn and said, "Well, I'm not sure what I was expecting. Sorry, long flight."

Rip nodded understandingly and said, "I'll tell you what, how about you try and sleep and you can start work tomorrow, okay?"

You opened your mouth to refuse, but another yawn broke through. Rip undid your seat belt and patted his lap, saying, "Place your head right here if you need a pillow."

You hesitated for a moment before carefully resting your head on Rip's lap. "Thanks, Rip. I appreciate it."

As your eyes drooped with exhaustion, you managed a faint smile before mustering the energy to speak. "Rip? As soon as we get there, wake me up so I can get straight to work, okay?" you requested, your voice laced with determination despite your fatigue.

Rip glanced at you with a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "You got it, darlin'," he replied reassuringly, understanding your eagerness to get started. "But don't worry, you're gonna need some rest before diving into the ranch life."

You shook your head faintly, the weariness evident in your voice. "I'm good, really. I want to make a good impression, and I can't wait to see the ranch," you insisted, struggling to keep your eyes open.

Rip chuckled softly, his tone understanding. "I admire your enthusiasm, but trust me, the ranch isn't going anywhere. And I can promise you, it'll still be there when you wake up," he said with a glint of reassurance in his eyes.

Feeling a sense of comfort in Rip's words, you nodded faintly before closing your eyes, allowing the gentle hum of the engine to lull you into a deep, much-needed slumber. As you drifted off, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were in good hands, and that the upcoming adventure at the Dutton ranch would be one to remember.

#rip wheeler #yellowstone #rip wheeler x reader

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wri0thesley · 1 year

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mark of ownership - childe x reader (6.3k)

you and childe have unfinished business.

cw: not sfw. reader is afab, but no gendered pronouns are used. reader is chubby/bigger than average and expresses a very small amount of insecurity about it. both reader and childe are sadomasochist switches but reader is in charge in this particular interaction. restraints, face sitting, riding, blades and marking with blades, bloodplay. pet names including 'sweetheart'. a sequel to this work.

this was a commissioned work.

It is your duty to rail against the Fatui. That is what your organisation expects of you; that you will meet with Fatui soldiers doubting their loyalty in secret, convince them to defect and join your operations, that you will tell them all of the horrible things that the Fatui do and make them see that they are being used as pawns in somebody else’s games. You will bring up the bloodshed, the inhumanity of raising children from the Home of the Hearth to be nothing more than machines for the Tsaritsa’s use, the fact that every occupied seat on the council of the Fatui Harbingers is occupied by someone who cannot be trusted an inch--

Inevitably, that last part of your impassioned conversation brings memories flashing to the forefront of your mind.

You hope that when these Fatui soldiers hear your voice crack, they’re mistaking it as the crack of emotion of someone who is impassioned to their cause. You hope when you speak of the Harbingers, the way that you sometimes stutter over your explanation of the battle-crazed eleventh is misread as disgust and not some kind of longing.

But late nights in safehouses with your hands between your legs, you have to admit that is not the case at all.

You are practically haunted by the reminder of what transpired between you and Childe - although this is a haunting in only the most pleasurable way. You are constantly thinking and daydreaming of the way his breath hitched when he kissed you like he was fighting you, the strange refraction of light in his empty eyes when you’d used your mouth on him and his pretty boyish face hadn’t held back an ounce of the pleasure you were bringing to him. The way the air had crackled with electricity between you both as you’d bit and bled and played a strange game of ‘fighting or fucking’ . . .

Oh, the emotion that licks at your voice when you talk about Childe is certainly not disgust.

You hate yourself, sometimes, for how much you want to see him again. The lingering memory of your last promise to him - that next time your paths crossed, he would be the one at your mercy - hangs in the air, waiting for you to make good on it. You daydream about it when you should be thinking about other things; imagine scratching your nails down his cheekbone, biting the soft flesh of his neck until he groaned, running a blade slowly slowly across his chest--

Giving him a little scar, to twin the faded one on your thigh that reads “A” for “Ajax”. A mark of belonging, perhaps - you think that Childe deserves to have something you carved into his skin somewhere on him, too.

For the sake of fairness, naturally.

Despite what you might want and fantasise about, though, you are actually rather devoted to the organisation that you work for - you want to help in their work, and you wouldn’t be much help at the mercy of a Fatui Harbinger that you might not escape from quite as unscathed the second time you met him. You also value the work you do over your own pleasure and sex drive - mostly - and so you push those thoughts to the side and you get on with things. Your own base of operations is closest to Liyue, because of all of the Fatui delegates who get sent to work in the Northland Bank . . . and recently, the tide has rather turned against them. Liyue citizens remember that the Fatui were an integral part of them almost losing their lovely city - and so, Fatui members have begun to wonder if they’re really on the right side after all.

You still keep your head down and your alibi - a shop assistant, nothing more, of course there aren’t codebreaking tools in your pocket and a dagger, sheathed on your thigh beneath your clothes - but you don’t worry quite as much as you once did, because you don’t need to.

Life, though, has a way of giving a person what they want in the strangest of ways.

For you, that strange way manifests in the middle of Liyue Harbour on a hot summer’s day, as you stand and chat to Granny Shan about some new plush that she’s selling for a craftsman in one of the little valleys - a cutesy replica of Rex Lapis’s Exuvia, with paws curled beneath its chin and huge sparkling eyes. As you’re talking about it, a gloved hand reaches over to pick one up.

“Oh!” says a familiar voice, bright and boyish, “My little brother would love this.”

You turn, and there he is. Granny Shen stiffens a little, but Childe doesn’t seem to notice at all - he’s far too busy tipping the plush this way and that way, looking at the little paws and claws and the tail with the wire inside of it so that the child can pose it in all different ways. He’s smiling down at it, and your heart bangs against your ribcage at the sight of him. Your insides clench at the sight of his leather-gloved fingers, at the long limbs. You remember how it felt to have those fingers run over you; to have them pry your mouth open so he could kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.

Your cheeks are hot. Childe rustles in his pocket for Mora, still clutching the Exuvia plush. You wonder if you should slip away whilst you can, but your feet are rooted to the spot you’re already in, Childe’s magnetism (and the reminder of all of your fantasies) making it impossible for you to resist.

Whilst he is passing Mora over to Granny Shen - who you’re certain is overcharging him - he turns his head, and then . . . he finally sees you.

It takes a minute for him to remember where he knows you from - you see it in the way his eyes flash and his mouth curls quizzically - but then, the memories come back to him too. His cheeks flush pink beneath the freckles and he smiles, wide and bright and more than a little hungry.

“It’s you!” He says. “Hmm . . . if I remember correctly . . . this is not supposed to be the way we meet again.”

He tucks his plush under elbow, and forcibly takes your arm with the other - his fingers strong like iron as he steers you away. You let it happen, still so surprised to see him that you don’t have it in you to spit out anything clever or witty.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again,” he says, a grin still on his face, frenetic energy buzzing beneath his skin. “Let’s go find somewhere a little more private!” He leans in closer to you, ostensibly to whisper into your ear in front of the very proper citizens of Liyue. His breath is hot; his teeth nip at your earlobe as he lowly intones, anticipation dripping from every syllable; “I’ve been thinking about what you said you’d do to me next time for months.”

---

Childe brings you back to the little room that he’s currently renting in an inn; the proprietor looks at you and then hides a smile behind his hand - it’s clear to him the reason you’re there. Childe doesn’t make much of a show of hiding it either; excitement seems to come off of him in great waves as he moves, anticipation making his nerves fizz and his smile sharper and brighter than ever before. Your own stomach is jumping as though frogs have made their home there. You’re looking forward to this, too.

The room itself is fairly plain; good quality, but plain. Childe’s Fatui salary is obviously more than adequate, but you suppose he doesn’t seem the kind of man who puts much stock in velvet curtains and silken sheets. And, too, you suppose that with the current climate with regards to the Fatui in Liyue, he prefers something a little more restrained anyway. This has all of the hallmarks of an inn that won’t ask too many questions.

That’s better for you too. You take stock of the furnishings; the bed, a desk, a single chair. Childe’s bags, all on one side of the room, some spare clothes strewn over a dresser--

“Well, my Lord Harbinger,” you say to him, when you’ve finished your inspection. “I’ll assume you didn’t bring me here to kill me. That would be dreadfully inconvenient for the poor inn owner.”

He laughs, that wild, free laugh that makes you feel like someone is kissing down your spine.

“I missed your mouth,” he says to you, brightly. “You’ve got just as much of a spark as you did before, then?” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “That’s good. I’d hate for you to disappoint me.”

“What about you disappointing me?” You shoot back at him. Childe grins at you, and reaches behind his back.

You tense, expecting him to draw out a weapon. You really didn’t think he’d make a scene in his own rooms, but it appears Childe doesn’t really think about such things when the excitement of battle is on the table. Your hand is halfway to your dagger when he produces what he was reaching for - and the sight of the coiled rope in his hands makes you pause.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says. “It really wasn’t very honourable of me to knock you out and tie you to a chair before you could defend yourself, right? Put you at a disadvantage before we even got to have any fun! Not very gentlemanly of me, and definitely not all that fair a fight because of it. So . . .”

It takes you a moment to catch up. He seems to have pulled the rope from his pocket rather than from anywhere else, and your mouth speaks before your mind.

“Do you always carry rope with you?”

His eyes glitter wickedly and strangely.

“Of course I do,” he says, assuredly. “For fun and for . . . other reasons.”

Right. The murder and the other uncomfortable parts of being a pawn of the Tsaritsa’s militaria. You shove those thoughts to the side of your brain; if you think too much about such logic like who Childe really is, it will taint the fun experience you’re hoping to have with him. The pounding between your thighs is far louder than the voice of reason in your head (a voice that is, actually, getting quieter and quieter the longer you stand in the same room as him).

“And you’re going to put yourself at my mercy this time?” You ask him, scarcely believing it. You’d said plenty of things about it not being a fair fight last time the two of you had met, but you’d never expected Childe to actually try and rectify the situation. The rope he’s holding is thick; it looks plenty good quality. More than suitable for tying a man to a chair.

“Mmhmm!” He wiggles the rope at you lasciviously. “Come and get it. I’ll let you get me tied up nice and tight and at your mercy . . .” His voice drops a semitone. “And then we’ll have another round of our little game.”

Or more than suitable for tying a man to a bed.

It’s a good bed for such things, too. The bedposts are sturdy solid wood, protruding high enough from the frame that Childe probably wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of his bonds upwards. You step sweetly towards him and grab the rope.

“Why don’t you lie on the bed for me, then?” You ask him.

He does seem a touch surprised - but that surprise very quickly fades once more into hunger. He eyes the bed for only a moment - clearly mapping out the escape routes so he can turn the tables on you - before he saunters towards it and lets his body hit the coverlets with a soft whoomph.

“So forward!” He says. “You haven’t even bought me dinner, sweetheart.”

“Spread-eagled,” you order him - and to your immense surprise, he takes a juddering breath, and then quickly obeys.

“I hope you know,” he says conversationally, as you walk over to the bed too and clamber atop of him. His cock is already tenting the tight pants he wears as you straddle him, nudging against your own clothed sex when you lean over to tie your knots around his first wrist. “This is the most obedient I’m going to be. Once I’m secured . . . ooh, then it’s whoever’s stronger’s game.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say to him sweetly, and you tighten the knots around that wrist hard enough to make him groan aloud.

His groan is partly pain, but it’s edged in anticipatory pleasure too. Your body throbs in excitement. This . . . this is exactly what you’ve needed. You’re about to have some of the most fun you’ve had in your life.

His other wrist, and then slowly, carefully, his ankles. You want him to feel as at your mercy as you’d felt at his, when you’d come back around and found your legs and arms bound to a chair in the middle of nowhere. There’s something to be said, too, by the way his breath hitches when you tighten the knots and check them to make sure that there's absolutely no give in them. Childe watches you through every single one of your checks, eyes dark with desire.

“Now I’ve got you all trussed up,” you say to him, with a sharp smile of your very own - he looks so very good like that, laid out beneath you at your mercy. “Are you going to try and get out of it? You’re welcome to struggle. I’m very confident in my knots.”

“They’re good knots,” Childe rasps, and with that he begins to struggle in his bonds. He’s growling as he does it, all animal - used to his raw strength, honed in battle, being enough to get him out of things like this. He didn’t reckon on you. You stay astride him, your hands neatly curled upon his chest, as he struggles and twists and turns beneath you. His hard groin keeps rubbing pleasantly against the hot space between your thighs, sending frissons of electricity up your spine. Childe’s cheeks flush wildly. “Fuck!”

“Aww, baby,” you simper down at him, and Childe breathes in hard through gritted teeth. “Stronger than you thought they’d be?”

“J-just give me a couple of seconds,” he growls, his canines shining. You think idly about when he’d kissed you; the way he’d tugged at your mouth with his teeth, explored every crevice with his tongue like a conqueror during an invasion. You’ll kiss Childe later, you think.

You’re very satisfied with the knots. You don’t think he’ll be getting out of them any time soon; you feel confident enough, in fact, that you allow yourself to dismount him and stand next to the bed. Childe’s eyes follow you even as he continues to attempt to thrash.

“Hey,” he says. “Wh-where are you going? We’ve barely gotten started!”

You give him a sweet smile.

“I’m just starting to feel a little . . .” You rub at your own wrists, sighing. “Constricted. I thought I’d get a little more comfortable.”

Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt - Childe’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes going wide. He doesn’t cease his movements, but you’ve captured his attention. You’ve been a little insecure, before, about the curves of your body and the places you pudge out a little more than you’d like to . . . but under Childe’s gaze, you feel transformed. Like a statue of an archon, as you slowly strip your clothing to reveal your flesh and Childe keeps staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen and like he wants to devour you all at once.

Every garment you’re wearing joins the pile on the floor - at the sight of your dagger, strapped to your thigh, Childe has to pause to get his bearings back. A soft whine of desire escapes his mouth, and that noise makes you feel yourself clench around the nothingness inside of you.

“Let’s make things fair, shall we?” You ask him, with a smile on your face as you unsheathe the blade. Childe takes a deep shuddering breath as you approach him - as you get back on the bed, and tip his chin up with the flat of your weapon. “Let’s get your clothes off, now.”

“Please do,” he rasps in return - and he even helpfully arches his back (as much as he can) so that you have better access to the shirt he’s wearing. The fabrics are fine - the Fatui don’t seem to skimp on this kind of thing - but Childe does not seem to care about that as you slit said fabric open and reveal his body to you.

His pale torso is littered with scars and freckles. You take a moment to admire them before you switch to his trousers - pressing the sharp tip just a little too close to his crotch than you think he’d like. Childe, once again, surprises you - at the touch of danger, he growls, and you swear you feel his cock jump against his underwear.

You leave the underwear on for now. There’s already a sizable bulge pressing against the placket, a wet spot where the head of his cock is leaking and drooling precome onto the material. It’s almost cute.

You’d expected Childe to be running his mouth by now - you’d had some vague thoughts in the back of your mind about gagging him with your underwear, all wet with your own slick (and had indeed left said underwear in an easy to get to place) - but he’s surprisingly quiet, only grunting and groaning and rasping. You’re really getting to him, and the thought gives you a power rush that leaves you heady, intoxicated.

“You’re quiet,” you coo at him, running your fingers from his scarred, muscular shoulders and down to his chest - brushing your thumbs over his nipples and watching how he shudders. “Are you all out of clever things to say, my Lord Harbinger?”

“N-no,” Childe insists, his voice shaking. “I’m just . . . enjoying knowing I’m going to wipe that smug look off of your pretty face.”

“Aww!” You lean over him, your lips ghosting across his cheeks and hovering above his own mouth. He’s panting - he makes an effort to pull you into a biting kiss, but the ropes you tied earlier do a fine job keeping him constrained. “That’s cute. Keep talking for me.”

“I-- I’m going to show you . . . why I win all of my battles,” Childe says, trying to overlay bravado over the shuddering want in his voice. “Have you at my mercy--!”

“You’re trying,” you tell him, and you pinch his cheek. “But I think there’s something better you can do with your mouth. Don’t you?”

He pauses - and then, his eyes take on a gleam that makes your toes curl. It’s enthusiasm in its very purest form - a wild excitement as he rasps out;

“Oh, I’ll show you just how good I can be with my tongue.”

In the past, you’ve been a little nervous when it comes to this particular act with partners; aware that you’re probably not the lightest load to bear. You have no such qualms with Childe, knowing how he boasts of his strength and his skills and how he has the title of ‘eleventh Harbinger’ to back it up. You feel especially soothed by just how excited he is at the very idea.

“What a good boy,” you say to him - and you’re surprised to feel his cock twitch again, as you move yourself up his body until your thighs pillow either side of his cheeks. You reach for the headboard to keep yourself steady, and to make sure you can angle yourself off of his face a little if you need to let him breathe. You feel a bead of your own slick roll down your thigh; your heart beats wildly in your chest, your own desire making you feel dizzy with the power of it. “I’m so excited for you to prove it.”

You lower yourself down onto his face.

To be honest with yourself, you’re expecting Childe to be hesitant about it - after all, sitting on the face of a tied up man is not something you have much experience with, and you’re not sure that Childe has any experience with having it happen to him either - but you should have known from the way he’d kissed you way back then (all tongue and teeth and needy inexperience) that Childe does absolutely nothing by halves. The moment your sex is anywhere near his face, Childe is rearing up in his bonds, desperate to taste you as thoroughly as he tasted your mouth during his kisses.

It takes you a moment to regain your composure, his mouth hungrily licking through your folds with the intensity of someone who has been starved for some time. You’re grateful that he can’t see the way your mouth falls open or the way your eyelids flutter, the way that your fists tense on the bed frame where you grip it tight enough for it to splinter into pieces.

He has far more important things to focus on right now.

Like the taste of your slick as you feel it drip down his face, wetting his cheeks. He groans into you, the vibrations sending pleasure zapping up your spine. You grind into him a little, careful not to put too much weight on his face - but from the noise that Childe makes from that, you think he wouldn’t mind if he suffocated to death right there. It’s hard not to just let wild abandon take you; grind on him as desperately as he’s using his mouth. Ride his face to your completion, with any consequences being damned.

You don’t think you’ll even last that long, though - so instead, you move one of your hands from the headboard to take a handful of his red hair, tugging him so that his attentions focus more on your clit than on simply trying to devour you whole. You win another groaning growling noise of pure enjoyment at your rough pull - you know, of course, that he likes having someone present a challenge to him, but the noises never fail to be gratifying.

And he even takes the direction well!

As soon as he realises why you’re tugging on him in a particular direction, he turns his attention to your clit with only a muffled noise of pleasure; swirling his tongue around the swollen bud with artless but enthusiastic efficiency. You - having had this ache in your core since the very moment you laid eyes on him, an ache that has only been intensified as he laid out his plans for the evening - do not take long.

Pleasure swells inside of you, battering against the bars of a cage that Childe is slowly unlocking with his tongue. You feel sweat roll down your brow; your hips begin to shift against him more intently, blind in the pursuit of your orgasm to anything else. Childe’s tongue is sloppy against you; desperately working you over and over, swirling and lapping and sucking. His face must be soaked, you think, not only from your slick but from the messy way his own mouth works against your skin--

And that’s the last thought you have, because your release flashes white hot behind your sinuses and you whimper out his name - the name he’d given you last time, like he was imparting a secret.

“A-Ajax--!” And you’re coming, coming, a hot ball of fire exploding inside of you and making your toes curl and your fingers shake. Your eyes squeeze shut, a single tear escaping from the intensity of the situation. You let the waves wash over you, pleasure envelop you . . . and then, gathering your bearings back, you manage to shift off of him with shaking legs until you’re once more straddling his waist and making a wet shining mess of his abdomen.

As you suspected, his face is all shiny with stands of your own arousal, his cheeks flushed, his eyes so bright they’re like lamps. His gaze rakes over you hungrily. And then, they land quite squarely on your thigh, and the skin where he carved his initial into you.

“You look good with my name on you,” he rasps.

Your own dagger is still strapped to your thigh. It’s on the outside, so Childe didn’t reach the point of it whilst your thighs were pressing either side of his face - but the reminder of what he left on you last time gives you an idea.

You unsheathe it, twirling the blade in the light.

“You’ll want to remember this too, right?” You ask him, giving him your sweetest smile. You dance your fingers over his toned chest; the smattering of freckles, the old scars. You give one of his nipples a tug, which wins a groan from him and a slight arch of the back - not that you are seated close enough to his cock to provide any real friction there. “I should leave a mark on you too.”

Slowly, deliberately, you slide further down so that you are instead straddling his hips. Wiggling yourself just so, until the lips of your sex part - and the hard stiff length of him is captured between them, with too much fabric in the way for him to do anything but part his lips and pant, teased almost to his breaking point.

“Not an initial,” you say to him. “That’s just tawdry, don’t you think?” You bring the blade down over his left breast; slice into it just enough that crimson blood wells up. You wet your lips looking at it - somehow, the sight of the cut on him and the knowledge that you’re the one responsible for it make you feel all the more powerful and all the more turned on despite your recent orgasm. Your breath catches in your throat.

You make enough slices to make a rudimentary, jagged heart. You, unlike certain Fatui members, do not have all that much experience carving names and initials and other such things into people’s skin. Through it all - through every cut, every careful repositioning of your knife, Childe whines and whimpers and his cock jumps and pulses against your spread cunt.

You lean back to admire your handiwork. Childe looks up at you, breathless, panting, flushed . . . and so handsome that you want to cry, a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I want,” Childe growls out, guttural and breathless at once. “Your. Your mark. Please.”

The feeling intensifies; a troubling emotion that gnaws at your senses and spells danger. Your eyes dart to the ‘A’ carved into your thigh.

“You’re mine,” he insists, whining. “I want to be y-yours. Tell me. Do it. Please!”

Oh, no. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t let that look on his face tug at your heartstrings and bury itself deep in your bones.

He would look nice, marked as yours.

Your hand moves before your brain, urged on by your heart instead - and before you know it, you’re once more carving into the skin of the Fatui member before you. Slowly, inside of the heart you’ve already made on him, you trace the lines of your own initial - going just a little deeper than before.

His eyes close in ecstasy.

“Tell me,” he asks again, sounding like he needs it.

You realise you’ve started unconsciously grinding against his cock as you mark him, and any thoughts you might have had about how weird and fucked up Childe’s tastes are fall to the wayside. You two are kindred spirits. You feel exactly like that too.

“You’re mine,” you tell him - and to prove your point, you lean over him and kiss the heart-and-initial cuts on his chest, smearing his blood on your lips.

Childe lets out a strangled groan, a whimper, and his cock jumps against where you have it trapped between your thighs with the barrier of the fabric between you - and you feel a spreading hot wetness.

Your face goes hot all over. Your body thrums in need again, as if you haven’t been allowed to reach your peak once today already.

You made him come in his own underwear.

For one moment, you think about leaving him there. The humiliation of being bound to a bed, bleeding, his come spattered against his own skin. Your calling card etched into his chest. You could rifle through his luggage; look for files, take them back to your organisation and be patted on the head and told how well you’d done (as you pointedly avoided telling them exactly how you got your hands on the information).

But oh, he’s lovely. And he’s staring up at you like he hung the moon. There’s that feeling again, stirring in the pit of your chest - a feeling you don’t want to give a real name to, but you know what it is nonetheless. Childe is clearly encountering that same emotion.

You lift yourself off him just enough that you can take the knife - still shining with his blood - and cut down the seam by his hip and thigh, to peel off the last garment. His cock is spent, laying against his stomach, ropes of pearly come splattered over his freckled skin . . . but as you look at it, it slowly stirs back to life. Childe is a young man, after all - and a young man fuelled by adrenaline and want, and his refractory period is clearly not that long.

You give him a hand. A few strokes, far gentler than you’ve been before; coaxing him back to hardness. It does not take all that much effort. Some gentle pets with blood stained fingers (you got his blood on your hands, somehow - Childe does not complain about the mess you’re making of him), a few strokes of your thumb over his slit, tracing of the pulsing veins of his shaft . . . and through it all, Childe is panting, staring at you, an unspoken emotion passing between the two of you.

He’s hard again.

You’re a little slower and a little gentler this time, as you position yourself over him; as you carefully readjust your hips until you can feel the head of him pressing against your entrance.

“I’m going to use you like a toy,” you tell him, your voice cracking just a little. “Try and struggle free i-if you can.”

“Be my guest,” he says, in that same excited rasp, though there’s a breathless quality that wasn’t there before. Something fragile in the air between you both. “I’ll give you exactly as good as I get.”

You lower yourself onto him for the second time that evening, but this time you welcome him inside of you. He’s big enough to stretch you out, but familiar - how many times have you replayed that safehouse-tied-to-a-chair memory like a fantasy, remembering how he’d felt inside of you? Cherishing it as you worked yourself into a frenzy?

Reality far outshines your fantasies. You’ve found, in the past, this generally isn’t so - but oh, does Childe make good on the promises of the daydreams you’d had about his cock. Childe feels good inside of you, bigger and thicker and better than you could have imagined. You let out a hiss through gritted teeth as he bottoms out, and you take him inside of you in his entirety.

Childe lets out a groan of your name and arches his back as much as he can, trying to encourage you with the tilt of his hips to ride him with abandon. His earlier sensitivity from coming has already been forgotten. He wants you to make good on your promise of treating him like he’s nothing more than a toy to be ridden and used.

And, honestly?

Who are you to deny a Fatui Harbinger what they want?

There is no easing into a rhythm. Childe has made clear what he wants, and you are more than willing to go along with it - already, the orgasm that he’d wrung from you with his tongue feels like a distant memory that occurred months ago, not minutes. You let your hips do the talking instead.

You let yourself pull off of him until only the very head of his cock is inside of you, and work yourself back down onto him in one swift bounce. Childe’s head is thrown back, showing you the sensitive and vulnerable parts of his throat.

“Harder,” he manages to get out.

You quite agree.

This time, you lean forward. You let your lips clash against his - and once more you’re kissing him, kissing him, kissing him. His blood smears on both of your mouths; and with your tongue, you work it inside of his too. It’s tongue and teeth and raw need, a kiss that carries on even as you establish the bruising rhythm of your thrusts and the slapping noises of flesh on flesh fill the air.

The landlord of the inn will certainly not be happy with the noises the two of you are making (or the blood that will end up all over the sheets, the mess of you and Childe fulfilling your desires), but you cannot bring yourself to care about all of that. The only thing that exists for you in that shining moment is the places where you and Childe are joined.

Your mouths. Your teeth tugging at his lower lip, his tongue learning the shape of your mouth once more. His tongue tracing your canines and incisors, his teeth getting to know your tongue. It might not seem like it would be pleasant . . . but every new movement he makes sends shockwaves ricocheting through you, makes your channel constrict and clench around his cock inside of you.

Your hands; sliding up and down his chest, getting to know the beat of his heart and the shape of every scar. Messing in the blood that you left when you carved your ownership into his skin. Childe occasionally hisses out when your nails scratch the fresh marks, but when you go to pull away and use the pillow or mattress as leverage instead of his body, he makes a whine of disappointment.

“It’s a good hurt,” he tells you, in between slick kisses and pants. “Hurt me more. I’ll return the favour, I promise.”

So you carry on letting your hands stroke his torso as the final joining place of the two of you - cock in sex, him inside of you, your bodies entwined as one - continues to help you both barrel towards another orgasm. It’s hard to gauge how much time passes as you ride Childe like you promised. All there is for you is him, and you, and your breaths and your blood and your hands and the bed--

Your orgasm hits you like a punch to the gut, sharper and brighter and deeper than you’ve ever come before. You practically wail against his mouth as fireworks seem to go off inside of your head, your ears ringing with the force of it - and Childe joins you in the groaning, the vocalisation of pleasure, as it turns out that the squeezing and pulsating of your cunt as you come is enough to push him off the precipice of his own release.

Hot ropes of him inside of you; a mark in its own right. The gush of you coming, soaking his pelvis - another mark. You have an intense urge, suddenly, to be able to put yourself inside of him. To be able to fuck him in the way he can fuck you; to get his body to learn the shape of yours.

You’ve heard about Fontaine inventions that will allow you to do just that, actually - allow yourself a brief moment of imagining bending him over and fucking him, instead.

Next time, next time, next time.

You’re breathless as you dismount. Your legs shake, come rolling down your thighs, as you work your clothes back on. You forgo some of the more complicated garments - why does fashion require you to have so many buckles anyway? - but you manage to pull yourself into some semblance of decency nonetheless. Through it all, Childe lies there panting on the bed, not even asking you to untie him.

Your gaze flits over him.

Now’s your chance.

Childe is too out of it to notice for a few moments, but as you pull a couple of documents from his luggage - official looking, a Fatui wax insignia keeping them closed, jackpot - he stirs himself enough to mumble;

“What are you-- hey!”

“Thanks,” you tell him, as you take a few of them. “These will be really helpful.”

“Untie me and give me a fair fight--!” His voice isn’t as enraged as you’d expected it to be. There’s a note of fondness in there that makes your cheeks heat up despite yourself. Oh, he looks wrecked the way you’ve left him - blood on his chest, come all over his stomach, your pleasure still all over his face. It’s the kind of image you’ll come back to, in the nights without him.

“I’m so looking forward to seeing you next time,” you tell Childe, wiggling your fingers - still wet, still messy, still stained with his blood - at him. As you leave, you also tuck the Exuvia plush he bought for his brother beneath your arm.

. . . You’re certain there will be a next time, from the twinge in your heart and the moments that have passed between you both - but it never hurts having an extra incentive.

You blow a kiss as the door slams shut behind you, and try to ignore that you wish that the kiss was pressed to his forehead as the two of you cuddle in bed.

#commissioned work #childe x reader #childe smut #dom reader #not sfw text #writing #genshin impact smut #blood cw #blades cw #marking cw #genshin impact posting

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unabashegirl · 3 months

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Enticing 37 || Harry Styles

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

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The room exploded into chaos as Harry, reeling from Patrick's punch, swiftly retaliated with a punch of his own. His fist collided with Patrick's jaw, sending him stumbling backward. Harry, his anger flaring, didn't stop there; he landed another punch, determined to make a point.

Y/N's cries filled the room as she sat on the floor, her tears flowing freely. The violence of the altercation had shaken her to her core, and she felt helpless amidst the chaos.

Finally, Harry stepped back from Patrick, his chest heaving with anger and frustration. He turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he knelt beside her, his voice filled with concern. "Y/N, are you okay?"

Y/N, still trembling from the shock of the confrontation, nodded as she wiped away her tears. "I'm fine, just shaken up."

The room fell into a heavy silence as the three of them processed the events that had just transpired. It was clear that the unresolved tension between Harry and Patrick had reached a boiling point, leaving them all with a sense of uncertainty about what the future held.

Harry's voice was heavy with regret as he spoke to Y/N, his concern for her and their unborn child evident. "I think it's best for me to leave. This tension between Patrick and me is only causing you more stress."

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Harry. She knew that his decision was driven by his genuine concern for her well-being.

With a tender kiss to her forehead, Harry whispered, "Call me if you need anything." He then turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving the chaos and tension behind.

Patrick, still nursing the physical and emotional wounds of the confrontation, watched in silence as Harry departed. The room was left in a heavy silence, the aftermath of the explosive altercation weighing heavily on everyone present.

As Y/N sat there, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions, she couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a way for her to find a peaceful resolution to the complex web of relationships that had entangled her life.

Y/N stood alone in her new apartment, the aftermath of the fight still echoing in the air. Her anger had reached a breaking point, and she couldn't stand to be in Patrick's presence any longer. With trembling hands and a voice filled with frustration, she had pointed towards the door.

"Get out, Patrick. Just get out!" Her words were a furious demand, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and hurt.

Patrick, his face etched with regret, knew he had crossed a line. He had pushed Y/N to this breaking point, and there was nothing left for him to do but leave. With a heavy sigh, he turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving Y/N alone in the midst of the emotional wreckage.

As the door closed behind him, Y/N was left to confront the chaos that had unfolded. Her heart was pounding, and her head was spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let them flow freely now that she was alone. She needed a moment of solitude to collect herself, to process what had just transpired.

Without a second thought, Y/N decided to spend the night in her new apartment, even though it was far from comfortable. The place was still sparsely furnished, and the bed had no sheets or blankets, but she didn't care. She needed to be away from Patrick, away from the reminders of the fight, even if it meant spending the night in discomfort.

Her mind was consumed with the images of the heated argument, the sound of fists meeting flesh, and the overwhelming sense of betrayal. She couldn't believe how her life had unraveled in just a few hours. It was a nightmarish rollercoaster she desperately wanted to escape. Y/N was met with a cold and eerie silence. The dim light from the street outside cast unsettling shadows on the barren walls. She shivered, realizing that there was no bedding to make the hard mattress more comfortable.

But in that moment, physical discomfort was the least of her concerns. Y/N was here to be alone with her thoughts, to grapple with the turmoil of her emotions, and to come to terms with the reality of her situation.

She lay on the mattress, still fully clothed, staring at the ceiling as the tears continued to flow. The room felt empty and unfamiliar, much like the void in her heart. Y/N knew that this night would be long and uncomfortable, but she welcomed it as a necessary step toward finding clarity and resolution.

In the solitude of her new apartment, Y/N began to reflect on her choices and the path that had led her here. The uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on her, but for now, she needed this time alone to find a way to navigate her tangled emotions. The starkness of the apartment, with its lack of warmth and comfort, mirrored the emptiness she felt inside. It was a night of reckoning, a night when she would confront her anger and fear and begin the process of healing.

The new apartment felt colder and lonelier than ever as midnight approached. Y/N had been tossing and turning on the uncomfortable mattress for hours, but sleep eluded her. Her mind was a storm of emotions, and the events of the evening kept replaying in her head like a broken record.

Unable to bear the weight of her thoughts any longer, she finally decided to reach out to the one person she felt could offer her solace and understanding, even in the darkest of hours. Y/N picked up her phone and dialed Harry's number, her hands trembling as she waited for him to answer.

After a few rings, Harry's groggy voice came through on the other end of the line. "Hello?"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she heard his voice, and she struggled to keep her voice steady. "it's me," she whispered.

There was a moment of silence, and then Harry's voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

Y/N's voice quivered as she tried to hold back her tears, but they flowed freely, unstoppable. "No, everything's not okay. I can't sleep, and I can't stop thinking about what happened tonight."

She heard Harry's deep breath on the other end, a sign that he was fully awake and attentive to her words. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he said softly. "I should never have let things escalate like that."

Y/N wiped away her tears and sniffled, her voice still heavy with emotion. "It's not your fault, Harry. I just... I needed to hear your voice. I needed to talk to someone who understands."

Harry's tone was gentle and reassuring. "I'm here for you. Always."

As Y/N poured out her heart to Harry, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. She spoke of her anger, her fear, and the overwhelming uncertainty of her situation. She admitted to feeling torn between her desire for a peaceful resolution and her anger at Patrick's actions.

Harry listened intently, offering words of comfort and understanding. He reminded Y/N of her strength and resilience, assuring her that she would find a way to navigate through this difficult time. His voice, a lifeline in her hour of need, provided a sense of solace that she had been craving.

As the minutes turned into hours, Y/N's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of catharsis. Harry's unwavering support had helped her release some of the pent-up emotions that had been festering inside her. She knew that the path to healing would be long and challenging, but she also knew she didn't have to walk it alone.

Y/N found the solace in his comforting presence, even through a simple call. But as the night wore on, she couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness and unease that had taken hold of her in the empty, cold apartment.

She whispered to Harry, her voice trembling, "Harry, I just can't be in that apartment right now. I can't face Patrick."

“What do you mean? Where are you?” He asked concerned as he sat up in bed.

“At the new apartment. I couldn’t go back”

There was a momentary pause on the line before Harry responded, his voice filled with determination, "Put on your shoes and a coat. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Confused but trusting in Harry's instincts, Y/N followed his instructions. She slipped on her shoes and wrapped herself in a warm coat, feeling a sense of anticipation building within her. What could Harry possibly have in mind?

A few minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Y/N hurried to answer, and to her surprise, Harry stood there, bundled up against the cold night. His familiar presence brought her a sense of relief.

Without a word, he stepped inside and wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace. "Let's get you out of here," he whispered softly.

Y/N nodded, her gratitude for his unwavering support evident in her eyes. Together, they left the apartment, and Y/N locked the door behind her, leaving behind the turmoil of the night.

As they walked to Harry's car, he explained, "I thought it might be better if you spent the night at my place. It's warmer and cozier, and you shouldn't have to be alone right now."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes once more, but this time they were tears of gratitude. She hadn't expected Harry to come to her rescue in the middle of the night, but she couldn't have been more thankful.

Arriving at Harry's apartment, Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over her as they stepped inside. The warm, inviting atmosphere was a stark contrast to the cold, empty apartment she had left behind.

Harry had prepared her a bed, complete with blankets and pillows. "You can sleep here. I'll be in the next room if you need anything."

Y/N smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by Harry's kindness. "Thank you. You're a lifesaver."

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. " You're never alone in this."

As Y/N settled into the comfort of Harry's apartment, the weight of the night began to lift, replaced by a sense of safety and warmth. She knew that the journey to resolution and healing was ongoing, but with Harry by her side, she felt better equipped to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

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