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#fic
vanteguccir · 2 days
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You're mine | Matt Sturniolo
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Matt Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N is a ray of sunshine, and Matt is her dose of grumpness.
Warning: None.
Requested?: Yes, by @httpsm4tti
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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"Get out."
Y/N smiled as she heard Matt's short and authoritative voice echo through the walls of their shared room.
"Hi baby, are you okay?"
Matt lifted his head instantly, pulling his attention away from the computer screen in front of him and toward the door, where his girlfriend was standing.
A tray was resting securely in her open palms as a teasing gaze looked back at him.
A sigh escaped his lips, and Y/N knew it wasn't because he was stressed about seeing her but rather completely relieved. His tense posture gradually eased, and his frown dissolved, giving way to a calming stance.
"What are you doing here, petal?" Matt's tone came out soft, his hands leaving the keyboard and resting on his gray sweatpants covered thighs.
"You've been locked in here for hours. I haven't seen you get out to eat or drink anything until now..." Y/N began, starting her quick steps towards the brunette. "And since I know you're on a task to answer every email sent to the channel, I decided to bring you some snacks and drinks." A big smile spread across her face, her hands working on resting the tray on the empty space of his desk.
Matt glanced briefly at the contents on the wooden surface, fighting back a smile as he noticed all of his favorite snacks, plus a handmade sandwich and a can of rootbeer.
"You didn't need to do all this, sweetheart." The boy brought his blue orbs back to his girlfriend, his right hand coming up and resting on her hip lightly, gently stroking the covered skin.
"Anything for you, my love."
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The sound of the door to his shared room with Y/N opening ​​echoed through Matt's ears. The boy was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for himself and his girlfriend, the sun's rays streaming through the living room's large windows serving as his only source of lighting.
Y/N's muffled and quick footsteps sounded through the small hallway that led to where he was.
The boy didn't need to turn around to know that she was now standing behind him, probably just the large wooden table separating them.
"Good morning, baby!" Y/N's voice was like music to his ears, and Matt found himself wondering how she could be so happy at this time of the day, a small "morning" escaping his lips in response. "You won't believe the dream I had."
A smile almost imperceptibly appeared on the right corner of Matt's lips, the kind of smile that only Y/N was capable of eliciting from him.
The boy turned around with Y/N's favorite mug in one hand and a small plate with flowers drawn on it in the other, both containing coffee with a dash of milk and waffles with honey, just the way his girl liked.
The brunette placed them both on the surface in front of the seat that Y/N had already designated as hers, picking up his own plate and mug before sitting down in front of her.
"Nick and I were at this different theater, and we were going to watch a horror movie, which already started out weird because we know how much he hates horror movies..." Y/N started quickly, pausing momentarily to take a bite of her waffle, a hint of honey smearing the corner of her mouth. "But the weirdest thing was that the movie wasn't horror. It only had two main characters, and they rode horses the whole time. And then, out of nowhere, they adopted a mute dog and a blind cat, which were the cutest little things I've ever seen..."
The girl kept going, her voice changing intonation with each word while her expressions moved quickly, her free hand gesturing while her other hand held her waffle tightly, taking bites from time to time.
Matt remained silent, a serious - but relaxed - expression took over his face, while his mouth slowly chewed the pieces of his own toast, nodding his head every now and then, showing to her that he was paying attention, just like everyday.
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To outsiders, the scene unfolding there seemed to be amusing.
Y/N, with a big smile on her face and yellow flowing dress surrounding her, was quickly pulling a serious-looking Matt with completely black clothes, which covered almost his entire body.
"Come on, baby! There's an ice cream cart right there." The girl repeated the information that had already been given previously, pointing enthusiastically with the index finger of her free hand at the small pastel-colored cart on the other side of the street.
"I can see that." Matt muttered, feigning annoyance, but everyone who knew them knew how much he was loving it.
"Can I get a strawberry one? Please! Oh, and which flavor will you want? I know you love the chocolate one, but it's so nice to change things up sometimes." Y/N rambled, finally approaching the cart, smiling big at the salesperson in greeting. "So?"
"You can order anything you want for me." Matt surrendered, catching the intense gleam in his girl's eyes with his response before averting his own, fishing his wallet out of his pocket, ready to just make the payment and seat on a random wooden bench, looking forward to hearing her ramble about her week.
"Good afternoon! Can I have a strawberry one and a cream one, please?"
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"Baby, can you get me a Diet Coke? Please." Y/N briefly interrupted her conversation with Tara, looking at her boyfriend.
Matt was sitting next to Y/N on one of the couches at Tara's big 1 million party, his arms were crossed and his expression was serious - almost angry -, his eyes carried a steady gaze that circled around the people in the room, ignoring the screams and loud music, only his girl's voice echoing in his ears.
The brunette looked at her momentarily, nodding and leaning down slightly, sealing his lips on the side of her head gently before standing up, walking with firm steps towards the nearest bar.
It didn't take long, and soon the boy was returning to his previous spot, his hands balancing a can of Diet Coke and a can of Rootbeer.
His blue eyes almost instantly found the figure of his girlfriend, who was still talking to Tara, but now Nick was with them as well.
A small smile appeared on his lips as he watched her speak with so much passion, gesturing too much and changing her expressions too quickly.
But his own smile quickly fell when he saw a strange guy sitting in his previous seat, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch right behind Y/N's head and bringing his body closer to his girlfriend's, too close for his liking.
It was obvious that the guy knew Tara, as he immediately started talking to her, but his body language showed his interest in Y/N.
"Move. Now." Matt's serious and rude voice suddenly sounded as soon as he approached them, startling the small group. His eyes were fixed on the unknown boy, glaring at him.
His action brought small reactions from the others; Nick rolled his eyes, already used to his brother and his way of acting with everyone - except his girl. Tara raised her right eyebrow, her eyes traveling from the boy to Matt and back again.
But Y/N just smiled sincerely, ignoring the rudeness of his tone. Her eyes instantly lit up upon meeting her boyfriend and even more so upon seeing him holding her order.
"I won't repeat myself." Matt demanded, keeping his gaze steady on the guy, who quickly understood the message and got up from the couch, raising his hands in surrender before leaving.
Matt sat back down in the now empty space, handing his girl the Diet Coke before placing his arm right where the other boy's was, his fingertips caressing the exposed skin of her right shoulder.
He took advantage of Tara and Nick starting a new topic and brought his head closer to Y/N's, pressing his lips against her ear.
"You're mine, babe. Only mine."
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"Are you ready, honey?" Y/N asked as she finished fastening her necklace around her neck, her eyes fixed on the mirror next to their closet in the room she shared with Matt.
"I just... I don't know which sneakers to wear." Matt's voice sounded tired, his brow furrowed as his eyes traveled over the extensive row of sneakers he owned.
The girl turned around, approaching him while throwing her hair over her shoulders, running her hands over the light pink dress that hugged her body just right.
The two were getting ready to go to the Snapchat event that would take place in a few hours, and as usual Matt always asked his girlfriend for some tips on one of the pieces he would wear for the day.
"Wear the white and blue Jordans. I like how they look on you." Y/N opined, pointing to the indicated pair, caressing his right bicep before turning around, crossing the already open bedroom door to check if Nick and Chris were ready.
The duo was lying on the sofa, both ready and using their respective phones, just waiting for the couple.
"Finally! If I knew how to drive, I would have left you two behind." Chris grumbled, adjusting his posture on the upholstery and putting his cell in his pants pocket.
"You still didn't learn to drive properly because you're lazy and too comfortable with me just driving your ass around." Matt's voice echoed behind Y/N, his figure leaving their room and closing the door behind him, his expression straight and his eyes carrying a serious gaze.
"Oh my God, you look handsome, baby! I knew Jordan would work out just fine." Y/N ignored the small fight between them, her eyes traveling over Matt's body, admiring his clothes despite them being simple and black - as always.
Matt rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but the traces of an almost non-existent smile appearing on the right corner of his lips while his cheeks took on a red hue said otherwise.
"Oh, how handsome you are, Matt." Nick joked, imitating Y/N's voice and fawning his right hand over his face, blinking his eyes repeatedly, earning a loud laugh from Chris and an amused smile from Y/N.
"Shut the fuck up. Get moving. Now!" Matt barked back, glaring at his brothers before finally approaching his girl.
He placed his left hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her to the stairs that led them to the garage, ready to go.
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My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
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~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @iammattswife
(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
981 notes · View notes
endlessthxxghts · 1 day
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Dr. Miller
Orthopedic!Joel Miller x afab!Reader || W/C: 3.5k
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Summary: You’ve been dealing with a pain in your hip for a few weeks now, and it’s time you visit a specialist to see what’s going on. Part 2 coming soon.
Warnings: Reader is able-bodied. No physical descriptions for reader, all neutral (“your thigh”, etc). She/her pronouns for reader. Your occupation is a writer (LOL😙). Reader has a weird hatred for doctor appointments. Slight clothing description, no sizes mentioned. Pet names (darlin, angel, girl). Canon divergent - no outbreak, medical professional AU. You and Joel are literally strangers… like… ya just met today. 18+ MDNI. Inherent power imbalance (doctor-patient relations)….doctor’s office….Lots of teasing/dirty talk...oral (f receiving)…“author chose not to use archive warnings” - I don’t want to say too much!!! But pls note that there is explicit sexual activity occurring!!... proceed with horny caution… Please let me know if I need to add anything up here!
A/N: I was talking to @javierpena-inatacvest about a doctor’s experience I had (IT WAS NOWHERE NEAR INAPPROPRIATE LIKE THIS LMAOO JUST TO CLARIFY), and then we started joking around about if Joel were the doctor that I saw. So, I wrote this👹. Also I must mention!! I wouldn’t have been completely inspired/motivated to write this if it weren’t for @swiftispunk’s gynecologist!Joel Miller series she put out a little while ago!! It’s fucking amazing and yummy, and if you haven’t read that yet, DO IT NOW! 🫶 Alrighty, I love you all, I hope you enjoy xxx
MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG || see end notes
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Your appointment with DR. MILLER is coming up! Please arrive 15 minutes prior to your appointment time: 4:00PM. 
You got this text yesterday, grumbling to yourself about the fifteen minute early request. Why not just schedule the appointment for 3:45 then? you thought. 
Doctor appointments were your least favorite thing on the planet, no matter the reason. So when your hip started giving you trouble these last few weeks, so much so that you began to walk with a limp, you knew you weren’t going to get away with time as your medicine. 
You were pretty knowledgeable when it came to your body — that’s what years of not wanting to see medical professionals have trained you for — so with this particular pain, you knew you had to see a specialist. After doing some research to see which doctors took your insurance, you finally settled on a practice just ten minutes from your house. 
You arrived at your appointment at exactly 3:45, filling out the preliminary paperwork in less than five minutes leaving you to wait for ten.
Around 4:01, your name was called by one of the nurses, directing you to a room with two chairs, a medical bed, a light screen on the wall to display x-rays, and a computer screen mounted to the wall with a shelf below for the mouse and keyboard. The computer screen was facing away from where you’d be sitting. 
You settle yourself into one of the chairs, waiting for the nurse to start his round of questions only for the doctor to ask you the same thing over again. 
“Can you confirm your name and date of birth for me?” 
“Mhm,” you reply monotonously, stating your information back to him. 
“Great, thanks! And what brings you in today?”
“Well, the last few weeks I’ve had this dull pain in my left hip. It hurts in any kind of position I put it into, and I haven’t really done anything out of routine to trigger this,” you explain, still pretty annoyed. 
“And do you have pain right now? Can you rate it, 1 to 10?” The nurse asks as he types up your explanation. 
“Mm, I’d say about a 6 right now. Though, the pain has gone up to a 10.” 
The nurse hums in acknowledgment, clicking a few things on screen before he sets the computer into sleep mode. “Alright, I’ve put everything you told me in your chart. Dr. Miller will be in here shortly to review it over with you and get to the bottom of your pain. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this for a few weeks!”
His sweet and validating demeanor is like a slap to the face. He’s just doing his job, while you’re over here being not as sweet for absolutely no reason. You let out a deep sigh before you give the nurse an apologetic smile. “Thank you,” you say sincerely. “I really appreciate your help.”
“Just doing my job,” he responds with a smile, shutting your door softly to give you some privacy while you wait. 
Maybe you’ve been a little harsh towards the people in this field. Yeah, you’ve had some shit experiences, and maybe that’s why you’ve always loathed appointments of any kind, but not all of them are that way. Some are simply just doing their job. 
A few minutes pass, and a small knock to your door pulls you out of your thoughts. 
“Hey, there, I’m Dr. Miller,” the man says, a deep southern drawl blessing your ears. 
The moment your eyes drag up to meet the tall man before you, all words and breath are stolen from your lungs. 
Oh, fuck. 
Dr. Miller is fucking hot. 
His eyebrows begin to furrow, staring at you a little longer before saying your name questioningly, followed by a “Right?” 
Finally, you break out from your trance, realizing you’re utterly staring. Your eyes go wide, and you realize he’s been holding his hand out for you to shake. “Oh, shit..” you mutter to yourself. “Hi, yes, that’s me- sorry, Dr. Miller-” you ramble, cheeks on fire as you shakily reach for his hand. 
A soft chuckle escapes his mouth, and God, your entire body starts to grow hot. “No worries, darlin’,” he smiles. God, his smile. What kind of water does this man drink?
You laugh nervously as your heart lurches in your chest from his name for you. Bedside manner, you think. He probably calls all his patients some kind of nickname. For comforting purposes. Right? You keep quiet, not wanting to let more words slip from your mouth in the case that you embarrass yourself more. 
Dr. Miller logs himself into the computer, his eyes squinting at the screen as he reads the notes the nurse left behind. 
“Few weeks… dull pain… left hip…” he whispers to himself. “Uh huh,” he says as he finishes reading. “And you’re sure you don’t recall doin’ anythin’ out of your regular routine?”
“No, Dr. Miller, I really can’t,” you grimace, hating that you really don’t know what’s wrong. 
As he sits there contemplating, you can physically see the gears turning in his head, and it’s just about the hottest thing you have ever seen. He is just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen-
“Wait,” he says, the lightbulb shining bright above his head. 
“What?” You reply a little too eager for your liking. 
“What do you do for work, darlin’?” He asks, scrolling through your chart once more to see if your occupation is on file. 
The second he asks the question, you feel your face flush impossibly more, knowing damn well where this conversation is going.
You hesitate before you answer. “...I’m…I’m a writer…” you whisper, a defeated smile weakly plastered across your face.
His eyebrows raise, a silent smug uh huh already bouncing around in your brain. 
“And do you, uh… you sit a lot? Don’t ya?” Dr. Miller asks, knowing your answer already. 
“I do,” you admit, your hands going up to cover your face, your guilt. 
“And I reckon you forget to take them breaks? Stretch out your body a bit, huh?” Dr. Miller has given up hiding his shit-eating grin at this point.
“You reckon right,” you mirror his sentiment. 
“Mhm,” he hums. He waits for you to remove your hands from your face and you meet his eyes. When you do, he cocks his head to the side, gesturing to the bed. “Hop up there real quick, I wanna try somethin’.” 
“Oh, okay,” you say softly, sitting at the edge of the bed timidly. His hands reach for your shoulders first, guiding you to lay flat on your back. “I’m gonna slide you closer to the edge here, so your legs dangle off. That okay?”
“Yeah,” you squeak out, your breath struggling to make its way to your lungs at the way his ginormous hands ghost the coast of your thigh. 
At your confirmation, his hands secure themselves on the underside of your thighs, pulling you to the very edge of the bed, your hips nearly an inch away from being right against his own. You swear he can hear the rapid beat of your heart right now. 
“Still alright there?” he asks. So attentive, you think. You catch yourself smirking, immediately placing your hand over your mouth. You give him a muffled mhm in response. 
“Let me know if I’m hurtin’ ya at all, okay, darlin’? I’ll stop,” he tells you as he slowly begins guiding your legs open. He spreads your legs into a near butterfly position — you can feel the tightness in your hips slowly start to release. “Deep breath in and out, it relaxes your body more.”
And to your surprise, it does. You take one deep breath in, then out, and you can feel your legs fall even wider, your hip joint completely relaxed and not as tight as it was when you came in. 
“Atta girl,” Dr. Miller beams, feeling the stretch. Your heartbeat floats down to the heart between your legs under his praise, and all you wish you could do right now is shut your legs in case of any wetness that’s bound to say hello any minute now because you are fucking soaked. You knew you should’ve worn underwear today, damn it. 
He keeps you in this position for a minute, letting your body enjoy the freedom of pain. If he can feel your body beginning to squirm — and not out of any discomfort — he doesn’t say anything. Although he can’t deny the pretty intimate position he’s put you two into. And, you are quite beautiful. He couldn’t help the butterflies in his gut when he first walked in. And seeing you get all flustered with him? It was so damn cute-
“Why the left?” He blurts out, trying to get his thoughts away from the fact that he’s holding you open and can practically smell the arousal radiating from you — nevermind the tiniest hint of your wetness leaking through your sweatpants.
You track your eyes to his. His gaze was somewhere else before he met yours. “Huh?” You ask, too distracted to register his sudden question. 
“You, uh- you say you write. And you sit. A lot. How are you sittin’ that it’s only your left buggin’ ya?” 
“Oh,” you sigh. “Yeah… I probably don’t sit in very good positions…” you admit. His eyebrow quirks. You explain more. “…I sit…with my left leg propped up-”
“Jesus,” Joel cuts you off with a headshake. “Well, I mean. You’re pretty flexible,” he says as he, without thinking, squeezes your thigh. “Maybe you oughta incorporate yoga or somethin’ throughout your day,” he suggests. 
The tiniest of gasps leave your throat at the sensation. “Yeah, maybe,” you reply breathily. 
“Y’know what, let’s try one more thing, alright? How you feelin’, you okay still, darlin’?” 
“I’m good, Dr. Miller,” you reply honestly, your head feeling like it’s floating already the longer you stay in his presence and his touch.
He smiles at you, his eyes warm with a hint of something else you can’t — or shouldn’t — pinpoint. He places both hands on your left thigh, one on the outside and one on the inside. “Alright, I’m gonna pull your thigh over your right one. Try ‘n keep your back flat on the bed. I wanna see how this stretch makes you feel. Again, darlin’, let me know if I’m hurtin’ ya.” 
The second your thigh crosses over, a shameless moan leaves your throat — your legs crossing did absolutely nothing to ease your aching center, only stimulating the smallest but sweetest amount of friction to get you to break. “Fuck-” you gasp, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry- that was loud-”
You glance at Dr. Miller. He’s already looking at you, a pained look on his face. He’s tense. The grip he has on your thigh is tightening, but you don’t say anything. You don’t want to. “You don’t need to apologize for that, angel,” he coos. “It’s such a relief when you finally get that release, huh?” 
“Ye- yeah,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes transfixed on the way his hands look on your body. He’s guiding you back into your first position, the one that opens you for him. 
“Yeah,” he repeats. “Ya just needed to be opened up a bit. Ain’t that right, angel?” He asks, hands fixed on the inside of both your thighs, dangerously close to where you desperately need him. 
Your breathing is heavy, heart running a mile a minute. “Dr. Miller,” you whine. “Please,” your eyebrows furrow, eyelids fluttering shut on the high your body is giving you. 
One of his hands scoot closer in, his thumb slowly starts to caress the outer part of your pussy. “What‘s wrong, darlin’? Are ya in pain now?” 
“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking into his hold. 
“Where, baby? Tell me where, let me fix it for you,” he says in a baby, almost mockful tone. You’re too fucking turned on to analyze how he’s speaking to you. All you know is that you need his fingers, his tongue, his cock — something, to fuck you right now. 
You buck your hips once more, wordlessly showing him where. That won’t do for Dr. Miller. “Need to hear ya, angel,” he says, a mix of comfort yet stern in his voice. 
“F-fuck-” you let out. You are not about to beg your doctor to touch you right now. That is wrong on so many levels. Especially for him. He could lose his license, his entire career, his-
“Touch me, Dr. Miller, please,” you whisper desperately, not wanting to be too loud in case anyone passes by. 
A satisfied grin spreads between his cheeks. He taps your hip once, and you lift up, letting his fingers hook themselves in the hem to slide them off you. He whistles lowly at the sight, his head softly shaking in disbelief. “God damn, angel. This messy for me, baby?”
You nod your head rapidly, soft mewls of an affirmative leave your throat. 
Dr. Miller pulls the rolling chair underneath himself and he sits, lining his face right up against your sex. His hands are fixed on the outsides of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He leans in and breathes deeply. His lip twitches. His eyes are on yours again, dark, pleading. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters. 
“What?” you ask, dizzy at the notion that this man — your doctor — that you just met is mere centimeters away from your face. 
“Tell me to stop,” he nearly demands. 
You shift your hips, bringing yourself closer to his mouth. 
“No.”
“Fuckin’ christ, girl,” he snarls. 
His fingers dig into your thighs, his face diving right into your core. He licks the entirety of you with the flat of his tongue, the slick building between your folds causing his eyes to fly back. 
You’re no better as your hand flies to your mouth, biting into your flesh to stop yourself from moaning out. He can feel your body writhe in his grasp, your hips utterly begging to grind against his scruffy face and hooked nose. 
Your fast-paced breathy whimpers mixed with the sounds of Dr. Miller’s slurping are all what consumes the room — consuming him, consuming you. 
His tongue massages around your entrance before he finally pushes himself in, his nose pushing against your pulsing clit. 
“Oh, Dr. Miller, yes-” you gasp out, particularly loud, at the action. You fully slap your hand over your mouth this time, immediately muffling the uncontrollable lewdness spilling from your mouth. 
Dr. Miller reluctantly pulls his tongue from you and wraps his mouth around your bud, sucking and swirling his tongue against every sweet spot of yours, nearly yanking you to your mind-blowing high. One hand leaves your thigh and makes its way to you. He rubs his middle and ring finger in your arousal before he pushes his fingers inside of you, pumping at the same pace his tongue works your clit, and that’s what does it. 
“Fuckfuckfuck-!” You scream out into your hand, biting into your palm with a sheer force you know your hand will suffer the consequences from later. He groans into your cunt, his vibrations sending further tingles up your spine. Your hips buck into Dr. Miller’s face once more, drawing out the pure ecstasy you never knew existed. 
Dr. Miller’s head finally lifts off you, a blissed look written all over his shiny face. His fingers come to a halt and find their way into his mouth; Dr. Miller is very thorough in making sure he doesn’t waste a drop. 
The action sends you clenching on nothing, and Dr. Miller’s knees damn near buckle at the sight. 
He checks the clock on his watch, and he’s still on track with his timing. His hands mindlessly reach for his pants, but he pauses as he finally realizes what the fuck he’s just done and actually doing right now. 
You notice his hesitancy, and you know it’s probably the more rational decision to just stop right here. To stop this from going any further. To let this appointment come to an end, go home, and search for a new doctor. But when your eyes drag down to the tenting fabric of his scrubs, all rational thought fades from your brain. 
“Dr. Miller,” you whisper, bringing his attention back to you. You let your legs fall impossibly wider, allowing him the space to slot his broad body between your thighs. And just like that, his hunger is back. 
He pulls his pants just enough to free himself, and holy fuck, is he huge. Thick and uncut, a slight lean to the right, and your mouth fucking drools. “Good god, you’re fucking huge,” you laugh nervously, your face hotter than the depths of hell. 
He pumps his length once, a smirk forming at your comment as he makes his way to you. He lets it rest against your drenched folds, advancings his hips softly. His tip catches at your clit, your heart skipping a beat at the sensation. “Yeah?” Dr. Miller asks. “You nervous, angel?”
You look away from him, bashful at the question. “A little,” you admit.
His hand reaches for your face, his thumb and pointer finger grabbing on your chin to make you look at him. “It’ll fit, angel,” he reassures. 
“You sure?”
“We’ll make it fit,” he tells you. 
Withdrawing himself all the way back, he guides his tip to your entrance, settling his fingers to your clit, pulling more wetness from you to make this as easy as possible. 
Steadily, Dr. Miller begins to push in, and right away, the stretch stings, a pained groan falls from your lips. He stops, his hands on your cheeks immediately. 
“You okay?” he grunts, trying his best to stay composed at how tight you are with him barely inside you. 
You open your mouth to answer, but something else — someone else beats you.
“Dr. Miller,” a nurse talks through the door, two knocks preceding their words. “Everything okay in there? Your next appointment just arrived.” 
Calm and collected, like the head of his cock is not inside of you right now, he responds. “Just finishin’ up,” he calls out. “Gimme a minute.”
Both of you remain completely still, waiting to hear the footsteps walk away. After a beat, both of you release a heavy breath neither of you realize were holding. 
Dr. Miller looks at you apologetically, both of you wincing as he pulls out of you. He pulls his pants back up in an awkwardly charged silence, tucking his shirt back in before he picks up your sweats off the ground and helps you back into them. 
Without another word, he starts for the door.
“Dr. Miller…” you trail off, nervous. 
He freezes, turning his body to you, but not meeting your face. He knows if he looks into those eyes, no one will be able to pull him from this room. “I’ve gotta get to my next patient, darlin’,” he tells you. “I’m sorry.”
The door clicks, and you’re all alone, the tears threatening to fall at the whiplash of emotional highs. You hear another soft knock, so you wipe your eyes away, your wishful thinking hoping that you don’t look as wrecked as you feel. 
The nurse who took the intake questions opens the door. “You’re all set,” he says with a smile. 
“Thank you,” you say as you gather your things.
Before you can reach the exit, a woman calls out for you. “Oh, wait up! Did Dr. Miller say when he wants to see you next?” 
“Oh, um…” you pretend to recall. You two were a little too occupied with other things to get to that part of the appointment. 
“No, he didn’t- I don’t think- I, um, I can’t remember,” you stammer, the flow of your beating heart roaring in your ears. 
“That’s no worries at all, honey. You’re good to go, then, I’ll talk with Dr. Miller, and we’ll get scheduling to call you back, okay? Have a wonderful rest of your evening,” she tells you.
As soon as you get home, you plop into your bed, eyes stinging, pussy pulsing and wet, your heart full of every emotion under the sun. 
You’re unsure of what to do or how to feel now, but one thing is for sure.
You need to see him again. 
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“Dr. Miller,” his nurse calls.
“Yeah, Dee, what’s up?”
“Your 4 o’ clock-” Dee repeats your name from the patient chart she’s looking at. “When did you wanna see her again?”
“Oh, uh-”
She speaks once more, her eyes fixed on the paperwork before her. “Her problems sound like a chiro’s issue, don’t they? Why don’t I just send a referral-”
“No,” he cuts off, a little too much power to his voice. He clears his throat. “Sorry- uh, I mean- no as in, I’ll treat her. She mentioned somethin’ else that seems more complex for one of them chiros, no offense to them. I just wanna check one more thing before I can diagnose and create a plan,” he explains. 
“Okay,” she says without rebuttal. “When should we schedule her?”
“As soon as possible.” 
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Please let me know what you guys think!!! Your feedback keeps me going, and interacting with everyone literally brings the brightest smile on my face. All my love xoxo
I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links highlighted in red on my pinned post to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.
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arminsumi · 1 day
Text
🔞 𝐀𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 | 𝟏𝟖+
𝐓𝐨-𝐁𝐞 𝐄𝐱-𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 | 𝟐
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<- 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯.
𝟑.𝟔𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 / 𝟕 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : fem reader / Gojo Satoru / (Geto Suguru)
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : your ex-boyfriend claims he isn't a playboy anymore, but is he being genuine? Another date with him leaves you a mess, and you end up asking his best friend out for coffee.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : angst, pining, drama, smut (cr**mpies, light degradation, name calling (sl*t and wh*re), c*nnilingus, bl*wjob in the backseat/risky), implied sexual relationship with Suguru
𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐞 : Heaven and Back | Often | Wine Pon You | New Rules
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You walk out of your bedroom gussied up, lips painted in a very specific shade of red.
And Shoko, laid on the couch tiredly, gapes in disbelief at you.
"Oh my god." she groans, "Please don't tell me you're going on another date with that playboy."
You act dumb, nervously touching your neck as you style your hair in the mirror some more.
"What?"
"You're wearing the Gojo Satoru lipstick."
You continue acting, "This isn't the 'Gojo Satoru' lipstick, I love this lipstick! I always wear this shade!"
She looks at you, dumbfounded by your acting, nearly laughing.
"No, that's the Gojo Satoru lipstick. I can distinctly recall his words; "That's my baby's lipstick on me." and how you giggled on his shoulder."
"Shoko, that was five years ago." you say, "It's fine. I promised him only one more date. He needs closure."
"He's had five years of closure." Shoko replies, "Angel, you're too good for him."
"He's changed!" you insist.
"No, he hasn't; I saw that look in his eyes when I saw you two on the couch. He's still a playboy, and he'll prove it to you soon enough." she says.
"I have faith in him." you say.
"How many times have I heard that?" she shakes her head, getting ready to have a smoke. "You know, Gojo Satoru has always gotten what he wants. That's why he's so fascinated by the new you; you're not giving yourself to him like you did back then."
"I have faith in him!" you emphasize. "God, just tell me I look good."
"..."
"Please. I'm nervous. He's high-class, you know. I feel like I'm going on a date with the president of the world."
Shoko sighs and heads towards the balcony to smoke.
"You look too good." she says earnestly. "He was right about that shade of lipstick on you."
Her compliment makes you light up significantly.
You fuss as you wait. Since Shoko asks, you tell her; "He ordered for someone to chauffeur me."
"Oh my god." she groans, "He's really buttering you up."
"But isn't it such a gentleman move!"
"... more like a rich boy flex." she mutters under her breath, stubbing out the end of her cigarette.
"Okay. I've got to go. See you later... um, unless I overnight by him, of course." you giggle dreamily.
"Condoms." Shoko says simply.
"He's got some."
"Bring your own, always."
"But I'm on birth control, and we've already — " you begin.
Shoko cuts you off, "I know, but have you ever heard about the whole "creampies make you fall in love" thing?"
"What?" you look dumbly. "Isn't that a myth?"
"No. Coming inside is affectionate. You're going to feel connected to him and then he'll dip when you become "too serious" for him. Just keep him at bay."
You give her advice consideration, and nod. "Okay, alright. I won't let him do it inside."
*****
While being chauffeured, you rehearse in your head how to greet your ex-boyfriend — but it doesn't help, because as soon as you're actually in his presence again, your mind goes blank and you start nervously touching at your neck and giggling to cope with his charm.
From the moment Satoru takes your hand and leads you into the restaurant, you feel like a VIP. It's such a familiar feeling; in your early twenties, when you and him dated, he showed you what it meant to be really rich.
And he was excited to shower you in lavish treatment, he loved to see you decorated in his diamonds and to see your bright smile on foreign beaches.
The effect he has on you is even noticed by the waiter, who tends to your secluded table on the rooftop. You and Satoru feel like you're in your own bubble.
"I'm serious." he says honestly, looking into your eyes.
"... you break my heart, then disappear for five years, and then come back asking for marriage." you shake your head, "Doesn't that sound insane to you? Can't you understand why I'm rejecting you?"
"I've changed."
You hum skeptically.
"Really." he tilts his head, he flicks his brow giving his expression that sad little look that really sells it for you.
"If we got married, how long would it last?"
"What do you mean? We'd be wed 'till we're dead." he grins.
You shake your head and smile at him, poking at your plate. A long silence passes.
"... let me think about it."
"... okay." his spirits lift. "But don't make me wait too long; I'm impatient." he teases.
"Too bad. I'm gonna take my time." you sass, biting a piece of meat off your fork to make a statement.
He grins at you.
*****
Food all eaten, dessert long gone. The night air feels good. Not like old times, but new times with an old lover. He knows he messed up, right? So why hasn't he apologized yet? Maybe, you theorize to yourself to justify him, maybe he's still thinking up an apology.
He stares at you from across the table, eyes hungry like a starved wolf.
"You look so good tonight." he says for the third time.
You giggle in response, "Stop..."
"I swear that shade of lipstick looks familiar." he teases, leaning over the table.
You can smell his cologne, and it entrances your heart.
"... is it?" you ask softly, pretending like you don't know what he's talking about.
He knows you're pretending, he thinks it's cute.
"You think it would look good on me too?" he asks.
You shrug like a ditzy princess, "I dunno. Wanna find out...?"
He's so quick to call the waiter for the bill, like there's a pressing issue that needs his attention.
But the only pressing issue is his hard-on pressing hot against his thigh.
*****
Giving his cock all your attention in the backseat of the car, Satoru forces his moans down so that his poor chauffeur doesn't hear through the screen divider.
You stifle a slurping sound, sliding off the tip of his cock slowly, and it makes him shudder hard. He closes his eyes, like that helps any, and tries to keep from cumming in your mouth right there.
Gojo knows your lipstick stains are going all over his cock, it drives him crazy.
Before he cums, you pull off and he mutters a small "Just you wait..." under his breath that makes you smile wide.
****
Kissy marks lead up his abs. Of course, he wants to take a photo — to preserve the memory.
"Hand here, baby. Good girl." he instructs, and in his voice right then you can hear how mature he is now, in comparison to the squeakier voice he had when you two first met.
He's not a boy anymore, he's a man. But very far from being your man, which he's trying to change.
"Lay back." he murmurs. "Spread your legs. Wider. Good girl."
Without saying a thing about it, he noses in between your thighs and shows you heaven is real, and it exists on Gojo Satoru's tongue.
"Fuck!" you clamp your thighs around his head, making him hum while sliding his tongue inside.
When you two first dated, he wasn't inexperienced — but he didn't quite know how to eat a woman out.
Five years is a long time to practice, and he definitely did. You can feel his sloped nose nudging against your clit as he kisses and sucks, sometimes nibbling softly with his teeth at your puffy lips.
Making you cum on his tongue is almost too easy for Satoru, he nearly laughs as he pulls away and licks your slick off his lips. He thinks it's a pity that he's at the wrong angle to see your eyes rolling back. But at least he sees how you throw your head back for him, and how you sound for him — like a cat, he loves it.
"Nice and messy for me now, huh?" he hums, connecting his body with yours as he crawls upwards and devours your lips.
"Mhm!" you whine, still unsteady from your orgasm, breathing frantically. "Satoru, I need you in me right now."
"Aw, but I was gonna — "
"Nowww!" you beg.
He sighs, "Can't say no to that face."
You watch intently, licking your lips, as he whips his belt off and takes his cock out. It's red from the tip down to the middle, where that familiar thick vein always catches your attention.
By your request, even though it confuses him, he squeezes his cock into a condom.
"What do you need, baby?" he asks, lowering his cock onto your pussy and rubbing it between your slicked lips.
You squeal as he flicks at your clit, then pinches your folds around his cock, making you realize his size in comparison to little you.
"I need you."
"Need me how?"
"Satoru!" you hiss annoyedly.
"I don't want to have to tease you, baby just say it."
"I want your cock inside me."
"Not nearly slutty enough." he shakes his head, drawing his cock back and forth, rubbing over your soft pussy. "You said to me in the car that you were a total, fucking slut for me, didn't you say that? Or am I imagining things?"
You start babbling, "Yeah! I'm a slut for you, I want it so bad!" you whine, "C'mon fuck me stupid!"
"That's better." he grins.
Just like how he always does, he presses his tip inside you so politely but then pushes it in too deep, making you curl like you're about to cum.
Satoru's not one to go slow for long, he'd rather pound into you hard and fast right away, to bring out that slut in you as quick as he can. Because right now, you're not nearly slutty enough for him, as he said — and he needs to see that side of you.
"Baby, get loud for me, come on." he grunts, shoving himself as deep as he can, reaching the spot that you know isn't the G-spot or your cervix, but something in-between.
"Fuck!" you almost cry, "That's so good, fuck me harder please!"
He grins, cheeky fangs on display, and goes harder until you can hardly handle it. You don't care if it hurts just a little bit, because you want to know that every inch of your ex's cock is inside you. Not just eight, eight and a half — honestly, he doesn't know where you put all of that, but he delights in watching it disappear into your hole.
"Look at you." he purrs, "How deep are you trying to suck me?"
It feels like he's going to split you in two. Sweat pours out of the both of you, bodies getting slippery.
As Satoru continues pumping his cock back and forth, in and out of you, he starts furrowing his brows together in focus — playful edge dulling as it always does when it feels good good.
"That's it, you fucking take it." he grunts, "Good girl, you're a good little slut for me huh?"
"Yeahhh I'm a good little slut for you!"
"Let me take the condom off, baby."
You know you're gonna hear it from Shoko if she knows, but in the moment you're too drunk on sex to care, and even reach back to strip the condom off your ex's cock yourself as he watches with a smirk.
"Good girl. Now flip on your side, like this." he instructs.
He slides back inside slowly, filling you inch by inch with a low groan — like he's falling in love.
And the sounds he makes as his orgasm builds up make you want to cum again, too. Each time he hits that strange spot between your G-spot and cervix, your visions sparks a little.
Hard strokes tip you over, and you lay there letting Satoru degrade you and call you a filthy slut. You'd be his anything as long as it felt this good.
"I'm so close." he warns, trying to savor the buildup.
"Cum inside me." you mewl, "Please."
"Yeahhh I'm gonna — fuck. Take my cum, be a good girl."
The broken moan he lets out as he creampies you is almost obscene. Satoru slows his thrusts as he shoots everything he has into you.
His jaw slacks, and he groans, "... prettiest little slut, aren't you? So filthy and pretty."
"I'm gonna cum againnn..." you whine, reaching down to rub frantically on your sensitive clit.
He watches you through the haze of his post-orgasm, slowly grinding his cock inside to get you there.
"Good girl."
"C-call me a slut again, please."
He laughs naughtily, "Fucking slut. Come on, finish on me. Make that cute face again, 'cute lil' whore."
Satoru always surprises you during sex in some way, this time you're surprised when he caresses your cheek as you cum. You shake and spasm, feeling each shock of your orgasm.
Panting and coming down from your high, Satoru cracks a smile.
"You were so loud." he laughs.
Reality hits you, "Oh my god, I didn't know I liked being called a slut so much!" you cover your face embarrassedly.
He rings out with laughter.
*****
After sex. What happens after sex? He's a gentleman, and that makes you tear up — not because he's a gentleman, but because he never used to be quite like this.
No, he never used to be quite like this. Even kissing you afterwards? Why was it, you wonder, that back then he couldn't love you as deeply as now, when you needed it most?
"What's wrong?" he asks.
You try to stop your crying, but it gets worse.
"Satoru." you say, sniffling, eyes pointed downwards, "I know it's been five years, but I'm still hurt."
He doesn't reply. Just awkwardly wrings his hands and sits at the edge of the bed, soft duvet covering his lap.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't really help."
"Then what can I do?"
"I don't know." you sniffle, "Go back in time and love me. You know, I needed your love back then more than I do now." you admit to both him and yourself.
Satoru purses his lips, thinking before he speaks — but then he ends up not replying at all.
Instead, he goes to wipe your tears. Something he always did towards the end of your relationship, because you were always crying.
"I should go home."
He jolts a little. "Oh. I thought you were gonna stay the night?" he croaks. Inside, he's dreading sleeping alone again.
"No." you shake your head. "I've got to stop fooling myself. We're not getting back together, you're not more than a playboy, we're not getting married — and sex with you is better than with anyone else, but a relationship can't bank on that, Satoru."
"I'm being genuine. I told you earlier that I was."
"How can I trust you?" you ask.
"Playboys don't propose marriage." he replies.
"But you're just joking about that!"
"I'm not!" he stresses, "The last time you loved me, I was just a boy. I'm a man now and I know what I want." he says roughly.
You both go silent. Then he starts speaking again, voice softer than before.
"I love you more every time I see you."
You don't say anything back. He looks stricken and confused.
"I'm gonna go." you say.
He purses his lips tightly, looking frustrated that he can't get through to you.
"I'll take you home." he says quietly.
*****
Shoko is just digging around in the freezer for therapeutic ice cream when you come into the entry way.
"You look dreadful."
"Thanks."
"Bad date?"
"The worst..."
"Still love him?"
"... yeah."
"Marriage?"
"I'm in love, not stupid." you reply.
Shoko chuckles. "Come on. Let's catch up on that series. I'm not on-call." she cheers for herself. "We can binge the whole thing."
"Shoko, where would I be without you?" you sigh appreciatively, flopping on the couch next to her, mascara smudged off and all.
"Staying the night with a playboy, probably."
"Can't argue that." you sigh, "Shoko, I'm so dumb for him, what do I do?"
"Wait. Strike at the right moment."
"I'm not a cobra."
"Buy a cobra. Let it loose on him."
"Your humor is so dark, Shoko. I love you."
"Love you more."
*****
Meanwhile, Satoru is with Suguru; who is listening to his sulking best friend.
"I'm so dumb for her. What do I do?" he groans, "Shoko's probably poisoning her against me as we speak."
Suguru thinks deeply. "Shoko..."
"I know!" Satoru nearly starts crying again. He's being so dramatic, it's hard to take him seriously. But Satoru almost never cries. So Suguru seriously thinks about solutions to his problems.
"Shoko!" Suguru realizes.
"I knowww!"
"No, Satoru, Shoko!" Suguru emphasizes, like he's just made a breakthrough, "Shoko is the answer to all your problems!"
"Ew. I'd never date Shoko."
"You're so dense. I'm not suggesting that. Shoko's her best friend, and she listens to whatever she says, like you listen to me."
"You have a point... I'm listening."
"See?" Suguru chuckles, "Now, here's what I think you should do..."
*****
"You want me to talk to Suguru?" you shake your head. "How would that help?"
"He's his best friend. If you want to find out if Satoru's no-good, you go to the best friend."
"Suguru would rather die than expose Satoru. They're not like regular best friends, they're soulmate best friends." you say, nervously touching at your neck.
Shoko shakes her head. "Are you scared to talk to Suguru or something? What actually happened between you two back then? You never told me."
You go silent and wide-eyed. Shoko's jaw drops open.
"No way. Holy shit. Oh my god. You and him...?!"
"... it was just once."
"Holy shit! Was this before, after or during you and Satoru together?"
"I'm loyal as a dog! It was after... I was feeling, um, revengeful, and Suguru was feeling lonely one night... so..."
"Suguru actually did that?! Did Satoru find out?"
"We promised to never talk about it again. You know... Suguru was so nice about it. I remember he laid me down and said "Don't worry, just cum on my tongue" or something. Ugh, he was so hot. He fucked the life out of me — I could barely fucking see straight after."
"Too much information!" Shoko plugs her ears.
You look up at the ceiling dreamily. "He's thicker than Satoru."
"My best friend is a slut!" Shoko cries.
"I am!" you cry back dramatically.
The two of you burst out laughing wickedly.
"To sluts!" Shoko toasts with an ice cream spoon.
You toast with her, "To sluts! The sluttier the better!"
"Are you gonna talk to Suguru, then? Or are you scared of your inner slut coming out?" Shoko asks.
"I'll do it. It'll be fine. I'm sure Suguru doesn't look as good in real life as he does in photos..." you reply.
You exchange a look with her. Immediately, the two of you stalk Suguru's social medias and —
"Seriously? Who doesn't have a single social in this day and age?!" You curse, only finding photos of Suguru with Satoru.
"That's just like him."
"Maybe he has a Linkedin."
"You're desperate."
"Yeah!"
"Wait, here's something...?"
You investigate further.
"It's private?!"
Shoko bursts out laughing with ice cream melting on her tongue.
"Comedy!"
"This is seriously annoying. I'm gonna friend him." you say.
Shoko looks at you. You look at Shoko.
"You wouldn't."
"I would."
"You're CRAZY."
"I am!"
"Let me watch, let me watch."
"Okay. I'm doing it."
*****
Satoru is mixing another over-sweetened, non-alcoholic cocktail to be sipped on as if he's drinking his sorrows away.
And Suguru? He's laying on the couch, ghosting social medias that he has no account with, happily enjoying a video of traditional cuisine when suddenly he sees the most outrageous, random, and bizarre notification from his mostly-dead private account.
He makes a suspicious side-eye, thinking it can't be real.
Friend request from @ 𝐘𝐍
@ 𝐘𝐍 wants to send you a message.
@ 𝐘𝐍 hey suguru 😊
"What the fuck." he whispers under his breath, blushing in a panicked kind of way.
Immediately, hot memories of you flood his mind. He sits more upright on the couch, glances nervously to check what Satoru was doing, then looks at your message again.
His heart races.
*****
"This is stupid. He's gonna leave me on read."
"Yeah. I forgot Suguru was notorious for that." Shoko sighs. "Operation: Suguru is a failure, then?"
"Yeah."
You set your phone down and continue binge watching a whole season of a trashy series on Netflix.
Your phone vibrates thirty minutes later. You check it without thinking, then scream so loud it startles Shoko right out of her zen-like Netflix mood.
"NO WAY."
"Is it him? What did he say?"
"He said 'hey'. He's online."
"Well say something!"
You panic, "What do I say?"
"Ask him for coffee! In a non-romantic way!"
"Okay."
wanna go for coffee sometime?
@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 is this about satoru or us?
it's about satoru
@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 riiight
i'm serious 😠
@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 because i wouldn't mind if it's about us
"WHAT." you scream with Shoko.
"REPLY TO HIM."
"I DON'T KNOW HOW."
"GIVE ME YOUR PHONE."
Shoko clacks her nails against the screen viciously, replying to him as you watch her type.
"That doesn't sound like I wrote it."
"Well sorry for being grammatically correct."
"Make it sound sillier."
"There."
Shoko sends it. You watch and wait with bated breath, ignoring the climactic scene on the TV because Suguru Geto was far more attention-grabbing.
"Oh my god." you clap your hand over your mouth. "Is that sexual? Is he being sexual?"
"I have no idea, Suguru's an enigma."
"Do you think Satoru is sitting with him? Are they playing us?"
Shoko shrugs. "I don't know, but I'd read that message if I were you."
You look back to your phone.
@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sooo coffee where and when?
"SHOKO WHAT DO I DO."
"I don't know."
"SHOKO."
"I DON'T KNOW. I'M STUNNED."
"ME TOO."
"I bet Satoru is cackling next to Suguru right now."
"I bet not. Listen to how sultry he is! That's three o's in there!"
Shoko thinks. "Yeah, but Suguru is always sultry. I think they're pulling a joke on us."
*****
Satoru is dozing off while his best friend texts you. Suguru's not resisting his smirk; it's plastered on his face.
@ 𝐘𝐍 tomorrow? 2pm sound ok? 🙈
@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sounds perfect.
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© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞.
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Psst hey!! Over here!
Fic writers and original story writers are the same!
Writing fanfics doesn't make you any less of a writer!
Yall are just gatekeepers. Stop being assholes. There's room for everyone!
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frost-queen · 2 days
Text
My mortal flaw // part 2 (Reader x Zuko)
Requested by: @ficsmoothie Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya, @zhochikennugget
Summary: If there was one person you hated the most it was Commander Zhao. When Zhao kills the moon spirit, it takes a drastic toll on you. Being on the brink of dying in the arms of the fire prince. [ part 1 ]
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You felt the ominous atmosphere, the moment he stepped foot on the ship. A certain chill catching your bones. It wasn’t that chilly tonight, but you still shivered. The ominous approach of his footsteps. Heavy and hard on the ship’s deck. The ship had gone silent. Holding in a breath. All of the soldiers lined up. At the very end Zuko with you by his side. Iroh a bit behind Zuko’s right shoulder. You took a deep breath when he came in vision. Standing across on the other end.
A thick smirk on his face. His walk sturdy and a bit too much air. He never gave the soldiers any of his contact. His gaze was fixated on the prince and you. You let your gaze briefly shoot over to Zuko. His posture firm as you saw him brace himself. His chest slightly puffing up as he kept his hands behind his back. His expression emotionless. Turning your gaze back to the front, he was almost near.
He might have been a fire bender, but he gave you the chills. He came to a stop before Zuko and you. – “My prince.” – he addressed with a small bow, one hand on his chest. His gaze then shifted to you. – “Water princess.” – he spoke, making you almost roll your eyes at him. The way he showed it made it seem like he had little respect for you.
“Commander Zhao.” – Zuko spoke drawing his attention back to him. – “You will the address the princess formally.” – he insisted upon. Zhao forced his mouth to smile. – “Princess Y/n.” – he said bowing his head just a bit. – “Commander Zhao.”  - you said bowing, hands holding your elbows inside your sleeves. A moment of silence fell, making you glance over at Zuko. Iroh cleared his throat. – “Shall we head inside Commander Zhao?” – Iroh offered, gesturing at the cabin.
Iroh took the lead, guiding Zhao inside. Zuko and you behind him. Zuko paused allowing you to enter first. You gave him a smile, showing him your gratitude. Zuko moved behind you, following you inside the cabin. You had come a long way since Kyoshi Island, but you weren’t fully there. Zuko’s walls had crumbled just a bit around you. Just enough to appreciate your presence more.
You didn’t expect him to cling onto you like dew to a flower. That he would be a totally different man or suddenly declare his love for you, if he even had that. No it was more an understanding. A common agreement on both parties. Nothing was going to chance this union.
Iroh and Zhao were already in the quarter when you walked in with Zuko. Zuko came standing by the map on the table. You went to Iroh, standing beside him. – “What news.” – Zuko started looking firmly at the map. Zhao cleared his throat. – “Perhaps the princess should leave the room.” – Zhao stated looking behind Zuko to you. Zuko lifted his head up, bringing his fingers closer to his palm on the table. – “The princess stays!” – he declared with a glare.
“My prince.” – Zhao started, his expression bitter like swallowing a sour apple down. – “All this talk of war, might not be something for a girl to attend.” -  Zhao let out, clearing wanting you out of the room. – “Y/n stays!” – Zuko made clear, slamming his fist against the table. – “I have no secrets for her.” – he finished looking angered at Zhao. – “Is that so?” – Zhao spoke a hint of surprise in his voice. Perhaps some mockery too.
“Forgive me my prince, but I do not believe your princess would be an asset to the room.” – Zhao slipped out, looking rather foul at you. Zuko clenched his hand, getting frustrated with him. – “She stays!” – he outed loud.
It wasn’t hard to read the room. Commander Zhao disliked you for one reason only. The reason you were a water tribe girl. If you were a girl from the fire nation, he might have belittled you too, but with less grudge. You sighed soft, getting in motion. – “I’ll leave since you are insisting.” – you said making Zuko turn around to you. – “But…” – he started. He had been keeping his foot down, insisting on your presence in the room. So hearing you give up, confused him.
“I know when I am unwanted.” – you replied loud enough for Zhao to hear. Stepping up to Zuko, you wanted a private moment with him. – “Be firm.” – you whispered to him. Letting your gaze go from Zuko with admiration to Zhao with anger. Zuko swayed his head a bit to the side, moving his hand to yours.
“Stay…” – he whispered almost breathlessly when you slipped through his fingers, already leaving the room. Zuko’s gaze met up with Iroh. Commander Zhao to his back. Iroh showed Zuko to be strong, to not show emotion with a simple expression. Zuko took a deep breath before turning back to Zhao. – “Now let’s talk.” – he said firm, pressing his palms on the table.
You were on deck, hand under your chin as you let the water from the ocean move up and down with your hand. A stream of water getting stretched out from the ocean and back down. Just mindless bending to pass the time. Commander Zhao felt like a bad omen to you. You didn’t care much for the little respect he had towards you. You did care how he could subtly belittle Zuko.
Acting as if he was higher in rank and Zuko but a foot soldier. A part of you was glad you weren’t in that room with him. You hated looking at his stupid face. On the other hand, you wanted to be in that room to make sure he wouldn’t make Zuko a fool. Kyoshi Island made you look differently upon Zuko. With more respect as to say. It sure made the union between the two of you bond.
Something you never thought was possible. You’d always hoped Zuko would melt some walls down with you. At least enough for him to respect you and perhaps if you could dream for him to show affection in any way. Even if it meant the littlest of meanings. You wanted him to be happy with you, even though you were never his choice.
The water splashed down as you heard their voices. It made you turned around, standing up straight. Commander Zhao stomped towards the railing to leave your ship. Not seeing Iroh or Zuko near him, you rushed back inside. The door swung open as you were panting with worry. You only had to look at Zuko, knowing Zhao had gotten under his skin once more. – “What happened?” – you asked with concern, going over to Zuko.
You reached your hand out to his arm. Your fingers could touch his arm but for a second before he flipped his arm up. – “Get out!” – he shouted loud with anger. It startled you, but you staid. Zuko grunted loud, brazing. – “I was only…” – you began as he cut you off with blazing fire in the room. You felt the warmth tickle your skin. – “I don’t need your pathetic sympathy!” – Zuko answered rudely.
“Zuko!” – you shouted back getting up in his face. – “I am not Zhao!” – you grabbed him by his suit. – “Damn well remember that!” – your gaze staring coldly back at him. Your little outburst made him swallow in shock. Never had he seen you counterstrike so hard against him. You let go of him with a shove. Iroh was impressed by you, tempering Zuko’s temper so easily. Zuko blinked confused, calmed down in a matter of seconds.
Taking a deep breath, you calmed down as well. – “Don’t let Zhao get under your skin. He’s not worth it.” – you told Zuko. Zuko nodded. You wanted to leave again when Zuko grabbed for your wrist, making you stop. Startled, you looked down at his hand around your wrist. Your eyes met as Zuko looked away. His grip faltered as he let go of you.
He proceeded to do as if what he had done was of no significance. You bent through your knees as a curtsy to him before leaving the room once more. – “Don’t.” – Zuko said out loud. – “I wasn’t going to say anything.” – Iroh answered innocently. – “You were thinking it.” – Zuko added with a sigh. – “All I wish to say is don’t push her away nephew. You’ll regret it.” – Iroh replied wisely. He then bowed his head to Zuko, taking his leave. Iroh found you on the deck, asking if you wanted to join him for tea. You accepted, drinking some tea under the moonlight with him.
---------------------------------
“Remember your fire breath.” – Iroh said to Zuko. Zuko took a deep breath to show him. – “Princess Y/n.” – Iroh said making you nod determined at him. Iroh nodded back. You jumped off the railing into the water. Before your feet touched the water, it turned to ice underneath you. You whistled loud for Zuko to join you. He gave his uncle one last hug before he jumped over the railing too.
Landing hard on the ice platform, you had created. He sunk to his knees from the impact as you helped him up by his elbow. Taking a firm stand, you started swaying your hands around you. The ice platform got in motion as you bend the movement of the water. The ice platform making a way through the ice cold water to get to the Northern water tribe. Zuko had his fists up, ready to fire at anyone trying to attack. His gaze fell on you, seeing you bend the water so gracefully yet with strength.
Above your head you saw balls of fire being launched at the water tribe. Your hatred for Zhao, Admiral now, growing more.  – “There is a secret entrance underneath the water.” – Zuko let out, keeping an eye out for it. You felt the movement of the water in your bones, feeling connected to it.
“There.” – you told him bending the platform over to it. The platform came to a stop as Zuko exhaled deep, a bit of flame coming out of his mouth. You came standing by his side. – “You don’t have to do this.” – he told you. – “Together.” – you reminded him holding your hand out to him. Zuko stared at your hand, then up to your warm smile. He clasped his hand in yours without a word. Both of you jumped into the water. The cold giving you a brief shock. You let go of Zuko’s hand underwater to swim. Dive and swim closer to the entrance.
Zuko emerged first, gasping loud for air. – “Y/n?” – he said looking around. You hadn’t emerged yet as he slightly started to panic. Your head came above, taking a soft breath. – “Here.” – you said as he sighed relieved. Zuko and you swam to the edge, having found a way into the Northern water tribe. Zuko helped you out of the water.
Your eye fell upon the moon high above. – “Y/n.” – Zuko called out waiting for you to join him. – “Y/n let’s go!”  -  he ordered seeing you waste time by staring at the moon. Hesitantly you came in motion, joining his side. – “I just want the Avatar.” – Zuko said to remind you. The two of you found a way outside. In shock, you stared at the chaos. Fire everywhere. The water tribe, your kin, fighting with every might against the roaring flames.
It pained your heart to see it come to this. Zhao had lost his mind. Zuko noticed you were captivated by it. He knew your heart would be bleeding from seeing this. He returned to you, grabbing you by your wrist. – “Don’t look.” – he said pulling you away. A ball of fire clashed into an ice structure above. It made some brocks of ice crumble down. You bended them away before they could crush Zuko and you.
Zuko gave you a complimenting look before going his way. You remained outside, making sure no one would follow him. The moon caught your eye again as you felt like it was trying to say something. A warning before the storm. It made you swallow nervously, unaware of what was happening down in the sacred pond.
“Zhao!” – Iroh called out with anger. – “Whatever you do to that spirit, I will unleash on you tenfold!” – Zhao laid on the ground, holding the moon spirit under his grip. He grinned, chuckling even. With trembling cheeks, he drove the blade into the moon spirit. The moon disappeared, leaving the world in a gloomy view.
You stood outside, gasping loud as suddenly the moon was gone. Your hands felt weird as you couldn’t bend anymore. Looking at your trembling hands, you couldn’t figure out what had happened. You gasped hearing fire benders come in sight. They pointed at you, firing a blast at you. Now defenceless, you couldn’t do much. You were able to deflect one or two from moving out of the way, but the third one hit you. A blast of fire hitting you in the chest.
The pain was excruciating as it send you down. It had knocked you off balance. Getting slowly up, your side felt heavily bruised. There was another blast as you couldn’t out run it. It made you cry out, falling back into the snow. Clutching your side, it felt wet. Looking at your hand, you saw it was blooded. – “Zu…Zuko…” – you forced out, dragging yourself forwards into the snow. You had lost sight of Zuko a while ago. You remained still, hoping they would presume you were dead and move on.
Trying hard not to tremble, you waited till the sounds died out. Although it wasn’t easy in this chaos. Water benders that could bend no more, falling down. Struck by fire. Your breathing became shallow as you forced yourself up. Knees weak as they could barely hold you up. Weakened and bleeding, you shuffled forwards, pushing yourself forwards. – “Zuko…Zuko…” – you would whisper in search for him.
Zuko panted loud as he came outside. His first reaction was to look around for you. – “Y/n?” – he said suddenly noticing the moon was gone. The world turned grim. He saw water benders around him try to bend with no success. His eyes widened, knowing it must happen to you as well. – “Y/n!” – he called out, running to look for you. You found your way to a bridge, shivering as you tried to keep your eyes open.
Another person came running towards you as it made you look. They came to a sudden stop in shock. Your expression hardened. – “Zhao!” – you said bitter. Zhao stared in shock at you, till he saw how weakened you were. He straightened his posture with a chuckle. You wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. Moving your hands forwards you expected him to be hit by water. Yet nothing came.
Remembering again, you turned your hand to you, shaking with realization. Zhao laughed loud at your vulnerability. – “What’s the matter princess, can’t bend?” – Zhao mocked. – “Don’t worry.” – he said taking a stand. – “I still can.” – he finished punching fire at you. The impact made you fall back, crying in pain. You pulled yourself back up with every might of you. You weren’t going to let him win easily.
“You can’t win from me.” – he said teasingly. You took a stand with buckling knees and trembling hands. The side of your dress already stained with blood. Zhao readied himself to fire at you again, when he got interrupted by another blast of fire. – “Zhao!” – turning your head a bit, you saw Zuko come in sight. – “You took everything from me!” – he shouted bending more fire at him. Zhao got knocked back.
Zuko put all his anger into his bending, overwhelming Zhao with fire. Zhao crawled up to the side of the bridge, leaning against it. Worn out. – “Zu…Zuko…” – you said, drawing his attention to you. Zuko’s eyes widened seeing the state of you. Your knees gave in, making you collapse. Zuko caught you before your body could hit the ground. Zhao wanted to get up as he got hit by fire, the wall of the bridge, collapsing as he got blasted through it.
Iroh had a murderous look in his eye, his hands still in position. Zuko looked with concern at you. – “How… who did…” – he asked looking at the blood on your dress. He placed his hand against your cheek, to stop you from trembling. – “Y/n.” – Zuko said, his gaze soft, eyes glossy. – “Y/n.” – he repeated when you weren’t giving him much reaction.
“Y/n.” – he said more desperate as the pain reflected in his eyes. He looked down at your chest, seeing it barely move, hinting your breathing was dimming out. – “No, no no no no, Y/n!” – he called out panicking. – “Y/n!” – his eyes teary now. He panted out a breath, desperate to get a reaction out of you. – “Y/n!” – he called out again, shaking your shoulder. – “No! no!” – he cried out followed by a scream of agony. Iroh lowered his head in respect, grieving for his nephew. – “Please… Y/n please… don’t leave me yet…” – he said letting his forehead lean against yours.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Y/n.” – he sobbed out. – “Come back to me.” – his voice cracked a bit as a tear fell on your cheek. He shakily pressed his lips onto your forehead. – “I am not done with you. You still haven’t scolded me enough.” – he said in the hopes it would break a reaction out of you. – “Please Y/n… I…I… damn it!” – he cursed out. – “You cannot make me care for you and leave me like this!” – he outed in pain.
“So you care.” – you muttered weakly with a cough. Zuko’s eyes widened, looking down at you. You slowly opened your eyes, giving him a faint smile. Zuko grabbed your cheek, forcing his lips down on you. Your eyes widened more. His kiss was tender and soft. – “Look what you made me do Y/n.” – he said with a smile through his tears.
It made you chuckle out a laugh, only to be reminded of your pain once more. – “Uncle!” – Zuko called out. Iroh came running over, helping you up. Zuko picked you up in his arms, as you were still too weak to walk. – “We need to get to the ship now!” – he ordered. His uncle nodded firm. – “I’ll clear the way.” – he said not taking his task lightly.
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lukesaprince · 2 days
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Rich Part 20
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Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. Mission: 'have a normal relationship' starts with a disagreement and a night out with friends.
Warning: therapy, brief mention of death/grief, mention of daddy!kink, choking... I think that's it? 😅 
Word count: 12k+
Author's note: it's been a while... again but she's finally here. The vote I put out a couple of days ago determined the ending of this chapter so the cliffhanger is basically you guys' fault but you didn't hear it from me. ANYWAY enjoy love you lots 😚
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“God y’so tight, baby.” Harry hissed from above you.
You could only whine in response. His touch was everywhere. Your back, your chest, your core, all the way down to your tense calves. His weight was pressed on your hips, holding you into the bed while his hands worked their magic anywhere there was a tight spot. And there wasn’t just one. 
“What have you been up to? Seriously. Is there another man?”
“Oh yeah.” You snorted, pressing your cheek into the mattress so your words weren’t muffled by the bedding anymore. Your brows knotted together as you spoke through a heavy breath, trying so hard not to make another noise of pain. “Me and my computer have been through some wild times. Fucked me up so good I can’t breathe.”
“That’s not funny.” He tutted, kneading his palms into your mid back in a way that had you groaning. “Your back is really bad, y/n. It shouldn’t be this bad for someone your age.”
“You can stop if it’s such an inconvenience.” You bit back with far more attitude than warranted for. 
“It’s not an inconvenience.” He sighed, your attitude sparking something in him. A need to correct it and a churn in his stomach that told him something was wrong. You had been a little… snappy the last couple of days. He was worried that he had done something, or that something had happened to you. There was the obvious phone call but you assured him you were okay about it. And he didn’t lie. He promised you he wouldn’t and he stuck by that. 
“I’m worried for you. You’re always sitting with bad posture. Your bed isn’t a good place to study, love. Maybe we need to invest in a different chair for your table.”
It was such a dad thing to say and while you appreciated the worry, it was the last thing you wanted to speak about. Mostly because you were fine with your current situation and you didn’t really need Harry rearranging your place. 
“Yeah, maybe.” 
Harry didn’t like your silence. You were a quiet thing when he first met you but you weren’t like that anymore. You always had something to say or comment on, or show him on social media. You couldn’t keep quiet even during shows and movies and yet it felt like you didn’t have anything to say to him. 
He hated it. 
“Is everything alright?” He asked the question softly, unable to hold back from asking. Harry knew a massage wasn’t the best time to ask you about your feelings, but it had been eating at him. 
He was still working on the knots in your back like he had trained his entire life for it. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Harry was good at giving massages considering his hands were good for many things that you already had the pleasure of experiencing. 
It wasn’t a particularly enjoyable experience. Some spots felt good to work on and others where you were glad you were pressed to the bed because the ache was so bad you wanted to crawl out of your own skin. 
You spent days and nights on your computer and most of the time it was in bed or on an uncomfortable chair so your body was suffering terribly. It was one of the reasons why you were barely dressed and being massaged on Harry’s bed rather than stuffed full of dick to finally christen the bed after sleeping together again. 
The other reason was that you were still thinking about that phone call. You had been thinking about it non-stop over the last couple of days since you saw him and the more you thought about it, the more it bugged you. It just hadn’t left your brain and you were trying so hard, so fucking hard to just be okay with him not wanting to tell you something. 
Everyone was allowed to keep things to themselves. You did. You certainly didn’t share every thought and feeling with Harry, or anyone really, but you also didn’t feel like you had any problems or secrets that he might need to know about. You didn’t have secret phone calls or hidden text messages, nor did you blatantly say that you didn’t want to tell him something.
While a suspicious phone call had only happened once and since then there was nothing out of the ordinary, you couldn’t help but feel lied to. You went over it in your head time and time again, trying to think of what it could be or why he wouldn’t want to tell you and every situation felt catastrophic. 
It was this endless cycle of trying to figure out what that call was about and trying to make yourself be okay with it. But you couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried, there was this voice in the back of your head screaming at you to take this as a red flag, as a sign of him keeping things from you or not really changing as much as you thought he did.
You thought you trusted him again, that you already processed what happened and had been able to rebuild your trust and affection for him again while you two explored your relationship. But maybe it wasn’t as clear-cut as you thought it would be. 
Maybe the other shoe hadn’t dropped yet. 
“I think the answer is obvious.” You groaned, digging your fingers into the bedding to ground you. He wasn’t going particularly hard but it hurt like nothing else. 
“No, I mean… is there something else bothering you? You’ve been a bit quiet recently, that’s all.” 
You didn’t reply right away, but you also didn’t want to seem like something was wrong. Even with these ill feelings… you didn’t want to jump the gun. You wanted to give him a chance to explain things when he was ready. It was clearly family related so you wanted to respect that maybe it was too private for you to know about. 
Still… you two loved each other. Why wouldn’t he trust you? He knew practically everything about your family and you still felt like you hardly knew anything aside from basic surface information about his. 
“I’m just really tired. It’s been a long week.” You sighed. 
Harry didn’t want to admit it but he didn’t believe your response. 
“It’s okay. I understand.” He replied, smoothing his hands over your back. “Do you want me to continue?” 
“No. It’s okay.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and turned your face to look back at him. His eyes connected to yours and you felt your heart pang in your chest. There was so much uncertainty behind love in his gaze. You had a feeling he was seeing through your lies. 
Harry was quick to swing his leg back over your hips so you could move. When you were free you held your arm to your chest and placed your spare hand on his cheek so you could sit up and kiss him. “Thank you, H.” 
He smiled softly, “you’re welcome, darling.” He searched your eyes for a moment and grabbed the hand towel beside you to wipe his hands clean of the massage lotion he was using on you. “I love you. You know that right?”
“Of course I do.” You grabbed your t-shirt and slipped it back on, feeling your body ache with every movement. 
“And you can tell me when something is wrong. When I’ve done something wrong. You know that too right?”
He swore he could see your eyes crack for a second, but you hid it with that gorgeous smile of yours while you untucked your hair from the back of your shirt and grabbed his face with both hands. “Always.” You kissed him again softly, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Harry smiled. “Let me go wash my hands then we can watch something. Yeah? Archie, you can come back up now.” He looked over at the big fluff laying on his dog bed on the floor who immediately jumped up to join you on the bed. 
“My son!” you exclaimed, your mood immediately lifting as your arms widened to embrace him. He lept into them, completely ignoring Harry getting up while pushing you back onto the bed and licking you all over your face. His tail was wagging an obscene amount and you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. 
Harry smiled at the sight and disappeared into his bathroom to wash his hands. He returned a moment later to find you in the exact same position, except with Archie flat on top of you. Archie was a big boy and all Harry could see beneath the fur was your arms wrapped around him, your legs and your face peeking over Archie’s shoulder. 
“Always stealing my damn woman.” Harry tutted, climbing back onto the bed before running his fingers through the back of Archie’s head. 
“You’re gonna have to put on the show, H. I’m trapped.” You let out an exasperated sigh and looked at him with a grin while Archie’s tail wagged erratically. The stink knew you were talking about him. 
“Sometimes I think he’s trying to steal you on purpose. Damn cockblocker” Harry muttered, smirking at the way you rolled your eyes. He grabbed the remote from his bedside table and switched to Netflix. 
“I think my back is the cockblock tonight.” And your anxious feelings. “With the way you toss me around, I think you’d undo all the good work you’ve done tonight.” 
“Darling you know damn well that I can move your body however I want and make it feel fucking fantastic.” He flashed you a glance that almost challenged you to take him up on your claim. To finally christen his bed. The same bed he tied you up on, spanked you on, made you squirt and beg… where he took your anal virginity. Where you called him Daddy… 
But you couldn’t exactly force yourself to get in the mood. 
“I think your humility is my favourite quality of yours.” You rolled your eyes which earnt a pinch on your thigh in reprimand. Archie jerked at the way your thigh tensed at the bite of pain and was quick to bark at Harry. “See. Even Archie agrees.”
“You’re lucky I love you.” He remarked. You grinned and puckered your lips, making kissing noises until he leaned over you to give you a peck. 
“No, you’re lucky. It’s two against one now Harry and you know Archie will always take my side.”
Harry just laughed and played the show, shuffling down so you two were sharing the pillow and he was close to you. You loved spending time together like this. Just you two (and Archie) in your little bubble where you could relax and just exist in the same space and be happy. 
Your legs were intertwined as one and Archie was happy as anything using you as a bed. It was perfect. Until Harry had to talk about a topic that just ruined the vibe. 
“Can I ask you something?” Harry asked after a bit of quiet. You hummed a yes in reply. “Are you ready to tell your parents about us?” 
You froze at the question and looked at him. His expression was soft, but you could see the weight behind his question. You were ready, before that damn phone call. You wanted to be out in the open and just live like a normal couple. Sure you were nervous for your parents’ reaction, but you were sure about your relationship and you were ready to fight for it and try and smooth things over if they had an adverse reaction.
But now you had these doubts and worries that there was something major that Harry was keeping from you and you weren’t really sure. You were sure about your relationship; that hadn’t changed. But you weren’t sure if you were ready to fight to defend him just yet if there was this big secret looming over your shoulders.
You felt a little sensitive about it, maybe too sensitive considering he told you he wasn’t ready to speak about it, not that he would never tell you. But you couldn’t help how you felt and how uneasy it was to know he was hiding something from you. Kinda like when someone started a sentence with ‘no offense’. It didn’t really make anyone feel better. 
Your parents had every right to disagree with your relationship and while deep down you knew they’d never disown you and it wouldn’t get that far, the reality was that you needed to ask yourself if Harry was worth it.
It was a question you had asked yourself over and over and thought long and hard about and something you already answered and came to terms with when you two started dating. If the answer was anything but an unequivocal yes you never would’ve given him a second chance. 
That answer hadn’t changed and the moment that answer became no was the moment you knew there was a serious problem. But you still weren’t ready just yet. You thought you were, but that phone call shook you up more than you would’ve liked.
“I don’t know if I am.” You replied softly.
Harry was a little shocked at your reply and his usual ability to hide how he was feeling seemed to disappear. Things had been going so well with you two that it felt like the obvious next step and it felt right. He thought that after being together with friends, your family was the next step. It had always been what you wanted and what you talked about.
And now that he directly asked you, you said no?
“Okay…” he cleared his throat and sat up straight in the bed. “Can I ask why?”
“I guess I just want our friends to be good with us first, that’s all.” You didn’t really want to share your concerns about the phone call. It was still so fresh and you wanted to at least give him the benefit of the doubt and a chance to tell you about it himself. “You always said that it would be good like that. So they could support us if it didn’t go very well.”
“I did say that and I know I said I wanted to go at your pace, but I also don’t want to be living in secret forever.” There was a heavy undertone in his voice and you weren’t really sure where it was coming from. “You can’t even stay tonight because your parents think you’re at Lucy’s. I have to drop you off at her place so no one will see your car. It’s a bit ridiculous.”
You could sense the shift in the conversation and his tone. He was getting a bit defensive and it felt unwarranted given how he had always put the decision to you. Now at the first proper time he’s checked in to see how you’re feeling about it, he turns around and says it’s ridiculous?
“I know it’s ridiculous.” You sighed, sitting up so Archie was forced to get off you. Once you were free you crossed your legs and faced Harry properly. “But we both knew this was what it was going to be like. It won’t be like this forever.”
“I want it to be on your terms y/n, I do, and I’m not saying I won’t be patient. But do you not find it frustrating?” 
You found his accusation a little irritating, but you also understood it. This was the first time you two were properly talking about it and it was frustrating. But you didn’t find it as bad as Harry seemed to. Yeah, you would’ve liked to be able to do things near your childhood home, but you were happy with the little life you two were building. 
You understood the inconvenience though. Though he said the distance wasn’t a problem for him, you felt bad that he was always driving and you couldn’t return the favor as often. 
“I do.” You sighed, “We can barely spend time here because of it. You constantly have to find someone to take care of Archie and I know you hate leaving him overnight. And you always have to drive to me. I get it.”
“It’s not about the driving, y/n. It’s the fact that I can’t walk out of my house with you without pretending you’re just stopping by to see my dog. Or that we can’t do things around here without planning a secondary meeting point. I want your presence all over my house and my life but we’re constantly in a time crunch.”
He was starting to get accusatory now. Harry didn’t mean it in that way and he was trying to keep his frustrations at bay because he wasn’t upset at you. He respected that you weren’t ready but it was still a frustrating situation. 
“I know. But we get that all the time at my place. We can be a normal couple there and do whatever we want. Isn’t that enough for now?” 
“Yes…” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “No, yeah you’re right. You’re right. What we have is the best it can be given the circumstances.”
Something about the way he phrased that irked you and you couldn’t explain why. The best it can be given the circumstances. You were happy with how things were and how they were progressing. You were still taking your time which is what you wanted and what Harry claimed to want too. But you almost felt like he was getting comfortable. Too comfortable where he was almost forgetting how deeply he hurt you. 
And barely a week after he told you he fucking loved you. 
There was a… a tiny sliver in your brain that told you he was just waiting to sleep with you again to somehow fuck things up so you’d break up with him. That he liked the sex but the rest was too much for him. That he… told you he loved you just to convince you this was real. 
You didn’t believe it. Not when you saw and believed how earnest he was and how important the gesture of his pearl necklace was to you and him. But the doubt was still there. The tiny sliver of doubt. 
“You’re right. Given the circumstances where you broke my trust and lied to me constantly, I think we have the best it can be.” You grabbed your drink bottle from the bedside table then got off the bed and started to walk out of the room.
“God. Fuck.” Harry cursed, “Y/n, I didn’t mean…” He was quick to get up and follow you, fearing that he suddenly fucked up the entire conversation. He didn’t want you to leave. “Baby, don’t leave.” He called after you, practically running down the stairs to catch up.
“I’m not leaving. I’m filling up my drink bottle.” You replied simply, barely looking at him over your shoulder.
“I think about what I did to you every fucking day, y/n.” He stressed, following you into the kitchen. “Every day.”
“I believe you.” You shrugged while heading into his walk-in pantry where the fridge was. 
Harry felt like his whole world was about to explode. Expressing his frustrations turned into him shoving his foot in his mouth and fucking everything up. And now… now it was like you were revealing all these hidden feelings you had towards him. He could read it in your body language and the way you walked away from him.
In hindsight, he should’ve just left the conversation about your parents at your first response. He should’ve just bulshitted some reply about how he understood when in reality he was frustrated by the entire thing. But he couldn’t do that. Not when his frustrations went far deeper than having to find a dogsitter for Archie (i.e. his son) because you couldn’t spend the night at his house.
Harry could feel the apprehension in the air. It lingered like stale cigarette smoke or the heavy aftermath of a humid day. You were starting to doubt the relationship or him or everything or-well he didn’t fucking know. But he knew something was going on. It was why he asked you during your massage and why he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
Something was wrong and you weren’t telling him and he just wanted to shake you and force the words out of your mouth.
“Do you?” You could feel his eyes focused right on you from where he stood in the doorway, practically trapping you in the small space.  “I can read you, y/n. I can tell you don’t.”
“Harry, I do believe you.” You sighed, setting your drink bottle down on the bench before crossing your arms. “ I do. But I just don’t understand why you’re rushing me with this.”
“I’m not rushing you. That wasn’t my intention. I was just… expressing my frustrations about it all.”
“You’re allowed to do that, but saying that what we have is the best given the circumstances makes it sound kind of shit.” You looked down at the floor, avoiding his eye contact. He walked towards you and without any words wrapped his arms around your body to tuck you into his chest. 
“I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.” He murmured, resting his chin on the top of your head. It took a moment for you to relax into it, but once you did he could feel the immediate warmth as you pressed your cheek to his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry”
“No. You shouldn’t have. I think what we have is pretty great but if you don't think that then…”
“No.” He deadpanned, immediately pulling back to look at you. He slid his hands over your face, cradling it like you were the most precious thing in the world. “What we have is perfect. I love every moment I have with you, even when you’re hiding in the front seat so the neighbours can’t see you.” 
A small smile broke on your lips at his comment, “I want us to get to a place where we can do whatever we want. I think you just need to be a bit patient with me.”
“You’re right.” Harry nodded, scanning your face, “I put you through hell. I know I did. I think I just got a little caught up in you and the romance and jumped too far ahead and that’s my fault. I want to be with you all the time without hiding anything from anyone and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” You smiled softly, still feeling that swirl of uneasiness in your chest. “But we’re going to start moving things forward in other ways. Like with our friends. Right?”
“Yes. Definitely,” he nodded, smoothing his hands down your neck to your shoulders. “I’ll call Niall. Just make sure your friends are free and I’ll organise it.”
“Okay.” 
“Okay… I love you.” He murmured, running his thumb over your cheek. 
“I love you too.” 
//
“There’s something going on with her Max, I’m telling you. I can sense it.” Harry tapped his foot anxiously on the floor, repeatedly combing through Princess’ soft due. 
“Okay… have you asked her about it?” Max replied, scanning her eyes over his cagey posture.
“Of course I have. She’s just been…” He let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know. It’s unnerving. Like she’s hiding something from me and I can’t figure out what.” 
“Do you think it has anything to do with the call to your mother? About Gemma?”
“No.” He replied instantly, eyes snapping to hers. 
“That was a fast reaction. Are you sure?” She cocked her head and the look she gave him was one Harry despised. It was a look that told him that she already knew the answer. She was just waiting on whether he’d tell the truth or not. 
“She seemed understanding about it. And she hasn’t brought it back up.” He shrugged. 
“Have you brought it back up?”
“…No.” Harry replied hesitantly, having a semi-good idea of what she was going to say next. 
Max paused, closing her notebook over her crossed legs. “Allow me to do a run-through.”
“Of what?” His movements on Princess’ hair paused for a moment, already hating wherever Alex was going with this.
“Your relationship. Just to put it into perspective.” 
“I don’t need a run-through, Max, I’m in the relationship.” Harry scoffed, “I know what I’ve done and I know what’s happened.”
“Okay. Then let me ask you why you don’t think that lying to her about your family hurt her? She knows you’re hiding something from her. You lied about your family and you broke your promise to her.”
“I’m not lying, Max.” Harry defended, in serious denial about his own actions. “I told her that I didn’t want to hide the phone call but that I wasn’t ready to talk about it. That’s not a lie.”
Max sighed and opened up the book again, looking between him and her page as she started jotting down notes. Harry hated it when she did that. He knew it was some therapist trick to make the patient anxious or more truthful or something that honestly worked too well on him. 
“You know this doesn’t work if you’re dishonest. We’ve been doing this far too long for you to start lying now.” 
“I’m not being dishonest.” He breathed out a dry laugh, “I told her that I wasn’t going to pretend that the phone didn’t happen, just that I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I’m allowed to keep things from her.”
“You’re making excuses. You’ve hid a huge part of your life from her. That is a lie, Harry.” 
Harry had a love-hate relationship with Max. She kept him grounded and provided unfiltered support and advice. He could say anything to her and she’d know how to handle it and for that he would be forever grateful to her. She had saved his life more than once. But he hated that she was always right.
Because he was lying. He was a big fat fucking liar and even though he wanted to try and spin the story so it sounded like he was doing the right thing, he wasn’t and he knew it. He broke his promise to you and he disrespected you by hiding such a big part of his life.
At the same time though… this secret was something he had kept to himself for a long time. Aside from Max, there was only a select few in Australia who knew about it and that was only because they knew Gemma. You would be the first person he tells in years and that wasn’t an easy thing to do. He couldn’t just say it and Harry had to be prepared for it to change your relationship completely. 
“Do you think I want to lie to her?” He snapped, the uptick of his tone causing Princess to meow loudly as some sort of reprimand. He exhaled deeply to try and calm himself, “I would give my life for hers in a fucking heartbeat. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.” 
“So why have you kept it a secret for so long?” 
It took a long moment of silence for Harry to finally muster up the words. He had uttered those words to Max more times than he could count and yet this time it was harder than ever. He knew it was because this had to do with you. 
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?” Max prompted gently after sensing that those two words were a complete sentence. 
“That she’ll stop loving me.” He held his gaze firmly to Princess, unable to look Max in the eye. “That she’ll find me disgusting. Fuck I find me disgusting. Why wouldn’t she?… I’m a… I’m a coward.”
“Do you think y/n would leave you over this?”
“I don’t know. I think it would put our relationship back. She wouldn’t trust me anymore.”
“Isn’t that a decision she needs to make? You decided to hide what Ethan did and it had dire consequences. You took away her choice then and that’s what you’re doing now.” Max could see the way Harry visibly tensed at her mentioning of Ethan, but it didn’t last very long before his shoulders were starting to sink low. Harry looked deflated.
“I’m not… I don’t know, Max.”
“You know what the right thing to do is, Harry. Telling yourself she’s better off not knowing is an excuse.”
“I know it’s an excuse. I know.” His voice was almost pleading, desperate like he just wanted to skip the middle and move to the end where his last secret was out in the open and you two were okay. 
“Speaking to her about it might actually make you feel better. It might help you work through it in preparation for contacting Gemma again… if that’s something you still want.” 
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Just consider it.” she smiled softly, “Your mother wants you to go home for Gemma’s birthday, right? Why don’t we make that a goal? There’s still a few more months.” 
And there it was. The phone call. One of the reasons Harry booked an extra session this week. 
“I don’t even know what I’d say to either of them.” Harry exhaled deeply, “How do I apologise to Gemma and how do I explain to y/n that I left my only sister in her greatest time of need? It’s just fucked. And it’s all my fault.”
“Why don’t you write a letter?” Max suggested. “One to Gemma and one to y/n. You don’t need to send it but you can get your feelings out and try and organise your thoughts about it all. You’ve kept a journal in the past and it helped you. Addressing the people you’ve hurt might… help you find some clarity.”
“Then what?”
“Then you can start small.” She shrugged, “A text, a call. Whatever you think is the appropriate approach to reach out to Gemma again. I know it’s been a while since you contacted her but we can work through it together. I can be there every step of the way if you want me to.”
It was something Harry had wanted to do for a long time. His relationship with his family was so important to him and yet it was the one thing he had yet made a true effort to try and fix. Well, he did in the beginning, but now it almost felt like too little too late. But his mum constantly encouraged him to reach out to Gemma again and she always invited him to every special family event. She was the one constant in his life and he knew that all she ever wanted was her two children in the same house again.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I can ask you to do. These are just suggestions. You know that.” Max smiled.
“I know.” He murmured, looking over at Princess before the little clock on the side table next to the couch caught his peripheral vision. Finally. “My times up.” He announced it without any room for interpretation and stood from the couch.
“I can extend, if you need.” Max followed suit and stood up, setting her notebook on the chair behind her. 
“No. It’s okay. I’ll see you next week.” Harry smiled, feeling relief that he was able to leave the room and process some of this by himself. “Bye Princess.” He reached down and gave Princess one more scratch behind his fluffy ears before turning back to his therapist. “Thanks Max”
//
H: Are you coming here before we go? I miss you. :(
You smiled to yourself, feeling that dizzying and slightly overwhelming love you had for him. Like a happy burning in your heart. Harry was such a baby sometimes and it honestly wasn’t what you expected when you started dating him. But you couldn’t lie, you did love it. He could be as dominating as anything (which you also frothed over) then be a needy child a moment later. 
You: No. We’re having pres here then we’ll meet you at the bar Xx 
H: Ok. What are you wearing tonight? 
You: You’ll seeeeee. You’ll like it
H: I know I will. H: Can’t wait to get my hands on you. Text me when you’re on your way. X
“Ugh. You’re disgusting.” Lucy rolled her eyes, throwing her empty can at you. You rolled your eyes and heart reacted to Harry’s message before turning off your phone and throwing it onto the carpet of Lucy’s floor.
“Whatever. I’m in love, remember.” You teased, grabbing your glass to finish off the last bit of the sweet sugary alcohol that was getting you relaxed and giddy for what the night was going to bring. You needed to get drunk to get out of your head. At this point it might’ve been the only thing to not ruin the night. 
“It’s so cute!” Priya beamed, eyes meeting yours for a moment as she blended her eyeshadow. “I can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s so exciting.”
“I think it’s exciting.” Lucy defended, “I wouldn’t have helped the dickhead if I didn’t like him. I’m just…” she paused to flick her eyeliner out, her hand slightly shaky from the couple drinks she already had. “…weary. I’m your best friend, I’m allowed to look at this through the eyes of a parent.”
“I appreciate that, Luce. I really do, but tonight I want you to look at him as a friend. I want you to get to know him, like actually get to know him. He’s… I can see a future with him and I want our lives to be normal.” You explained, feeling that buzz start to grow slowly and slowly. 
“You’re starting off in the most un-normal way, babe.” She snorted. “Your relationship is never going to be normal. Your age gap, your living situation. None of it is normal.”
“Okay, seriously. Are you going to be like this all night?” You snapped, far too aggressive for her comment. She was just telling the truth, something that you valued heavily in your friendship. 
“Jeez. I’m sorry. I’m just telling the truth.” Lucy defended. 
“No… I know…” you sighed, looking at her apologetically. You didn’t mean to snap. You were just a little on edge and her reality check seemed to trigger you somehow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve just… been going through it I think.”
Lucy had a feeling something was wrong. From the moment you walked in her door she could sense something was wrong. But she didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news or the one to ruin the vibe. She’d ask you about it, but not tonight. 
“Okay well we can go through it tomorrow, okay?” She responded softly. “You want to have a good night, so let’s have a good night.” Her tone turned positive, trying to comfort you. “here-” she then got up and passed you another drink, squeezing your arm comfortingly before she plopped back onto the floor where she was doing her makeup. 
“Agreed. Let’s have a good night.” You smiled, opening the can to start your third drink of the night. 
By the time you were at the bar, all three of you were sufficiently tipsy. You didn’t want to be too drunk, so you cut yourself off at four drinks while Priya had a few extra. Lucy cut herself off earlier than you but you were all in a good mood. 
It was a nice bar in the city, barely 30 minutes by Uber. Harry booked a booth for the night which you were all excited about. None of you had ever done that before but Harry picked the place and decided that he wanted everyone to be comfortable for the night. His shout. 
You tried to offer money but he was adamant (as usual) that you weren’t going to pay a cent. He even went as far as booking your Uber for you because he wanted to make sure you were safe, which was a gesture all three of you appreciated. 
Harry, Niall and Jed were at the bar a lot earlier than you three were. They met at Harry’s first and went in together, which gave Harry ample opportunity to chat with Niall and Jed while it was just them. He truly was as happy as ever that Niall and Jed were in a relationship now, and to think they properly bonded over Harry’s fucked up situation. 
It was just so nice to see. Jed was still a bit reserved, but Niall brought him out of his shell and Harry could literally feel the happiness radiating off of them. It was intoxicating and he was excited for you to properly get to know the couple as Harry knew them. Niall was so important to him, and now Jed was, as an extension of him so this night meant a lot to Harry. 
Getting to know Jed made Harry realise that this night was way overdue. He couldn’t wait for you to arrive, really. All night he had been checking his phone to see if you texted him, like some lovesick puppy with attachment issues. But he couldn’t help it. 
You were nearing your end of term, only a week and a bit to go before you got a break so you were busy as ever. He had only managed to see you once this week and he was getting antsy. Due to Harry’s own work schedule you were only able to get dinner together in the city once he finished work before you had to go home, so he was looking forward to seeing you again. 
He tried to get you to spend the night at his house tonight but you didn’t want to ditch your friends or have to sneak out early morning which he understood. Harry hoped that tonight was the beginning of your free and open relationship. He wanted more nights like this where you two were with your friends and the people you cared about. 
People that included both your families. He thought a lot about what Alex said to him about telling you the truth. He didn’t want to keep it from you anymore but at the same time… he was so scared. He was scared to make amends with his sister and he was scared to tell you the truth. But he needed to. He just… needed to work himself up to it. 
To start though, he wanted to win over your friends. Which was his focus for the night. 
“Your girl is late, mate. I almost forgot how long it takes girls to get ready.” Niall joked, taking a sip of his beer. 
“Her Uber’s arrived. She’ll be here soon.” Harry replied, looking down at his phone to see if you texted him. 
It was like he spoke you into existence because a moment later his eyes connected to you as you were walking through the crowd of people. Lucy was guiding you and Priya through the crowd, all holding hands in this way that Harry found adorable. You were last in the line and looking so drop-dead fucking gorgeous his cock stirred in his pants. Like he was under the influence of some Pavlov experiment where just the sight of you got him hard. 
He could see the glitter on your eyes from here, the deep shade of your lipstick and shimmer you somehow applied to your skin. You were like a fairy and Harry was proper obsessed with whatever you had done to your skin and makeup. He had seen you dressed nice before, even dressed up to go out like this. But there was something different about tonight. 
You were radiant and when you got a bit closer and all three men stood to greet you, he felt himself even have to hold back a curse on what you were wearing. Short and black; a little dress with thin straps that fell mid thigh. You paired it with sneakers which he found adorable, but there was nothing adorable about the way you were staring at him. 
Harry specifically wore something he thought you’d like and by your reaction, he had picked right. Black pants and a black linen shirt, unbuttoned hairway with the sleeves rolled up. You liked it when he showed his chest, so he did just that. He wore his signature cross necklace and chose an excessive amount of chunky rings, just because you liked picturing his hand around your neck in them. 
You looked at him like you wanted to devour him, and he was sure he looked at you just the same. 
“Hi baby.” Harry greeted once the three of you told your name to the security guard manning the little rope that separated the busy dance floor from the few booths the club offered. He brought you into a tight hug, taking advantage of being the last to greet each other while the others made small talk. “You look…” he pulled away and put his hands on your hips, eyeing you all over “…fucking incredible. Drop dead gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” You blushed, sliding your hands over his shirt to feel the material. “I love this. You look so good.”
“‘S all for you.” He spoke in your ear, dipping in so you could hear him properly over the music. You fisted his shirt in your hands, desperate to kiss him. 
But it was a bit weird. 
Not between you and Harry (though there was that underlying anxiety you had in the pit of your stomach), but it was weird to be out with people you knew. It shouldn’t have been considering he was always at your place and you two were out and about like normal, but so far it had always been just you two. 
He saw Maeve and Jay here and there but this was the first proper thing as a couple where it wasn’t just you two in your bubble working through your feelings and getting to know each other on another level. It still felt like you had to hide the fact that you two were dating. 
“Oh come on you two. Kiss before I die from waiting.” Niall yelled, rolling his eyes while plopping back down into the booth. 
Harry just ignored him and grabbed your chin to pull you in for a kiss. Your tipsy giggle at the movement turned into a moan, but he kept it reasonably quick and clean before pulling away. “Hi gorgeous.” He smiled, pecking you again. 
“Hi.” You grinned, wiping off the bit of lipstick on his mouth with your thumb before he dragged you alongside him back into the booth.  
“I ordered you a drink,” Harry spoke against your ear, his arm wrapped around your waist with his hand firmly grabbing your hip. He pulled you tight against him so your whole side was pressed to his. It was like he never wanted to let you go. 
“What did you get?” You asked back, letting your left leg hook over his. 
“Something sweet and fruity. And a tequila shot.” He grinned, eyes dropping down to your body for a moment. You could tell he was tipsy already by how relaxed and touchy-feely he was being. 
“You know me so well.” You mused, patting his cheek haphazardly before your attention was caught by something Niall said across the table. 
Harry was right about Niall. He was a fucking crack-up. At the very beginning of the night, it was a tad awkward. There was small talk being yelled over the music and you all found yourselves talking in the comfort of your pairs. But Niall was a drunk social butterfly and his energy was quickly absorbed by the group within minutes and as soon as the drinks started flowing, so did the laughs. 
It was easy to talk about nothing and everything all at the same time. Jed took a little longer to open up, but the alcohol seemed to help. He was surprisingly funny when he relaxed into it, which wasn’t what you expected. It seemed like a black cat, golden retriever type of vibe but you could see how him and Niall were compatible. 
And Harry… well he was Harry. He could win a crowd with his smile only. He was easily able to charm everyone with his stories and boisterous laugh. The constant rounds of drinks coming from his pocket seemed to help too, but it was nice to see him getting along with your friends. Mostly anyways. 
“You’re such a liar!” Lucy yelled across the table, rolling her eyes. 
“I’m not. Scouts honour.” Harry laughed, squeezing your hip affectionately while taking a swig of his tequila. You leaned into him, practically on top of his lap with how tight he was holding onto you. Not that you minded. You quite liked being positioned in a way that clearly told everyone walking by that you two were dating. That he owned you.
“He’s not lying.” Niall butted in, “the fucker really does have four nipples. Like some genetically modified Greek god.” He bellowed a laugh afterwards, finding it the funniest thing ever. Jed rolled his eyes but you could see him soften as Niall’s arm slung around his shoulder and he whispered something into his ear.
“Technically two are birthmarks,” Harry waved his glass around as he spoke, “but they look like nipples.”
“They do.” You agreed, sipping your drink.
“I can vouch for that too.” Niall raised his beer in a cheers to himself before he clinked it with Jed’s stationary glass on the table and drank a few big gulps. 
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Lucy laughed, taking big gulps of her drink. “Well I’m not asking to see them and you’re not offering so, girls-” she stood abruptly like she suddenly forgot Harry’s nipples were a topic of conversation a moment earlier. She swayed a little and put her hand on Priya’s shoulder for a bit of balance. “I need to pee and I need to dance.” 
“Me too.” Priya stood up as well and held her hand out to you. 
“I’m coming!” You went to stand up but Harry was quick to pull you back down beside him.
“Where are you going?” He nuzzled his nose against your neck, words spoken directly into your ear. “You keep leaving me.” You had to hold back a moan at how good it felt. Being drunk seemed to make your body sensitive to everything he was doing.
“To pee again and dance.” You replied, grabbing his jaw so you could look at him. “You promised me one too, remember?” 
Harry flashed you a drunk smile and nodded, eyes glazed with tequila. “I always keep my promises, darling. Pinky promise.” He declared, holding his pinky out for you to take. It was a childish antic that you adored and reciprocated by wrapping your pinky around his. 
“You’re lying. But I’ll forgive you for it.” You planted a kiss on the slight pout that formed on his lips before you were grabbed out of your spot by Lucy’s strong grip. 
“What do you mean by that?” He asked a second later through furrowed brows. It took a moment for him to process what you said. Your words were followed with such quick movements he nearly got whiplash. But even in his drunken state, he could understand that you were calling him a liar. It was like an ice cold bucket being thrown over his head. He was sent right back to your comment when you had that argument and what Alex said about him lying to you. 
The truth was, you had no idea what he was talking about. The words slipped out like the deepest thoughts of your brain and went in one ear and out the other. You could barely remember the nipple conversation let alone the slip of your tongue.
“What?” You called, not sure if you were misunderstanding the context or what he was actually saying as well.
“Come on, y/n,” Lucy yelled, tugging you behind her. You grabbed your shoulder bag from the booth seat and yelled an ‘I’ll be back’ to your boyfriend then let yourself be dragged through the club to the bathrooms. 
“God he’s obsessed with you!” Priya squealed once you were in the slightly quieter bathroom. Lucy ran into one of the stalls and you were both quick to stand in front of the door and hold the top just in case.
“You think?” You smiled dreamily, leaning against the stall door.
“You think?” Lucy mimicked from inside the stall. “y/n, he’s practically showing you off to every man in the bar. I’ve never seen someone smirk or raise their glass to more strangers than he has.” The door whipped open a moment later, causing both you and Priya to stumble at the loss of balance. “When I went out with ‘plungie’ he tried to start fights over some drunk guy just looking at me. It was so stupid.”
“Yeah, Pete was like that too. Jealous as fuck and not in a hot way.” Priya nodded like her head was going to come off, “Harry is so secure. It’s like he likes when they look at you.”
“Yeah, probably in more ways than one.” Lucy snorted, referencing your dabble or rather, full experimentation with exhibitionism. 
“Shut up.” You gasped, shoving her with a laugh as you fell back against the closed stall door once Priya went inside. “He doesn’t need to be jealous. He knows I’m his.” Your hand went to the little pearls around your neck, fiddling with them so that warm feeling filled your chest.
“Okay but be honest. Seriously honest.” Lucy looked at you through the mirror with a serious expression. “Are you happy? Does he make you happy?” 
You nodded firmly. “Yes. Extremely happy.”
She smiled and fished out her lipstick to reapply, “Good.”
“Does this mean you like him?” You teased, nudging her calf with your sneaker. She rolled her eyes.
“Maybe. Ask me when I’m not drunk with drinks he’s paid for.”
Priya bounced out of her stall a moment later, fluffing her hair. “Hey, does he seriously have four nipples?”
You and Lucy both laughed and you decided to ignore the question to go to the bathroom yourself. Once you three were done and had taken sufficient photos in the mirror, you returned to the dancefloor and found a good little spot near the booths to dance. It was your third toilet trip of the night and you were all definitely feeling the alcohol now that you were up and moving around. 
The three of you bounced around and sang along with the songs you knew, but it wasn’t long before the three men you arrived with stumbled onto the dance floor to join you. You felt Niall’s weight first, his laugh loud as he slung his arms across yours and Priya’s shoulders. 
“You two are marvelous dancers. Like two flamingos.” He slurred, placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek. He went to do the same with Priya before Jed pulled him away and yelled a sorry to the two of you. 
You just laughed and shared a glance with Priya before you felt another set of arms snake around you. This time they were those familiar, strong arms attached to a glorious man who smelt too good and felt too good around you. 
“God baby, you’re so sexy when you dance.” Harry said in your ear, pressing his hands to your lower stomach while pushing his hips into your bum. Dancing in a sweaty club with a man had only felt like this once in your life and it was a feeling you could never get again. 
But with Harry… god just feeling him pressed into your back was turning you on in feral ways. If the bathrooms weren’t so well guarded to prevent exactly what you wanted to do, you had half a mind to pull him into a stall and suck his cock. 
“Apparently I dance like a flamingo. Whatever that means.” You yelled back, tilting your head to look up at him. He had a look of confusion on his face and laughed.  
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it.” You responded, turning around to grab onto his collar. He smirked down at you, preempting the movement way before you tugged his collar down to join your mouths. 
God it was so hot. His hands found your ass shamelessly, giving into his tipsy desires without a single care who was around. Harry had done far worse in public, practically all but fucking someone so a little grinding and making out with the love of his life was the least scandalous thing he could do. Besides, Harry knew that the majority of the people around you two were doing the same thing or too drunk to care. 
“You’re so hot.” You gasped, panting when the kiss broke and his lips found your jaw. His smirk curled against your skin. 
“I fucking love you.” He spoke right in your ear before pulling back to grab your neck to kiss you deeply. You moaned into his mouth, pressing harder against him while curling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. 
His hands were on your ass, your back, your hair. He tugged at it and kneaded your ass, keeping you as close as humanly possible to him. It was exhilarating doing this with so many people around and ignited that part of you that found the exhibitionist area of Pleasing so exciting - the part of you that orgasmed so easily when Harry fingered you on the deck of the boat during your weekend away. 
“I love you.” You panted, kissing him again. He echoed the sentiment as a groan in your mouth before he suddenly turned you around so your back was to your chest. 
“Dance for me.” He rumbled into your ear, using a firm grip on your hips to grind them against him. You were happy to oblige and started swaying your hips along with his. 
You made eye contact with Lucy who was dancing with a stranger, facing you with a big goofy smile. She motioned to the guy behind her and made a thumbs up, flipping it up and down to ask you if he was hot or not. You nodded and flashed a thumbs to her. She puckered her lips in a kiss to you before turning around to welcome the guy’s sloppy drunk kiss. 
“Is that what you used to do?” Harry asked you, tipping his head towards Lucy. 
“Sometimes.” You replied, laughing when his fingers dug with purpose into your hips. “Most of the time it wasn’t good. Drunk boys don’t kiss very well.”
“And what about me?” He asked in your ear, sliding his palm flat over your belly. God having his big fucking hand right over your lower stomach was driving you crazy. 
Your eyes fluttered closed and you turned your head to look back up at him. “Well you’re not a boy.”
“No I’m not.” He smirked, pressing his palm over your neck to kiss you. Your neck angled towards him in that submissive way he loved while you kissed back eagerly. The kiss broke with a laugh when Niall made some joke about you two then you were separated and forced to dance with your friends. But it was barely one song before he was attempting to bring you back. 
“Bring me back my woman.” Harry yelled over the crowd, pulling you back into him. You laughed at his antics, your back bumping against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your chest. He swayed you violently side to side, yelling the words of the song into your ear in an obnoxious way that drunk you found hilarious. 
The dance floor was packed and Harry was happy to take advantage of that and keep you close to him. He had a hand or an arm around you at all times, even when Niall was yelling something in his ear or you were jumping around as a group. 
Harry was so protective of you and was constantly aware of your presence. You could tell he wasn’t as drunk as you, but he was sufficiently tipsy and you couldn’t help but love the boyish humour and antics that came out of him when he was like this. It was the complete opposite of his birthday party. He was genuinely happy and it was one of the best nights through and through. 
“I love you.” He announced, planting two sloppy kisses on your mouth. He had this big goofy smile on his face and he was flushed and slightly sweaty. His once tame hair had become unruly, looking like a freshly sexed college boy. Your lipstick left marks on his cheek and jaw, smudging around his mouth. It looked like you two just had a marathon of a fuck. 
Somehow it was even sexier that he looked like this after you two just having fun and messing around in a busy club. In an instant your hunger and the urge to rip his clothes off hit you like a fucking truck. It was all you could think about. 
You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, kissing him deeply before reaching up on your tippy toes to reach his ear with your mouth. He pressed his hands to your lower back, supporting your tipsy body while you crawled your hands up until your arms were wrapped around his neck and your full body was supported by him. 
“I’m way too drunk but I want you to fuck me so bad, Daddy. Right here. Right now. However you want.” Your voice broke in a tipsy laugh as you leaned back to look at him, settling flat on your feet. 
His eyes darkened while his hand threaded into the hair at the back of your head, fisting it tight enough to make you gasp as his hand pressed your lower back against his body. “You are way too drunk.” He mused, dipping in to kiss you in a dizzying way. “I fucking love you for it.” 
“Does that mean you don’t want me back? That’s rude.” You pouted, mouth parting in another gasp when his fist tightened even harder in your hair and he pressed his lips to your ear. 
“I can’t even say the things I want to do with you out loud.” 
You laughed again, wishing you weren’t as drunk and wishing you could go home with your lover instead of your friends. You never thought you’d get to the point of prioritizing your partner over your friends, but you had never wanted to cling to a person like you did with Harry. You weren’t really used to sharing him with anyone, even friends.  
Harry laughed along with you, letting go of your hair so he could smooth his hands down to your hips to guide you in the way he wanted you to love. Inside though… he was churning with need. He hadn’t heard you call him Daddy for months and you chose now to bring it back again? When you were way too drunk and with too many people. It was like you chose to do that on purpose. 
There wasn’t much he could do to sate his desires for you. Not now anyway. So he focused his attention back on your friends and Niall and Jed. He kept you close to him or in his line of vision the rest of the night. You were significantly more drunk than him so he made sure that he had a hand on you at all times or was able to see you when you went off with your friends for another dance or an extremely long bathroom break. He still didn’t understand why they took so long. But you always came back excited and he loved that look on you. 
It felt like a blur. The minutes felt like seconds and the hours felt like minutes. The only reason you all went home was because the club was closing and even then you two just didn’t want to leave each other. 
“Don’t go. Come home with me.” Harry murmured, pulling you back from the curb towards him when you tried to walk towards the waiting Uber. You had already said goodbye to him, Niall and Jed once, but he was particularly needy when he drank and he didn’t want to let you go yet. 
“I can’t.” You laughed, stroking his chest while pecking the pout on his lips. “The Uber is here and all my stuff is at Lucy’s.”
“I’ll pick it up in the morning. You can sleep in my clothes and I can drop you back to hers for your car. I need you in my bed tonight.” He mused, lips brushing against your ear. 
“I can’t. I want to but I can’t.” You whined, ignoring Priya’s call of your name. Her and Lucy were already in the Uber, waiting for you to climb in after them. 
“You can.” He stressed, whining right back like a child. 
“I’ll come see you tomorrow. Promise.” You compromised, holding out your pink to him. 
Harry smiled and curled his pinky around yours, kissing his fist while you did the same. “Fine.” He sighed dramatically, eliciting a laugh before he shushed you by kissing you deeply. “I love you.”
“Love you. Bye!” You grinned, kissing him again before running to the Uber. “Bye Niall, bye Jed.” They echoed a goodbye in sync before you had to rush out an apology to the driver as you closed the car door behind you. 
You blew Harry a kiss through the window and he caught it and tucked it into his pocket, watching as the Uber pulled from the curb and disappeared down the street. 
//
The next morning you woke up with a splitting headache. It had been a while since you had a hangover. If you didn’t mix different liquors and drunk a lot of water before going to bed you were usually okay, but fuck not this time. 
It was tequila shots after shots and fruity cocktails and just way too much of everything. By the time you managed to separate yourself from Harry and get in the Uber back to Lucy’s it was 4am. You didn’t get to sleep until 5 so when you woke up at 12 the alcohol had barely worn off and your whole body felt violated. 
You spent the next couple of hours hydrating and eating greasy food while debriefing before heading back to your parents where you were spending the night. You couldn’t come all the way down here and not spend time with them. But you needed to see Harry first. Aside from his usual good morning text, he didn’t say anything else. 
There was no teasing about your hangover or any texts about when he was going to see you again. Nothing. He was silent and it worried you. Through the haze that was your night, you couldn’t think of anything that might’ve upset him. 
Maybe he died from the hangover you were expecting him to have. 
“Oh my god. I’m still violently hung over.” You remarked the moment Harry opened his front door to you. He looked remarkably fresh. Even after a shower and lots of good you felt disgusting but he looked as fresh as anything. “And somehow you look fresh as a daisy. I thought old men had a low tolerance of alcohol.”
You expected a jab back. A tease before he stepped aside and pulled you in for a passionate kiss and a squeeze of your ass. But he looked so serious and now your suspicions about something being wrong felt more right than ever. 
“Hi.” He murmured softly, welcoming you in before shutting the door. Then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you deeply. But it was all wrong. It wasn’t cheeky or that classic ‘I missed you’ kiss that makes parting ways worth it. It felt like a goodbye. Like it was the last time he’d ever kiss you again. 
“What’s wrong?” You asked, cutting the kiss short even though it felt like he never wanted to let you go. 
“Nothing. Just missed you, that’s all.” Then the sadness suddenly washed away like it was a figment of your imagination and that bright gorgeous smile of his emerged on his face. He kissed you again and attempted to deepen it but you pulled back. 
“I saw you last night.” You giggled, fisting his t shirt in your hands. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good. Promise.” He smiled softly, kissing you again. “I did miss you though. Real bad.” His smile turned into a smirk and his hands dropped to your hips, squeezing while he subtly turned you around so your back was to the wall. 
“I missed you too. I wish I could’ve stayed last night. It might’ve ruined the romance though I looked like I rolled out of a bin.”
“A bin?” He laughed, dropping his face so he could kiss along your jaw. “You looked incredible when I last saw you.”
“Liar.” You teased, “I looked too drunk and probably messy.”
“Hot messy.” He murmured, ghosting his mouth down your neck. He smirked against your skin when he felt you shiver. God he fucking loved the effect he had on you. The way your body reacted to the lightest most innocent touches. Though they never were innocent, were they? Just a kiss to your neck and you were already melting in his hands. 
“Harry…” you sighed, tipping your head back to rest against the door. He ran his hands along your sides; delicately… carefully. So gently every exposed patch of skin became littered with goosebumps. The air was starting to cool down outside with the seasonal change but Harry’s touch still burned through the light sweatshirt you were wearing.
There was something about being pressed against a flat surface with Harry right there that got you spinning. Anytime he was within intimate proximity your body came alive with need, like it was intune with his. Somehow the anxieties you had about him seemed to slip away through your drunken night of fun and even moreso now when it was your bodies talking and not your mind.
You denied him earlier last week due to your mind but university stress and time apart seemed to reset you. You felt it last night and you felt it now. You just wanted to be consumed by the hypnotic lust and attraction you two had for each other. To forget. 
“You said something last night…” Harry murmured, sliding his palm to your neck to pin you properly against the cool surface of his door. You gasped and felt yourself starting to slide into that role of a submissive partner. A role you found comfort and utter freedom in.
“W-what…” you swallowed thickly, meeting his gaze.
“Told me you wanted me to fuck you…” His hand flexed around your neck while the other started fiddling with the hem of your sweatshirt like a taunt. “That you wanted Daddy to take you however he wanted. Do you remember that?” 
You did remember it. Oh god did you remember it. All you could think about all morning was how fucking sexy Harry was last night. How he moved and guided you, dominated you and protected you. You could remember how turned on you were by it and how desperate you became in hot flashes of pure arousal.
You remember wanting to drag him to the closest bathroom and you definitely remember using his honorific. A name, a plead, a praise, a submission you two hadn’t ventured back to yet. In the weeks after your weekend away your sex was nothing but heaven. Most of the nights you spent together ended between the sheets and you could barely keep your hands off each other.
You spiced things up a little but they were natural habits that weren’t particularly adventurous anymore. Spanking you and calling you a good girl while his hand around your throat wasn’t particularly out of the norm for either of you. But you hadn’t called him Daddy and you hadn’t tried some of the things you did for the first time with Harry again. 
Maybe because it felt like a different time, a different version of yourselves that neither of you really wanted to get back to. There were so many negative emotions and experiences during that period of your relationship that you two were exploring each other in a different way now. A deeper connection where sex felt like a spiritual and physical bond.
It wasn’t that you two didn’t want to get kinkier again. You had spoken about it before and both of you agreed that venturing back into BDSM and similar things was something you absolutely wanted to do. It was just a little hard to do anything too risque at your place because you couldn’t be particularly loud due to the thin walls and you weren’t really in a position to stay at Harry’s. So you had been busy navigating just being together and getting stable in other ways. 
But it was starting to become obvious that the sex that sparked your relationship was also the sex you two needed to thrive. Drunk words were sober thoughts and clearly you were ready for him to wack a riding crop over your ass again and make you sit there all night with a plug inside just to tease you and get you all riled up. 
“Yes…” You whispered, running your tongue over your bottom lip to try and return some moisture from how dry your mouth had gone. All you could think about was his hands roughly touching you everywhere, anywhere in any way just like drunk you proclaimed loudly in the middle of a club. 
His eyes landed on your mouth and when he pressed his hips to yours you could finally feel how hard he was for you. All it took was your sweet, wet tongue running over your lips and he was a fucking goner. Honestly though, one singular look from you could have his cock bricked up and ready to give it to you however you wanted it. 
“Do you still want that?” Harry smirked, words forming slowly on his lips. It was like time was going in slow motion and every single syllable of that question seemed to infiltrate your mind like thick honey. It was a thick haze of arousal and you knew that the answer you gave would kickstart a very long afternoon visit that would require some silly little lie to your parents. 
You nodded quickly in response, arching your neck to try and kiss him. He chuckled lowly, finding your cute desperation so damn adorable. He loved how needy you were and how easy it was to have you begging and desperate for him. His hand remained firm around your neck, keeping you pinned to the door so you couldn’t move until you gave him exactly what he wanted. 
“Words.” 
“Please.”
“Please what?” His brow rose and he tightened the grip around your neck, squeezing the perfect points to make your head all woozy in the best way possible. It was a sure way to get you dripping in your underwear, though you already reached that point the moment he referred to himself as Daddy.
“Please… Daddy.”
“Good girl.”
━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━
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mediumgayitalian · 3 days
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“Oh, come on, there’s just —” Will blows an errant curl from out of his eyes, cheeks red with exertion, balancing nimbly on his feet to put both hands on his hips. “There’s no way, Nico.”
Nico, not blessed with such balance, has to hold all footholds with all limbs, staring warily at the lava wall’s snake holes.
“What? I’m just not as good as you.”
Will flops his right arm outwards, narrowly avoiding smacking it against the rock. “But you are!”
Nico shifts his wary gaze from the snake holes to Will’s rope harness. Is it tight enough? It better be tight enough. Will is putting a lot of faith in it, right now.
“You scaled those cliffs in — in the place —” he trips, still, over the pit, on the odd time he mentions it, and it always makes Nico wince — “like it was nothing! And whenever Percy visits and challenges you you’re suddenly the lava wall expert!” He turns stern blue eyes to face Nico’s head-on. “Not buying it, di Angelo!”
A gush of lava forces him to resume climbing, but there’s an aggression to his movements — a specific, stiff, curated aggression, that Nico has learned means anxiety in people known as William Andrew Solace. That, and coupled with the rapid muttering which, in between the roar of molten stone, Nico believes is a a repetition of “dumbass” “always tryna act a goddamn fool” and “I’m gonna kill him before he sends me into cardiac arrest again”, interspersed with random swears in English, Latin, Ancient Greek, and also — gods — Klingon.
“Will.”
Will ignores him, scampering the last few feet up the wall and slapping the top before relaying down. Nico sighs, following him (albeit significantly slower).
“Will.”
“You’re hiding something from me.” He practically rips the harness off his body — do not think about that do not think about that do not think about that — and shoves it on the hook so hard it damn near snaps off. The look he levels in Nico’s direction practically turns him to stone, it’s so frigid, and he has to resist a shiver. “I can tell.”
It takes a good amount of pushing to make Will all testy like this. Sure, his buttons are easy to push, but most of that is for show. He likes to be dramatic. (Especially because he knows Nico will indulge him, more than anyone else ever has. He relishes in it, Nico thinks; he likes that Nico will watch his productions. An Apollo kid through and through.) He’s not usually one to show his genuine frustration.
But, hoo, boy, when he is frustrated.
Nico has a bad, bad habit of making it worse.
(As if it’s his fault that Will’s hot when he’s mad.)
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico says, forcibly lightly. He sticks his hand out defiantly. “Check me, why don’t you? Not hiding anything.”
He really isn’t. No injuries, no illness, hell, he’s not even tired. Had a full three meals and everything. Even his perpetually achey joints aren’t bad today.
All of this, obviously, is communicated when Will touches him, squinting suspiciously at their joined hands.
“You’re heart rate is high,” he mutters petulantly.
Nico looks at him patiently. “That’s ‘cause my smokeshow boyfriend is holding my hand.”
Grumpy as he’s trying to be, his ears redden. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“Shut up.”
Nico grins, pulling his hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.
“No.”
“Whatever,” Will says, snatching his hand back. His smile spreads widely across his face, now, and he looks away, as pleased as he is exasperated. “You’re still being a weirdo. I should not be so far ahead of you on the wall, Neeks.”
Success — back to nicknames. Crisis averted.
“Have you considered that you’re the camp-wide record holder for a reason, you spider monkey?”
“Still!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nico gets up on his tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the bridge of his freckled nose. “Stop worrying about me, Solace. I’m fine. Burn off some steam, I’ll watch.”
Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll find out, y’hear me? Truth can’t hide from me for long.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He watches as Will suits back up, helping him with his more complicated straps (because Nico was raised to be a gentleman, obviously, why else) and shooing him away when he opens his mouth for more interrogations. He switches to sticking out his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, bounds back over to his first true love — being a big nerdy jock dork.
Nico settles on the grass several feet away from the wall, pretending to clean his sword. After a few minutes, he hears footsteps, and two people sit next to him on either side.
“So,” says Lou Ellen, ignoring Nico’s suspicious look as she tosses a glowing ball of something around, “how come you’re not climbing?”
Nico shrugs. “Only so many times you can climb before it gets boring.”
On his other side, Cecil makes a loud buzzer sound.
“Nope! Wrong answer. Try again.”
Nico is a dignified grownup who refuses to stoop down to Cecil’s level by responding. Instead, he reaches over and pokes him in his ridiculously sensitive ribs, hard, sending him sprawling with a screech.
“Shut up,” he says mildly, as his friend flails. “I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and I can’t do that with all your whining.”
Will has, in the ten minutes since he started, made it halfway up the wall. He seems to have it programmed to the Super Extra Mega Evil Insane mode that the Athena and Ares kids invented just for him, since he smoked all the other levels. He dodges a shot of lava with a laugh, throwing himself to the side and hanging on with three fingers and one scuffed sneaker poised on the tiniest sliver of rock. His attention is broken when Lou Ellen sticks her face right in Nico’s field of vision, tracing Nico’s eyeline with narrowed eyes.
“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “You’re staring at his ass.”
Nico falters, damn near slicing his own fingers off. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says blithely. He gestures without looking at his sword. “I’m busy, see?”
She scoffs. “Real busy. That’s why you almost just did emergency surgery on yourself.”
“Exactly.”
Will pushes up a foot, shifting his hips and launching himself upwards. He makes a little shout of victory, plastering himself to the wall to keep balance, every muscle tensed.
From his place on the floor, Cecil makes an appreciative noise. “He does have a nice ass. Can’t blame you for looking.”
Nico frowns. “Hey. Stop objectifying my boyfriend.” He reaches out and smacks a hand over Cecil’s eyes. “That’s my job.”
“You guys are ridiculous.”
Nico reaches over and puts a hand over her eyes, too, ‘cause there’s no missing where they’re pointed.
“Shut up or I’ll literally put shadows into your retinae and blind you forever,” Nico threatens. (Is this a thing he can do? No. Do his friends know this? Also no.)
“You’re a dictator!” Cecil protests.
“Depriving us of basic human rights!” Lou Ellen agrees.
Nico shrugs. He glances back up the the climbing wall, where he has a very perfect view — and a great reason to never even try to climb faster than Will does. He grins.
“Too bad for you guys.”
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eggcats · 3 days
Text
the quickest way to disable the voxtech drone cameras isn't to actually do anything to them, its for alastor to look directly into them and (make his distortion not too bad) and then wink and blow a kiss at it
vox overloads himself and knocks out all the cameras he's currently connected to every time
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imaginesmai · 3 days
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Hewn City, where nightmares come true
Maybe this is a bit long and excesive? Maybe, but we love good angst, hurt and comfort. Thank you @marscardigan for your request! Feel free to send anything else. This is places inside the baker!reader universe, but it's independent. You can find other parts here.
Plot: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.
Warnings: males being a lil creepy with their comments, Keir, violence.
“Az” you sighed for the third time that afternoon, staring at your stubborn mate. “It’s no big deal. Feyre has done it, Nesta has done it. Why can’t I?”
“They have done it because they have powers. They…” his words died when you raised a brow and dared him to tell you that they could and were different. More capable. “It’s not even about them, don’t change the topic. It’s about us. I don’t want you to do it”
“So, it’s fine when you leave for weeks to the mountains with a target on your back but I can’t accept one dance where you and your brothers will be watching?” you asked, and he finally looked away.
Azriel and you had been arguing about the same topic for two days in a row. Since Rhysand, who you had become fond of in the last years, asked you for a favor. He had been hoping you would come with them to Hewn City and dance with some males while they snooped around. You didn’t even have to carry weapons with you, since you would be introduced as part of their family.
It wasn’t dangerous or risky. It was a favor from your friend because Hew City didn’t know you. An unfamiliar face they would be too preoccupied studying to notice Feyre, Nesta and Mor sneaking into their studies. They would play the hard part. You just had to dance.
And Azriel was having a tantrum about it.
“The fact that you can’t even answer that question is enough. I’m going. And you can’t decide what I do and don’t”
“I can talk Rhysand out of it” he tried, not looking at you.
“Oh, like you haven’t tried that already”
You decided the conversation was finished and turned around to finish decorating the trail of cookies. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his usual place to watch you work in silent adoration. The storm in his eyes died down a little at the familiarity of your movements, at the comfort of the bakery.
Yes, he was mad. Mad at Rhysand because he hadn’t asked him first, mad at himself for considering he was your owner and needed to be asked for permission for you to do something. Mad at you because you couldn’t see how tight his heart became at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, dancing in a room full of vipers.
Half of the citizens of that rotten place had been tortured by Azriel at some point, and the other half had been gently tortured. He trusted Rhysand’s glamour to hide your bonded scent, but his rebel heart seemed to think otherwise.
For a while, he watched you work in silence, hands working your own particular magic with common ingredients. The fire eventually left his soul and he felt guilty enough to leave his spot. When you set the last trail in the oven, he took advantage of the vulnerable position and wrapped himself around you.
His wings created a small cocoon for the two of you, light barely seeping through the thick membrane.
“I’m sorry for being an overbearing mate” he apologized against your earlobe, letting his warm breath make you squirm. “You’re amazing and brave and you can handle everything you want, but I worry because I love you”
“And I’m also too smart and beautiful for your own good” you scoffed when one of his hands sneaked beneath your apron. “We’re gonna burn those cookies”
“Won’t the only thing burning for you tonight”
You bursted in a loud laugh and the rest of his anger faded away, giving up space for the usual love and adoration for you. In his arms, he could hear your heartbeat, smell the faint remains of vanilla from the previous muffins and your shampoo.
Azriel pushed you farther into his arms, and you didn’t complain. One of his arms was settled on your waist, under your apron but with no further intentions. The other one crossed your chest, and you gripped his forearm between your hands.
He was all hard muscles and soft skin. Even under his usual leathers, you could feel the familiar outlines of his arm. You looked up from his chest and saved the height different when you locked your eyes with him. From upside down, he was just as beautiful as ever.
His lips curved into an apologetic smile, although you were certain it wouldn’t be the last time you heard from it. Azriel was just a little less stubborn than you.
“I forgive you on one condition. You don’t bring it up to Rhys anymore. He already feels bad about it, you don’t have to remind him” you gently reprimanded him. “If he could, he would have searched for other solution. And I’m happy to help”
“You’re happy here, but down there it’s horrifying. And Rhysand and Hewn City can fuck – “
“Besides, I like doing things with you. From your other life”
Azriel’s life as the shadowsinger, as the spymaster, was still a bit hidden to you. You had gotten him to open up little by little, and he had shared some details that had you almost regretting your decision. But it was true that, besides doing Rhysand a favor, you wanted to do it with Azriel. Watch him work and be that tough male everyone feared.
That point made him roll his eyes and drop the matter with a brief kiss to your nose. He captured it between his teeth and playfully bit you, which earned him a swift elbow to his groin. Azriel teared apart just in time for the next customer to arrive.
With a sharp look that promised worst thing than an elbow, you left him in charge of the cookies and went to the front door.
-
Azriel hadn’t been allowed to see you before he big night. He had tried, but had received an arguable reason – that he would leave his smell all over you. As if he was a teen with hormone problems that couldn’t control himself. He was still fuming about it as he waited in silence by the throne, still pouting but intimidating.
His shadows were scattered all over the room, and he was purposefully ignoring Cassian’s warning glances. The last thing he could do to show his discomfort was terrorize a little their guests.
Rhysand had been introducing you in the dinner hall, where he hadn’t been allowed in. For centuries, the rules had kept Illyrian out of the finest and most elegant parts of the city, and it was one of the few rules he liked. He avoided pointless and tedious conversations waiting in the throne room.
“I bet Rhys he would wear line for a week you won’t last more than five dances” Cassian muttered under his breath, not looking away from the early guests. “Mor placed it at two”
“Glad my discomfort brings you joy, Cassian” he replied. “I plan to endure the whole night, if only for your troubles. What did Rhys bet?”
“Sex ban for a week”
Azriel rolled his eyes and finished the conversation. He was in for a long night, and he would try to endure it for you. Because you had looked so excited to be part of the plot, so bright and happy, he would never smudge that out.
The remains of your smile warmed his heart, and he relaxed a bit. You had been sitting right by his side as Rhysand went over the last details the previous night, listening to him like a hawk. Where you needed to dance, opposite from the entrance. Who you needed to charm or avoid, what you needed to act like.
He hated all of that, but he couldn’t deny that it made you happy. And whatever made you happy was worthy. The part he couldn’t stand was his absence during the grand dinner, during your introduction. It would raise many suspicions since Azriel never accompanied Rhysand there, therefore he had to wait at his usual spot.
Rotten on the spot with unusual nerves and doubts, he listened with trepidation the incoming steps.
“Don’t make me lose the bet. You don’t want to see me in a sex ban. Or Nesta” his brother announced quickly before the big doors opened.
“Shut up” Azriel hissed.
“A fair warning”
Rhysand walked in with cold indifference, Feyre walking by his side like the queen she was. His high-lord deemed worth the risk shoot him a warning glance, and Azriel thanked him, because it half-prepared him.
You walked right behind them, talking softly with Mor, and you were stunning. Beautiful. Bright. Radiant beyond the stars.
Azriel found the simplicity of your bakery uniform charming and perfect. The constant stains on your clothes, the sunny dresses you wore for your dates. Even training clothes made him stare longingly.
The dress you were wearing was long and dark, hugging all your curves and letting your left leg at plain sight. The cleavage lowered down to your waist, so low he could see the burnt scar you had gotten when you started your bakery. It showed your shoulders, your arms covered by a transparent, thin sheet of stars and bright dots. Azriel was glad he got a moment to digest the sight before seeing your exposed back.
You were so beautiful he stopped breathing, that he lowered his guard for the first time in that place. Someone could have tried to assassinate him from the front and he wouldn’t have seen them coming. Not when you were looking like a dream come true.
Rhysand was by his side before he could tear his eyes away from you, Feyre on his right.
“You may dance and drink and do whatever you like tonight” Rhysand motioned with a vague hand around. “But kneel first at your majesties”
“Lower” Cassian roared when only their heads lowered.
They all fell to their knees, as you and Mor watched by the side. While all their eyes were fixed on the ground, you looked at Azriel for the first time. He tugged frantically on the bond, proving Cassian wrong and behaving exactly like a hormonal teenager. You pulled back with a small smile – so small, so hesitant, that Azriel frowned.
It was different from the radiant one you had gifted him so many times during the last days.
He didn’t have to bother looking at Rhysand to have him speaking mind to mind.
“It’s her first time, she’s just nervous” his voice broke through the mental barriers, wary and full of concern. Azriel forced himself to look away from you, for your safety and his.
“What happened?”
“Nothing”
Rhysand knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe his answer, so he was met with flash of images of the previous dinner. How you had been introduced under predatory eyes, how your smile had died down a bit at the darkness and the coldness in their stares. Azriel’s whole body became alert as he watched through Rhysand’s eyes the dinner, no one daring to come close to you.
It would be different now, he knew, so he steeled his nerves as the first fae rose his head. 
They rose up one by one, and when Rhysand just kept mumbling something in Feyre’s ears, they deemed safe to start moving. Music started playing and males started looking for the company of women. Azriel’s neck vein pulsed painfully when a lesser fae walked up to you and Mor, asking for your hand.
From up there, he could smell your hesitance. You would follow the plan, as Mor stepped out with a small vow, Nesta nowhere in side. Feyre would leave shortly too, and you would only have to stay there until they came back. But Azriel had to remind himself to breath when you were taken to the dance floor by another male.
He had to give it to the first one – he was respectful enough to keep his hands your waist and not lower them. Azriel felt his power roaring inside him the whole time, and he couldn’t help but stain his ears to listen to the conversation.
Through the dances you granted, he did that, ignoring the rest of the world and looking without seeing through the room.
You’re beautiful, how is it we haven’t seen you around earlier?
I have a son, he has lands and power. Would you like to know him?
I was hoping to catch you all night. What is such a sweet flower like you doing here?
You smell nice, unbonded
Rumors say you are an unmarried female. Such a pity
The comments grew more unfortunate the longer the night went. Rhysand power was gently holding him in place, reminding him the importance of giving the girls time. The High lord was looking too much at you, for his sake, so they wouldn’t notice Azriel acting like a boiling bull next to him.
And that started to draw unwanted attention, the notice of his High Lord staring at a woman. You were nothing like the female that had walked hours ago into the ballroom. Once you had seen what Hewn City was, what your mate had to work with, you were withering away – and Azriel noticed.
Azriel was seeing every drop of your smile, every muscle you tensed. Blood dripped to the ground behind him from how hard he was clenching his fists. His shadows curled in the edges of the room impatient, ready to attack. He broke every bet they had and then the last male walked up to you.
“May I have this dance?” Keir asked as you were dropped by your last companion. “You are hard to catch, my dear”
You brushed off the last feeling of discomfort from hands on you, all night, and tried to think quick. He had been one of the few males Rhysand had warned you to stay away from, but he had scared off any other options. And your friends weren’t back yet.
“I was hoping for a break” you tried to seem confident. “Sit this one out”
“Pretty things like you shouldn’t be sitting”
You bit your inner cheek, regretting the help you had offered. You had been regretting since you had stepped in the hall, and you had met Azriel’s eyes. The way they shone with worry and concern, the desperate tug on the bond. He had warned you and you felt foolish, because you thought you could handle it.
There were reasons in fate why you worked in a quiet bakery and he spent his life in dungeons.
“Shouldn’t have dance with every male in this room if you’re gonna get scared now” he chuckled, all void and dark. It made the hairs of your arms raise. “I won’t bite. Not too hard”
Apparently out of options, you accepted his hand and kept a straight face when he pulled you closer. If you were honest, you were too close to crying. Your feet hurt, your heart was pounding way too loudly against your chest and you had been touched way too many times. Every inch of your body felt dirty and wrong, and Keir certainly had big hands.
You had avoided Azriel’s eyes all night. You knew Rhysand was looking out for you, maybe to draw attention away from your mate. But that had made more males, the worst type it seemed, to become interested in you.
Keir was the last of a long list you had endured so far. He shamelessly inhaled when he pulled you closer, his nose brushing the space between your shoulder and neck. You convinced yourself it was his nose, not his lips, that traced your pulse point.
“You smell divine. So sweet” he commented, keeping you close to his body. “Have you been taken yet, dear? Has a male unfiled you?”
“That’s not a question I want to answer” you complained. You weren’t sounding confident at all, not with his hand pressing against your waist. It sounded more like another question itself.
“Oh, how I will like to see this city defile you. A little, sweet thing. Didn’t your mother warn you about wolves and rabbits?”
You kept quiet at his words, looking down at your moving feet. That way, he couldn’t see the way your expression broke. You noticed your lip quivering, your body trying to become smaller in his grasp. Just a dance, you reminded yourself. The heat of Azriel’s eyes was still present on your back, Rhysand glamour tight around you.
Keir’s shoes became blurry when your vision filled with tears. So desperately, you wanted to be home, with Azriel. You wanted Rhysand to never need you again, to have Keir moved to another continent along with the rest of that doomed city.
“I wonder if you’ll be as quiet in bed. How much will your father make me pay for you? Maybe we can arrange things for this week” Keir suddenly gripped the edge of your chin and made you look up, with a serious look on his cruel face. “Are you fertile, dear?”
The way he was speaking about you, his fingers gripping your face, was enough to make the first tear roll down. The male actually looked surprised at the sight, but once it had fallen, you couldn’t control yourself.
It could have been like that, you realized, if you hadn’t found Velaris. If Az wasn’t your mate, instead a male like Keir or someone worse. Your eyes searched desperately for him, without need to ask for help.
Azriel had reminded you many times that only one look and he would be right beside you, court matters dammed. He had made you say it out loud multiple times, had gotten you a small bargain tattoo on the back of your ankle. His eyes were already dark and troubled when you met them, his body ready.
He winnowed between shadows before anyone noticed, and then those same shadows were besides you. Keir’s fingers were ripped from you with a sickening crack, and you only saw Azriel’s fighting leathers. His rough hands tucking your face farther into his body, his shadows crawling up to your knees and calves.
They were cool against your sweaty skin, Azriel a calming and safe presence. Your face scrunched in a silent cry as you let your pent-up emotions consume you. You hugged him tight, not looking at the source of the screams.
“Scum” Azriel scoffed at the male in the ground, shooting Rhysand a warning glance.
“This is over. Forever”
“Azriel. They will know”
“Fuck you”
Rhysand could only witness in tense silence as Keir’s body tried to fight off Azriel’s shadows. Always so gentle around your body, they wrecked the male on the ground. They burnt his arms and snapped his fingers, squeezed his throat until his eyes budged. Azriel watched with murderous indifference as he held you trembling.
That was what he had wanted to tell you, to warn you about. You were capable of everything, you were brave and amazing. But that city was filled with trash and they could suck the life out of anyone.
“I want to go home” you whispered against his chest, your knees trembling.
“You have always been stupid, Keir, but you can always surprise me” Azriel growled, so primitive and feral that the room fell quiet. “Let’s see if you can quiet your screams tomorrow”
Feyre running out of one of the many doors was the last thing Azriel saw before winnowing you both away from Hewn City. He let his shadows hide you, but used his wings for good measure of protection.
In a few seconds, you were back in your apartment in Velaris, above your bakery, the sweet scent of summer nights filling the space. It no longer smelt like death and expensive perfume, like rotten flesh and arrogance. Azriel didn’t let you go as you squeezed his middle with a surprising force.
He knew what you needed without explanation. Carefully, he unlaced the dress on your back, his hands brushing any inch of skin those males had touched. Each trembling sigh, each tear he smelt on you, made him physically hurt to go back and kill them all. Pull at their limbs and hang them from their insides.
Rhysand would be hearing for him for a while, everyone in his family would. He squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to your whimpers, that stabbed into his heart like sharped knives. Azriel ripped the sleeves off your dress and could have burned it with the sheer force of his hate.
When you were finally standing with just your underwear, he allowed himself a moment of reassuring. Since the moment he had met your eyes, he was done for. The destiny of the world could have been in risk that he would have had still acted.
His hands were shaking too when he pulled your face away from his chest, cupping your cheeks. They were wet with tears, Keir’s fingers marked on your chin. He watched those beautiful eyes, that had shone at the idea of working with him, carry the burden of that night.
“I’m sorry” you whispered brokenly, your breath speeding up again. “I’m sorry I messed it up”
“You did perfect, darling. You did so good. So good” he assured you with passion, bringing your face closer to him until you couldn’t avoid his burning gaze. “They got out and you did perfect, but you won’t have to do it never again. I promise, Y/N, never”
You cried in his hands, and Azriel broke at the sight. What type of mate allowed their partner to go through that? To have strangers’ hands on them for hours? He hated himself a little bit more for that, but tried to hide it as he kissed your forehead.
He tangled his fingers between your locks as his lips lowered down your face. To your closed eyelids and wrinkles. Azriel kissed every tear, your nose, the edges of your pointed ears. He let his lips linger at the bruises on your chin, and found comfort at having Keir paying for them next morning.
Azriel ended up picking you between his arms, and carrying you to your room. It still held the remains of your excitement – scattered clothes close to the wardrobe, make-up products opened and half-used. He pointedly ignored them as he carefully dropped you in bed. Your arms didn’t unhook from his shoulders, and he didn’t complain.
“I hate them so much” he admitted in a whisper, close to your ear. “I hate them”
He had hated them since he was a child, had wanted to keep them away from you. He considered if moving to another continent with you was far enough, or if he would be forced eventually to kill them for breathing the same air. Those decisions would have to wait until the next morning.
Still on his leather clothes, Azriel let you lay on his chest and draped the sheet over your bodies. He ignored Rhysand’s talons against his mental shields, only hug you closer. He listened to every shaky breath of yours, caressed away with his thumb the last tears you shared.
“I’m sorry I doubted you” you said eventually, almost when Azriel thought you were asleep. Raising your head from his chest, you met his eyes. “You were right. I’m sorry”
“I wish I had been wrong. I… sometimes I wish it was different. That I worked in the Archives or owned a coffeeshop” Azriel talked just as quietly. “Then I could have you with me always. I hate my job, but I love my court. I love Velaris and I want it to be a safe place, so I gotta endure those things”
“I wish that was different too”
It was foolish to wish on things that couldn’t happen. Azriel would die before letting you close to that part of his life again. He wasn’t done by far with Hewn City or his own brothers, but that night he only held your naked body close. Every now and then, he would recall a certain moment of the night and remember the exact point a stranger’s hand had touched – Azriel would caress that same spot, feeling you hug him tighter.
Neither of you slept that night, and you didn’t open the bakery the next day. It took Azriel two days to be able to leave your presence without feeling the need to rip Rhysand’s head off his shoulder, five baths to erase the memories of those hands. Keir rotted in a cell, accompanied only by Azriel’s shadows, in the meantime.
Three days later, when Azriel came back to Hewn City after leaving you in the bakery, Keir couldn’t keep quiet.
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i4butcher · 3 days
Note
Just finished it and i loved it so much! could i request a part 2 to Dream Of Me..?
Dream Come True
Sam Winchester x F!Reader
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IT'S HERE!!!!! okay, so many of you asked for a p.2 and it's here, finally. Thank you to everyone who left comments under Dream Of Me and now you have the second part. By the way, I think this shows my slight (huge) obsession with Sam's muscles and my lack of knowledge in blowjobs
Read "Dream Of Me" here
Summary: Sam's avoiding you, he's weird ever since he woke up and you had to question him about it sometime.
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected piv (which is fake and i do not encourage), oral (m. and f. recieving), nipple sucking, fingering (sort of), marking, angsty??? maybe, kissing, cursing, use of y/n, dean is done with these two, english is not my first language, NOT PROOF READ, ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE
WC: 11.6K (shhh, don't talk about it)
You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here
enjoy!
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As soon as Sam arrived in the library and saw you standing there in those jeans that did wonders for your legs he immediately felt the room grow hotter. He felt like a high school boy who had just hit puberty with the way he was feeling today or as if it was the first time he dreamed with a woman in his bed – or other places for that matter. He did have feelings for you for some time, but everytime he thought about you, he thought about the sweetness of your smile or the way your laugh sounded when you were slightly drunk. Not about how loud he could make you scream his name.
Sam wasn’t innocent, and neither were you. He knew that you weren’t – he had heard, when the motel walls were too thin, the bed hitting against it and some curses of pleasure out of your mouth. And you most definitely knew he wasn’t, telling you and Dean the history he had with Ruby in excruciating detail even made you feel tingly inside.
Sam tried, badly, to be nonchalant about it around you but it was so difficult. Your plump lips moving as you explained the case, sometimes your tongue darting out to wet it, were driving him insane. He paid much more attention to the way you spoke to him with your hand on his shoulder during the drive to the case, your breath lightly hitting his face and reminding him of the hot kiss you shared in his head, your hand practically burning on his skin through his flannel. And when you finally found a motel to crash in for the time you stayed there, you started loading the gun barrels inside the boys room while Sam attempted to research and Dean was reading lore books on the small table the room had. The way you worked your fingers with your gun was so erotic without you even wanting it to be. Sam was on the verge of breaking as he stared at you, who was oblivious to his looks.
But one person that wasn’t oblivious was Dean Winchester. When he looked up from his book to Sam, ready to ask him a question, he almost immediately closed his mouth when he noticed Sam was doing anything but research. He looked at the way his brother was sitting, with an elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand, torso slightly turned in your direction, eyes trained on your hands. Dean then looked at you and was shocked that you hadn’t even acknowledged Sam’s stare. He smirked to himself as he shook his head in disbelief.
Of course Dean knew about Sam’s feelings. He got him to admit to his crush on you one night where the brothers were in a bar alone and you were in a hunt by yourself. Sam had just hung up his phone after talking to you, his slightly slurred words made you chuckle in the other end of the line and, when Sam put his phone down on the table, he wrapped one hand in his beer and sighed dreamily, staring mindlessly at his thumb that brushed the bottle left to right.
“Her laugh is so beautiful, it matches her” He murmured and Dean almost choked on his own beer, eyes widening at his brother, eyebrows furrowed. As if Sam had realized he actually said it out loud and not just thought, he looked over at Dean, face to face with his brother’s amused look. Sam just sighed disappointedly, knowing that there was no way he was escaping this, not even giving the ‘I’m just drunk!’ excuse. So, he just accepted it “Don’t tell her…”
As if all dots connected, Dean leaned back on his chair, a grin on his face as he thought about the interactions you and Sam had with each other and how it was actually quite obvious. “You like her?” Dean asked the obvious and Sam just nodded. After that, as the amazing older brother he is, Dean promised he wouldn’t utter a word to you about this and he was keeping his promise up to this day, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease the youngest about it…
“Hey Sam, have you found anything?” Dean spoke up and that seemed to wake Sam up from his trance. He cleared his throat and desperately tried to make it seem like he was concentrated fully on his assigned task.
“Um, y-yeah, all the victims died of blood loss and.. and there are bite marks…” Sam said, making you look up at him too, throwing your hair back with a movement of your head. Your hands had stopped working on the guns and you got up from the bed you were sitting, leaving the weapon behind. You walked until you were behind Sam and, using his body for support, putting your left hand over his right shoulder, you leaned in to look at the screen, confirming the information yourself.
Sam stiffened up the moment you got closer to him. With the way you were leaning in – your hand on him again – made him take a deep breath to stay put. He had his eyes glued on the laptop screen because he feared that if he glanced at you in any way he wouldn’t be able to control his most primal needs – A.K.A. avoid his sinful thoughts to take over and a boner to rise. He could feel your warmth behind him and, as you nodded and walked away, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions in his head, he finally felt like he could breathe.
“It’s clearly vampires. Thank God we didn’t have to turn libraries upside down to figure this one out” You said with a slight smile to Dean, your arms crossed in front of you. He closed his book with a thud, thankful for not having to do much more. You turned back to Sam who, at this point, had also closed his laptop and seemed lost in thought.
To get your suit in your bag – that you left over the other bed –, you had to go past Sam and, as you did, you brushed a hand over his arm and got closer to his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. You lowered your voice a little, for Dean not to hear what you were about to say, a worried frown in your face.
“Hey, are you doing okay? You seem off” You ask, slightly tilting your head, your eyes searching into his for any kind of discomfort, be it emotional or physical.
Alarms went off inside Sam’s head and, as soon as he could gather his thoughts together, he suddenly stood up, making you pull away from him and widen your eyes, startled. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and he swallowed deeply, trying to moist his dry throat.
“I’m fine” He mumbles before going to the bathroom, brushing past you in a hurry, his arm bumping against your shoulder. You stare at the shut door once he locks himself inside, mouth agape and an offended look on your face. You turn to face Dean again, questioning him with a look. Dean shrugs his shoulders and gets up from his chair.
At this point you felt kind of…hurt. You had done nothing to Sam, not that you were aware of, and your face dropped. Dean felt the need to guarantee you that it was probably nothing but even he was confused. Sam tended to long to be beside you, to touch you, or have any excuse for you to touch him. He swallowed his jealousy when you had asked Dean once to take his shirt off to care for his wounds. That day, as you stitched the gash on his brother's abdomen, Sam stared daggers at Dean, who felt the need to reassure him that you were all Sam’s, that Dean saw you as a little sister and nothing else. 
This kind of avoidance towards you was weird to the point even you felt affected by it. You weren’t one to take things to the heart – you’re a hunter for fucks sake – but when it came to the boys, especially Sam, you felt worse than ever. They were often harsh, either with each other or with other people. Of course they had to be tough and mean when it came to it due to their line of work but, behind closed doors, they were the sweetest people you’ve ever met, always caring for you and one another and often sacrificing their own comfort – and sometimes their lives – so other people can sleep without worrying about what’s lurking in the night.
Still, it hurt when you became a victim of their temper and Sam being the one shutting you out this time was not only unexplainable but also like a punch to the gut. Let's say the tall, muscular and smart guy Sam Winchester was had you falling for him quickly – and, soon, harder – than you expected. He always tried to be as sweet as he could be and as understandable. He had a natural instinct to comfort the victims you guys often talked to, always the one to do the talking. You had noticed the way he approached the subject with care, especially if the victim was related to the interviewed in any way, and had taken that as a mental note. Hey, he’s good with words. 
But, Sam could also be firm and assertive when it came to it. Once, while you and him were interrogating a guy who wasn’t cooperating at all with you, even when you both were disguised as FBI, Sam snapped. His big hand came with full force against the table, his palm facing down and a loud bang echoing through the small room. It startled you to the point where you jumped slightly, eyes wide as you looked at your ‘partner’. Sam was fuming. His nostrils were flared and his eyebrows were low, casting a shadow over his eyes. He slowly leaned in closer to the guy's face, a wicked grin emerging on his face.
“Look…” He started, voice low, raspy. He gently pulled his suit aside, secretly showing the man his shiny, silver gun safely resting against his hip. You watched as the dude swallowed harshly and his eyes stared at the weapon. “If you won’t cooperate with us…” Sam straightened up, holding both his hands behind his back as he started to walk until he stood beside the guy. He leaned towards his ear, the guy completely frozen. “We are going to rip the truth out of you” He whispered.
You had struggled to keep your composure. The way Sam showed his power over the man – who ended up telling both of you his side of the story after the threat – was distracting. It was safe to say you had discovered something about yourself that day. You had sat the whole ride back to the motel with your legs crossed to numb the throbbing between your thighs as you imagined Sam talking to you that way, in different settings. A cold shower was barely enough to calm you down.
The mix of all these things and other little stuff about the younger brother is what made him special to you. And, now, he was avoiding you.
You sighed and walked back to the bed, sitting beside the guns you’ve left scattered over it, facing Dean’s direction. You leaned on your knees with your elbows, holding your head with your hands, squishing your cheeks and making your pout more prominent than intended. Dean looked at you with pity.
“Did I do something? Say something?” You ask Dean, looking up at him. Dean shakes his head and sighs, getting up from the chair and walking to the mini bar. You knew exactly what he was reaching for and you stretched a hand out to grab the beer bottle once he handed it to you. You opened it easily with your hand and took three big gulps of it. Dean opened his as he sat down beside you this time, on the bed, and threw the lid over the bedside table, the material clinking against the wood.
“Nah, you didn’t do anything, he’s just in a mood” He said but it didn’t seem to help, your face still sad and your head far away, filled with the wrong thoughts. He sighed and gave you a side hug, your head laying against his shoulder. Dean rubbed his hand up and down your upper arm mindlessly to comfort you. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, you did nothing wrong, he’s just…being Sam, I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, okay? I’ll make sure to kick his ass later” He smiled.
You smiled slightly at the last part, shaking your head at the older Winchester, the typical brotherly teasing something you grew fond of.
Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, Sam was trying to keep it together. He had never felt this way before and it was driving him crazy trying to stay away from you because, at the same time he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if anything he did or said showed his attraction – physical and emotional – towards you, he was dreading this. He longed for your closeness, for your touch, not necessarily in a sexual way, much like the one of concern you had just given him. But right now everything became sexual to him, just your hand over his arms was enough to drive goosebumps over his spine.
He washed his face with the cold water from the sink, brushing his wet hand through his hair. He breathed deeply and dried his face, ready to leave the bathroom and go back to acting as if he didn’t want to kick Dean out of the room and have you right here, right now.
Once he opened the door, he regretted it almost immediately. When he saw Dean so close he clenched his hand against the door handle, swallowing his jealousy. You weren’t his, he reminded himself, he didn’t have the right to be jealous of someone that wasn’t his. But, oh, he was. It was uncontrollable, but undeniable.
He watched Dean’s hand rub up and down your arm, your head laid over his shoulder so comfortably. He bit the inside of his cheek as he approached the both of you to place his laptop back into its case. You had noticed his presence, lifting off of Dean and looking at his side profile. He won’t even look at me. You glanced at Dean, who had also realized his brother’s behavior, and gave him a disappointed look.
You sighed through your nose and grabbed your gun to put in the waistband of your jeans. You also took your bag that you always had with you on hunts, separate from the one with your personal items, and threw it over your shoulder. Dean just stared as you got ready to leave, not stopping you. He needed some alone time with Sam to ask him what the fuck was going on.
“I’m going to the car, we can leave once you’re both ready” You said. Dean acknowledged it with an ‘Okay’ and Sam just hummed. You opened the door and left, angrily walking towards Baby.
As soon as the door closed behind you Dean got up from the bed and aggressively spun Sam around, grabbing at his shoulder.
“Hey–!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean interrupted, and an angry scowl on his face. He whisper-yelled, still worried that you might hear them. Sam gave him a confused look and Dean rolled his eyes at the stupidity of his brother. “Why are you acting like this with her?”
“Acting like what?” Sam bit back, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Stop pretending like you don’t know Sammy! Why are you ignoring Y/N all of a sudden? Weren’t you the one all” Dean raised his hands, doing quotation marks with both his index and middle fingers “‘head over heels’ for her, hm?”
Now it was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. He crossed his arms in front of him, slightly looking down at his brother due to the height difference. “It’s nothing” He mumbled, looking away. Images of you roamed around his head at Dean’s question and it reminded him why he was doing this in the first place. He was avoiding you for your own good, you and your friendship with him.
“It’s not nothing, damn it, the girl thinks she did something. Did she? Because you sure make it look like you are angry with her” Dean kept poking at the subject, getting on Sam’s nerves. His face softened once his brother told him you felt bad. “What happened?” Dean asked again, this time a little more softly after he noticed Sam’s face drop at his words.
Sam sighed and looked around the room, nervous. He didn’t know if he should actually tell Dean about this – he’d definitely make fun of him endlessly. But still, he didn’t know if making you sad was worth it. He ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was under pressure and mumbled “I had a dream”
“What?” Dean asked, not understanding whatever language his brother just spoke.
“A dream”
“Dream? What do you mean?”
“I had a dream…with Y/N”
“What do you mean a dream with–” Realization suddenly hits Dean “...Oh” and he relaxes his eyebrows, like he just made sense of everything that happened that day. Then he smirks. Smirks and starts to laugh his ass off as Sam just stands there, cheeks flushed, waiting for his brother to calm down. He knew it.
Sam started to smile slightly as his brother kept trying to talk over his laughter, his embarrassment almost gone. Once Dean finally took a few breaths, a hand on his chest as he dried his fake tears and his laughter died down with a sigh. He looked at Sam who stood there absolutely flushed.
“Man, that’s why you were taking longer in the shower than usual” Dean said with a fake disgust in his face. “Remember me to wash that bathroom twice before using”
“Shut up” Sam mumbled and looked away, suddenly deep in thought. Dean stopped joking and crossed his arms, giving Sam a silent questioning look. Sam glanced at his brother. “What?”
“This kind of still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you avoiding her?” Dean asked and Sam looked at him like he had three heads. “Shouldn’t this make you, and I can’t believe I’m saying this but, excited to be around her”
“Dean, come on, I don’t want her to think I’m a pervert and, besides, she doesn’t even like me that way” And when Sam said that, Dean’s eyeballs almost popped out of his head, his eyes widening at his brother. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, asking the Lord above – better yet, Chuck – to give him the strength to deal with Sam’s stupidity.
“Do you not see it?” He asks. Sam makes a face.
“See what?”
“Oh my God, are you blind Sammy? Or just severely oblivious?” Dean inquiries. “She’s so obviously into you it hurts to watch”
“Dean, please–”
“Don’t ‘please’ me! It’s so clear! She’s always near you when she has the chance, she always insists on helping you when you get hurt on hunts, she looks at you like you’re the last man on Earth, she always worries so much about you…”
“She does the same with you and…” Sam bit the inside of his cheek “...you guys seemed pretty cozy when I came out of the bathroom”
Dean almost hit Sam right then and there, or took one of the guns and shot him through his leg – as a warning. How could he even…?
“Are you fucking serious? That girl is like a sister to me. And why would I even flirt with her when I know you’re into the chick? I’m bad but not that bad, I ain’t stealing your girl” Dean reasures Sam.
His girl. Dean said. But you weren’t his. Sam sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, a million thoughts running through his head. He walked close to the bed and sat down, his and his brother’s guns slightly bouncing over the mattress with the added weight. He held his head in his hands, his hair falling beside his face, his elbows propped over his knees.
“What am I supposed to do?” Sam asks, helpless. Dean shakes his head.
“Talk to her, it’s as simple as that” Dean responded as if it truly was that easy. Sam thought about it. You weren’t gonna hate him for liking you and, maybe, Dean was right and you liked him too. It was a 50/50 chance between rejection and love. He weighed his options and decided in his mind.
Sam suddenly got up, startling Dean. He grabbed his gun and bag, walking around with a determined gaze. Dean accompanied his movements with his eyes, wanting to question the youngest about what conclusion he had gotten to but he was soon with a hand on the door handle and he looked back at his older brother, smiling.
“Let’s go, we have things to kill”
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It was safe to say that seeing you in a suit didn’t help Sam’s mind as it roamed back to those thoughts. As said before, you looked good in absolutely anything, but boy could you absolutely tear a man apart with the way you looked. You styled your hair in a more professional way using Baby’s rear view mirror and it looked amazing, your strands glowing in the faint daylight the day had left.
You were both standing close enough so that Sam was able to smell your perfume and the scent of your hair products. It became harder to concentrate on whoever you were interviewing, his eyes wandering to stare at the back of your head, wanting to see inside your brain for any message that said ‘Hey Sam, I’m into you too!’
Dean had gone elsewhere to deal with other things regarding the case so that left you and Sam. Alone. You felt, for the first time in years that you knew Sam, awkward to be around him. On the ride to the witness’ house, you barely talked, something that rarely happened between the two of you. You thought about asking what was wrong but that didn’t work the first time so you hadn’t done it again.
Right now, you sat on the passenger seat of the Impala, staring at Sam's hands gripping the steering wheel. He had hardly looked at you throughout the whole day — or so you thought.
Sam was in an intense battle inside his head and the way you kept looking at him wasn't helping. When he left the room after talking to Dean, he thought he felt brave enough to tell you everything he wanted to but, once he saw you sitting in the backseat in all your beauty, he was reminded of why he hadn't done it before.
He looked at you in secret everytime you were distracted. The way your hips moved when you walked, the way you crossed your legs in the seat every now and then. Oh what he wouldn't give to squeeze your thighs between his fingers right now. You had your arms crossed in front of your chest and — may Sam be forgiven — but the way it made your breasts look when you did that.
He gripped his fingers against the steering wheel even tighter, grounding himself from his thoughts, his knuckles turning white. He sped up the car, unconsciously trying to get back to the motel quicker.
You looked at his side profile then, a quizzical look on your face. He still didn’t look at you.
“Sam” You called. He didn't acknowledge it entirely, his head to focused on not getting a boner at the thought of fucking you in the backseat. You inch closer to him, a hand on his shoulder, “Sam!”
“What!” He answers, dryly. You brush it off, already used to his attitude for the day.
“You don't need to go that fast, we aren't in a hurry, God damn” You huff and pull your hand away from him, sinking back down in your seat angrily.
“Okay, sorry” He mumbles. You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. A message from Dean. You take your phone and read the message. “Found a bar, don’t wait for me to get back ;)”. You chuckle and send an answer back knowing you’d probably only see him next morning. You told him to be safe – in all ways – and not drink too much. Sam looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Who’s that?”
“Madonna” You reply, sarcastically. He doesn’t say anything so you look at his face, which has an annoyed expression over it. “It’s Dean, he found a bar, told us not to wait for him”
Sam hums in acknowledgement and silence settles again, letting your mind wander over the possibilities of why Sam was acting with you this way. You were usually pretty playful, talked a lot with each other, either in the car or before you both parted ways to sleep, each in your own room. This silence, this avoidance was driving you nuts trying to figure out what happened. You felt like crying, honestly, overwhelmed with this feeling inside you. These feelings, plural. Your feelings for Sam mixed with this sickness that downed on you when you would notice he could barely say a word to you.
Lost in your head, you almost didn’t notice when Sam parked Baby in the motel's parking lot, only realizing it when the comforting hum of the engine went away. You both got out of the car, getting your bags in the trunk. You weren’t in the same room as the boys but you felt the need to talk to Sam so, when you came up behind him to his door and got inside his room, stepping in and quickly closing the door behind you, he was confused.
“Aren’t you going to–”
“What’s going on?” You asked, throat tight and heart aching, but you refused to cry. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and you stepped closer to him, standing barely two feet away from the Winchester.
“You’ve been acting cold towards me all day! All damn day. And I have no idea why.” You pressed your index against his chest accusingly, pushing him back slightly, not because you were necessarily stronger, but because you caught him off guard, your outburst was unexpected.
“I didn’t–”
“I tried, okay? I tried to figure out what I did but I…I don’t know. I tried to talk to you earlier today and you brushed me off, you seem incapable of looking at me properly, you’re cold, you’re quiet and I have no idea why so, please tell me. What’s going on?”
Your eyes were glassy and your heart was racing. Sam was speechless, he didn’t know you were feeling this way. Dean had told him, of course, but he had no idea you were actually that affected by his distancing. And to think that he only stood away because he didn’t want to make you feel bad or creeped out about his nervousness, it had the exact opposite effect. He felt his heart sink as he saw you holding back tears and his first instinct was to wrap his arms around you.
You hugged him back, thankful for some reassurance that he at least didn’t hate you, your arms wrapped around his waist and your face pressed against his chest. Sam caressed your head, your hair feeling soft under his fingers.
“You didn’t do anything, Y/N, don’t say that” He told you.
You pulled away from his chest to look at him. “Then tell me what’s wrong”
Sam sighs and closes his eyes momentarily. He had imagined this moment thousands of times, where he told you about how he felt. He couldn’t believe it would be after he ignored you because you were too hot to handle. He looked at you again, drowning in your beautiful eye color, one that he could stare for hours at its beauty. He then looked up, asking for the strength to tell you all he wanted, his throat visible to you as he swallowed his nerves.
“Actually, yeah, you kind of did something” He says, moving his hands until he was holding your upper arms, a smirk on his lips as he eyes you down. You opened your mouth, shocked, but, before you could say anything, he continued. “You drive me crazy, Y/N”
You stood still, scared to move as he talked. You were confused, lost. Hadn’t he just said you had nothing to do with this? Meanwhile, Sam just looked at you for a few seconds, silent. He took you in completely, your body still hidden under the FBI suit but he felt like he already had it memorized. He wanted to touch you, to feel you and he felt like, if he held back any longer, he could lose you. Lose you to someone who wasn’t scared of loving you. “Sam, I don’t–”
“Just– Look at you. You are one of the most amazing women I know, you’re strong, you’re smart, you– God, there’s no words that can describe just how incredible you are. You care for people more than you do for yourself and, even if that makes me angry sometimes, it just shows how big of a heart you have” He takes a breath. “You can be dying but you’d still put a bandaid on someone's scraped knee just because they asked you to, because you care.”
Sam slowly moves his hands to hold you by your neck, his rough palms hot against your skin. You had no words, you just hoped that your eyes could talk for you as you stared into his hazel ones. You had so much to say but words refused to form in your mouth. You never thought Sam would be the one to confess, hell, you never thought he even liked you that way. Hearing him say those things was like getting hit by a train of happiness. You raised your hands to wrap around his wrists, gently holding them as you prayed for him to continue.
“You’re the girl I picture to be forever in my life, if not as a lover, please let it be as a friend. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, but, at the same time, I can’t keep these feelings to myself much longer. If you don’t want me that way, it’s fine, but I need you here with me, one way or another” Sam finishes and starts searching your face for any kind of reaction. He just put his heart in your hands and it was up to you to shatter it or not. He felt his nerves on fire. He rubbed his thumb against your jawline to keep himself grounded and hold onto the comforting thought that you hadn’t pulled away from his touch.
You suddenly smiled, wide and proud. Sam seemed to relax when he saw it, a breath he didn’t know he was holding coming out of his mouth. You felt a rush of happiness go through you as you realized he wasn’t avoiding you because he was mad at you, he was avoiding you because he wanted you so bad he felt like he could make you mad. And that was so Sam. It was exactly like him to tone down his own feelings because of other people and how they might feel, even if it eats him on the inside. What felt even better is that he managed to muster up the courage to come here and tell you about everything in the most Sam way possible, in a way that made shivers run through you.
“Sam Winchester, if you don’t kiss me right now I might just–” He didn’t even let you finish, his plump lips crashing against yours in earnest. He waited months for this and there was no way he was delaying this further. Your words are swallowed down by his mouth along with a surprised gasp you let out. One of his hands went further until it held you behind your neck, his thumb still caressing your jaw as relieved breaths came out of his nose, he was so nervous he would get dumped and his heart crushed that kissing you felt better than anything he ever imagined. The dream might’ve been good but actually kissing you felt so, so much better.
Your lips were sweet and your skin felt soft, a big contrast against his rough hands from handling weapons and burning bones. Those dreams of his came to mind yet again, the thought of exploring your whole body with his mouth made him groan, opening his mouth and teasing your lips with his tongue so you’d open them. You gladly did, letting one of your hands wrap around the base of his neck, pulling him in. 
He lowered one of his hands to your waist through the inside of your black suit, pulling your body flush against his, squeezing your skin through the layers of clothing, eager to feel every inch of you. You groaned at his touch, a surge of heat polling into your belly. His hands took the opportunity to explore what he could – like dream Sam did – trailing his fingers up your back and you shivered, the light touch just making your need for him bigger.
His tongue explored your mouth, the kiss growing more heated within the moment. He starts to gently take the suit off your body, sliding it against your arms without breaking the kiss. Sam thinks for the first time in the last few seconds. He thinks about all the times he imagined being able to do this and, now that he had the chance and his feelings were reciprocated, he wanted to make it as good as possible for the both of you. He pulls away, wanting to make sure that you are on board with this.
His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you, pupils dilated with desire – desire for you. Not once in your life have you thought that Sam would look at you that way – and God how much you dreamed of it. He was always much more secretive with his antics than Dean was, often keeping to himself instead of bragging about it, but you knew. You knew he was a passionate lover and the way he behaves just gives away how much of a gentleman he must be in bed. 
“Is this okay? Are you okay with this?” He asked you, voice filled with lust and deeper than his usual. You could’ve melted right then and there as he looked between your eyes, searching for any discomfort. Instead of telling him, you decided to show Sam how bad you wanted him. You slowly walked back, dropping the suit he already had taken halfway off from your body to the ground. You didn’t take your eyes off of him and he stared intensely at you right back, attentive to what you were going to do.
Your hands slowly trailed up your body, roaming through your curves and you see Sam swallow, his fists clenching and unclenching beside him, his throat so deliciously biteable. Once your fingers arrived at the top button of your white shirt, you started to unbutton one by one, slowly. You took your time, eyes trained on his with a smirk on your lips. You were playing bold but the way he was looking at you made your knees weak. His eyes were analyzing every movement of your hands and he stood unbelievably still, like a hunter watching its prey, careful to not scare it away.
Once the last button was undone, you dropped the white clothing to the ground. You now stood in your bra, the cold of the room hitting your skin and making goosebumps rise over it. You got closer to the man again and he accompanied you with his hazel orbs, now a tone darker due to his dilated pupils and the poor lighting in the room. You took one of his hands and placed it against your bare skin, the hot touch making you sigh before grabbing him by the neck with the other hand, bringing his face closer but, instead of kissing him, you placed your mouth closer to his ear.
“I want you, Sam” You whisper in his ear and leave a kiss right below it. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, keeping as much control as he could, biting his lower lip. He groans and a ton of thoughts go through his head – you, naked below him, your attitude gone as he fucks it out of you, pleasurable moans of his name coming out of your mouth. I want you, you said. He strongly grips your hips with both hands, making you yelp, and pushes you towards the bed, manhandling you successfully. Once your back is against the mattress, Sam immediately attacks your neck, kisses and bites making you sigh his name and arch your back into him.
“You have no idea what you do to me” He mumbled against your skin. And, really, you had no clue. He had spent the whole day thinking about this exact moment. The whole day, more like the last 4 months. The months where he had the urge to smash whatever man’s head that flirted with you against a wall and kiss you right then and there, in front of everyone to show who you truly belonged to. “For ages I’ve been thinking about you like this, you are everything that I think about and it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane”
He bites you particularly harder and you moan, your hand flying to his head and tugging at his hair. “Sam!” Your plea came out pathetically needy and he pulled away from your neck to look you in the face, his strong arms caging you beneath him and making you focus solely on the grin he had displayed on his lips. He kisses your lips again, passionate and needy, a groan rippling deep in his throat.
With his lips still glued to yours, he tugged his own suit away from his body, fumbling with the clothing and throwing it away so quick you barely noticed it, loosening his tie and bringing his hands right back to your body, because now that he could touch you, there was nothing in the world that could take him away. He landed his hands on your ribs and trailed then behind your back, his fingers teasing against your bra.
He broke the kiss and with unsteady breaths close to your mouth he asked: “Can I?” as he teases his finger under the bra strap. You hummed in approval and grabbed both his cheeks, giving him a firm peck on the lips to emphasize it.
“Yes, you can, please” You say. It came out much needier than intended but Sam didn’t seem to mind. You thought he didn’t, but he did. He smiled at you, feeling pride in the thought of making you needy and, hearing your voice – that’s so assertive and strong on a daily basis – breathy and desperate, made him wonder why he hadn’t done this earlier. You looked stunning under him and no dream could ever picture what he was seeing. Your eyes hooded, mouth agape and thumbs caressing the stubble on his face, eager to touch him as much as he was to touch you. He was looking right through the gates of heaven.
He proceeded to unclasp your bra, gently taking it off of you. He does all that without taking his eyes off your face and only allows himself to look down once the undergarment was long forgotten, laying on the ground. You didn’t know what to do or where to look, turning your face from him and feeling your cheeks heat up. You, of course, had been with other men in bed and you never truly cared if they didn’t think of you above a one night stand – you didn’t think much of them either. But Sam made you feel nervous. He was being so caring up until now, contrasting against most men you’ve been with, the thought of not reciprocating it properly made you shy below him.
He was appreciating the perfection he had under him, his fingers trailing your sides affectionately when he noticed your face turning away. You were biting your lip and avoiding his piercing gaze and he raised a hand to hold your chin, slowly turning your face to look at him again. He kissed you to ease your nerves but, this time, it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t simply a carnal need, he kissed you with love, with passion and you could feel it tearing through your soul, his feelings pouring out and painting your insides.
He pulled back again and his eyes traveled through your face as a smile painted his lips. “You’re beautiful” He says and you smile back at him widely, your heart racing in your chest. You didn’t know what to say to that so you grabbed at his loose tie that hung just below your jaw and pulled him in harshly, smashing your lips against his. The unexpected move made Sam lose his balance and you took the opportunity to change your positions, laying him back on the bed as you straddled his waist with your legs.
Sam gripped your hips as you made out, gently rolling you over him and you felt it. You felt him under you through the clothing you both still had on and a whine escaped your lips into the kisses. Sam leaves your lips to start attacking your neck, leaving hickeys and bites behind. He was holding onto the last ounce of control he had, you were just so much. Every little noise you made went straight to his cock and he couldn’t handle it anymore, you still had too much clothing on and he needed to do something about it.
Sam turned both of you over again and left your lips to stand straight in front of you. The sight of you half naked, splayed out over the bed, hair messed up, shiny spots from his saliva against your neck and collarbone was very close to the sight he’d dreamed about. But a hundred times better. Because this was real, he was touching you, kissing you, marking you and making you his.
He felt suffocated in his own clothes and he took the opportunity to take off his tie and his white shirt along the way, slowly revealing his defined body. You swallowed to try and not drool over the sight, his strong physique covered by a thin layer of sweat, the tattoo he had on his chest contrasting against his tanned torso and few scars he had here and there. Some were white, others were pink-ish – more recent – but he looked fabulous no matter what. You’d seen him shirtless before, while patching him up or when the bunker was too hot for either of the brothers but none of those situations were as intimate as this. He was half naked only for your eyes to see – as much as you were for his.
He noticed your stare and he smirked as he approached your lower belly with his mouth. You held your breath and closed your eyes as his mouth made contact with your skin. From then on, he kissed his way up, biting here and there in places only you would know if the mark was still there the next day. He kissed your own scars that were scattered through your torso softly, treating them with care because, as much as him, you had gotten hurt on hunts. Besides, he found it amazing how strong you were. He admired you and your scars were there to prove to everyone who saw you that you were a fighter.
His hands came up alongside his kisses, caressing your sides so lightly it was almost ticklish. When his mouth got to the valley of your breasts he looked up at you, a question in his eyes. He had his hands placed right below your boobs, not moving, not touching them, just there as he waited for your approval. You were burning up from the inside out, the sight was so much. His eyes pleading for you to let him touch you, his hair making a curtain around his face.
“Touch me, Sam” You whisper, knowing that even if it wasn’t loud, he could hear you. He grinned and went right into action, his hands filling themselves up with your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. You let out a low moan, the little stimulation you got from his fingers finally doing something to soothe the fire inside you.
He joined with his mouth, sucking and licking deliciously at it. You flew a hand to tangle into his hair, unconsciously tugging at his roots when he lightly bit at your nipple. Sam would groan against your skin every time you would tighten your fingers in his hair and he felt like he could cum just by hearing your faint pleas and breathless whines. He continued kissing up after that, his hands still squeezing your breasts lightly.
His mouth marked your collarbones with hickeys, painting your skin with reds and purples. He nipped at your neck, sucking at your pulse point and you bucked your hips against his, the pleasure too much and too little all at once. He was taking his time with you, appreciating every second that he could get and yet you felt his desperation when he tightened his hands around your boobs once your crotch hit his.
You tugged his hair harder to bring his face close to yours and Sam complied. You smashed your lips against his, the kiss all tongue and teeth, completely desperate. Your breathing was heavy and Sam brought his hands to your back, lifting it off the bed and making your chest glue against his, your sensitive nipples grinding against his skin. You clawed your nails on his shoulders to keep yourself together, markings that looked like half moons left behind in your desperation to remind you all this was real.
You dragged your hands down his arms, nails lightly scraping over his skin, and gently guided his forearms down, his hands going along. He proceeded to rest his palms over your covered ass, groaning in your mouth when he realized what you were insinuating. You wanted more, needed more.
You pulled back from his mouth just enough so you could talk. You opened your eyes to see one of the sexiest views you’ve ever encountered. Sam’s mouth was open, unsteady breaths hitting your mouth as his eyes stared down at you. You brought a hand to his cheek and just appreciated the sight for a moment before your mouth gave him an open mouthed kiss below his jaw. You felt goosebumps down your spine when he moaned lightly at your action, his hands squeezing at your ass. You placed your mouth close to his ear and Sam closed his eyes, waiting to see what you were going to do now.
“Fuck me, Sammy, don’t hold back” You whispered and Sam’s knees almost gave out, the nickname he usually hated hearing sounding so sweet coming out of your mouth. He pulled back to look at you.
“Are you sure?” He asked, looking between your mouth and your eyes. You nodded.
“Yes” Was all you had to say before he grabbed at the hem of your pants, dragging them down your legs. He distanced himself from you to kneel between your legs, face to face with your covered pussy, the only thing you were wearing now being your panties.
After discarding your pants, Sam roamed his hands slowly up your legs, from your ankles to where your hips connected to your thigh. You were clenching and unclenching your fists beside your body, holding your torso up with your elbows and looking down to see him hypnotized by your soaked underwear, his eyes glued. You were embarrassedly wet and, as Sam dragged a finger over it, grinding against your neglected clit, you bucked against his hand, whining.
“Sam…” You pleaded and he finally looked up at you. You were taking deep breaths, your chest going up and down, decorated by the marks left by his mouth and teeth. You looked stunning. “Do something” 
And he does. He kisses right above your covered sex and you moan deep in your throat again, fingers gripping the sheets. Sam was feeling pride in himself. He was the one who got you like this, not any other man. He was the one you were begging for and he was the one who was going to give you everything you wanted. He wanted to worship you atom by atom of your being because that was what you deserved, he was going to treat you like the goddess you were.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and, like he was opening a present he long wished for, – which was kind of true – he takes it off so calmly you were close to combusting. When Sam finally sees you completely nude for the first time, only for his eyes to see and outside of his dirty dreams, he hums in delight. Fucking hums. He’s done for the moment he sees your cunt, wet and glistening just for him. Oh how badly he wanted this, for so, so long he wanted you like this and now he was finally fulfilling his deepest desire.
He squeezes your thighs in his hands before reaching for your sex, his middle finger collecting your wetness in his finger. You buck against his hand again, this time even more sensitive and neglected than before. And you cry out, not with tears, but a desperate sob for attention. Sam notices that and looks up at your face to see your eyebrows furrowed and a sheen of sweat in your forehead, you looked so fucked out without even him actively doing anything. He softened and caressed your sides with his hands, soothing your nerves – or trying to, at least.
“Shh, pretty girl, I’m gonna take care of you” He says “I’m just appreciating how perfect you are, taking my time with the girl of my dreams”
Your face softened and you felt your cheeks warm up even more than they already were. You bit back a smile. You felt unique at that moment, as if you were the only woman in the world as he said the sweetest words inches away from your pussy, it was almost laughable to think that one of the most romantic things you’ve ever heard was said between your legs.
Sam smiled at you and started kissing your inner thighs, so close yet so far from where you truly wanted him. He loved kissing your skin, he loved to feel you and you were keeping that in mind. He expressed his love physically rather than using words and you were just realizing it wasn’t just in bed he was like that. He always wanted to cook for you, he knew how you liked your drink, he would take care of you when you would get too drunk or when you were hurt or not feeling great. He hugged you, kissed the top of your head, pranked you. He gave you his jacket when you were cold or for you to use as a pillow when you were sleeping on a longer ride. He protected you, even if he knew you didn’t need it, either literally, putting his body in front of yours when someone or something threatened you, or not letting you go alone on hunts – including this one, where you had offered to go alone to questioning and, even if he was technically avoiding you, he wasn’t going to let you go solo.
Sam had loved you for so long and you were oblivious. Were. Because now he was digging his fingers in your thighs, mouth closing over your clit and you were arching your back. His stubble scratched your inner thighs, adding more to the building pleasure in your belly. He sucked at your cunt so skillfully that you wondered how long you would last like this and how much he had practiced to have a mouth that was able to do that. He moved his hands to your ass again, bringing your hips up and burying his face deeper into your heat.
He felt like he could die happy between your thighs because he wasn’t leaving there anytime soon. You were delicious and he was drinking in your noises like a drug, getting high off his lust and your taste. He hummed and groaned against your pussy, his cock pulsing so bad it practically hurt, almost cumming in his pants just from this.
“Sam– Oh God, please, please, plea–se” You cried out, the pleasure almost too much, the foreplay making you sensitive to a level you felt everything ten times harder. Sam knew exactly what he did to you, it was like he edged you consciously, knowing you’d beg for him louder once he finally got to touching you. And damn him because it worked, you were a moaning mess and he would be lying if it didn’t stroke his ego to hear you plead for him, submitting to his ministrations so quickly, it was adorable.
He was eating you out with everything he had, digging his nails on your skin. You were soon close to the edge, tightening your thighs around his head so he would not pull away. Everything around you consisted only of him, his scent, his noises, his body, him. It was overwhelming and, with a loud cry of his name, you came, hard.
The room went out of focus, your eyes rolling back in pure pleasure. You had trapped Sam’s head between your legs and he hadn’t stopped. He kept licking you clean, completely lost in your pussy. He could stay like that forever, until his jaw went sore, just so that he could hear you over and over again while he’s nose deep into your cunt. He only comes back to the real world – the one that doesn’t consist in an infinite loop of your voice moaning his name – when you pull at his hair and your thighs open space to let him get up.
“T’much Sammy'' You say, breathless. You bring him up from your cunt, and look at his face, glistening with your juices, a giddy smile on his lips – like a kid who just got a truckload of candy dumped at their house – and cheeks red from the heat. You smile back at him and giggle. Who would’ve thought that he would make you cry for him to touch you and, minutes later, you’d be laughing at his mischievous grin from making you cum.
You brought him back up with a hand behind his neck and he gladly crawled on the bed until he was face to face with you again, his hands supporting his upper body so he wouldn’t crush you. You looked at him for a few seconds, a look that you intended to fill with love and care and he reciprocated, his head angling 45° with a gentle smile that made him look absolutely adorable. You put a strand of his hair behind his ear, which proved useless as it fell right back to curtain his face, his hair being too straight and too soft to hold up like that. You chuckled lightly and pulled him in for a kiss.
You could taste yourself on his tongue, the saltiness making you hum in his mouth. The kiss grew heated fast and you started to roam your hands over his chest, his muscles tensing under your light palms. You explored his body as much as he did to yours, caressing over every visible muscle he had – which, honestly, was a lot. When you got to his abs, Sam broke the kiss to let out a shaky breath. He gently grabbed your wrists and kneeled on the bed, his body now in its full glory above you, the lightning in the room making his body even more defined.
With your wrists in his hand, Sam dragged your palms, that were flattened against his skin, lower. And lower. Until you were touching the hem of his pants that he still, incredibly, had on. You stared at the bulge he had right below, swallowing thickly and letting out a deep breath, your cunt clenching in response. He looked big. You should have an idea, Sam was 6’4, of course it would be proportional to his height but God if it didn’t make you think about swallowing him down, the tip hitting the back of your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as he fucked your face.
“Want me to take them off?” You hear his voice, snapping you out of your fantasies. You looked up at him and down again. You hooked your fingers in the waistband and, on cue, Sam let go of your wrists. You slowly brought his pants and underwear down at the same time, too eager to keep up the foreplay and too desperate to tease.
When you finally see it, an audible groan reverbates in the back of your throat. Sam moans lowly, the pain from the constriction caused by his boxers and pants finally going away and making him even more aware of the neglect his dick got up til now. He watches your reaction carefully and, one of the first things you do is throw your legs back, standing on your knees, one hand supporting your body as the other stops midway to his dick. Sam felt his whole body burn with need. God what did he do to deserve you.
You were on all fours in front of him, head inches from his cock, eyes now looking up at him with a question. You felt like if you opened your mouth you would drool, you needed him inside it and you were silently asking him if it was okay.
Sam angled his torso to bring his face closer to yours, grabbing your chin with his hand and giving you a firm peck on the lips. “Do it, beautiful” He whispered against your mouth and straightened up again and you confirmed with a nod before wrapping your hand around his dick.
Sam breathed out when you started to pump him, your hand doing light movements. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of your name, a silent plea and you gladly listened. You wrapped your mouth around the tip, just the tip for now, and circled your tongue around it, the salty taste of precum invading your mouth. Sam’s hand instantly flew to your head, encouraging you to take him deeper, but not forcing you. Still, you started to relax your throat and took as much of him as you could, hollowing your cheeks.
“Y/N, baby, Jesus” Sam sighed and your insides tingled. You took what you couldn’t take in your mouth with your hand, squeezing and pumping using your spit as lube. You could feel Sam holding back, his hips stuttering every now and again. You braced yourself, deciding to give him more, and placed your hands on his thighs, tapping it twice with your index finger. Sam looked down at you, swallowing his breathy groans. He damn near came just by looking at you, those beautiful eyes staring up at him, your mouth wrapped around his dick. He concentrated, remembering the silent message you sent him.
“I don’t want to hurt you” He said and you did your best to shake your head no in your conditions. You won’t. And emphasized it by squeezing his thighs and pushing your head forward. Sam sighed and nodded. “Okay, but if it’s too much, tap three times, get it doll?” He asked. The nickname made you shiver, his voice sounding so sweet calling you that. Brushing it off you tapped his thigh three times, just for him to know you understood what he said. 
Sam started to rock his hips back and forth slowly, using your mouth for his pleasure. All you did was relax your throat as much as you could and breathe through your nose. He started to quicken up within time, losing his control as his release came closer. He was grunting and moaning and all his noises went straight to your pussy. He let out sighs of your name, his head thrown back and his neck glistening with sweat, his Adam's apple bobbing everytime he swallowed.
Too enamored by his noises, you lost focus and gagged on his cock, tears stinging your eyes. Sam loudly moaned your name at that, hips faltering as he tugged at your head to take your mouth off his cock. His breathing was heavy and his mouth was dry and he stood face to face with you to kiss your lips again, moaning inside your mouth. You were a bit disappointed that he hadn’t cum but you swallowed his whines gladly with your mouth, clasping your hands on each one of his cheeks. He pulled away and caressed a thumb over your lips.
“What have you got in that mouth of yours sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk and you bit your lip.
“Says the one who was eating me out like a starved man” You replied, wrapping one arm around his neck as your index finger traced his lips before giving them a peck, smiling once you pulled away. He smiled at you before wrapping his arms around your waist, like he would in a hug, and throwing you back. You shrieked as you landed on your back and Sam laid practically on top of you, attacking your face with tiny kisses, making you laugh under him.
Once he stopped, he just stared down at you. “Hi” He said.
“Hi” You whispered back after your laugh died down.
“Did I already tell you you’re beautiful?”
“Once…twice”
“You’re beautiful” He said, again “I’ll never stop telling you that”
“I can deal with it” You teased and he chuckled, going right back to kissing you.
Sam was one of a kind. You had taken some time to truly understand why you had fallen in love with him in the first place but there was not just one thing that made Sam Winchester special, everything he did just added up. From the huge things to the tiny details, he just was so easy to fall in love with and these moments were definitely one of those in the list, in which, no matter the situation, good or bad, Sam could make you smile.
As he kissed you now, his hands roamed your body like he had done before until two of his fingers teased at your entrance and you rolled your hips against his hand. Blowing him had made you aroused again and you could feel your wetness coating his fingers. Sam smirked in your mouth before slowly inserting his middle and ring finger inside your wetness. Your mouth left his to let out a moan, your foreheads glued.
Sam opened his eyes to watch your expression as he hooked his fingers inside you. You whined, your eyebrows furrowed and your nails left angry red trails over his shoulders. He lowered his head to kiss your neck open mouthed. He started to scissor his fingers inside you, preparing for what you knew was coming and you gladly relaxed around his fingers, grinding your cunt on his digits.
“Sweetheart, I need to be inside you, I need you” He whispered in your ear and you whined at the thought, nodding in approval.
“Yes, Sammy, please” You breathlessly said. Sam took his fingers out from your hole and you held back a complaint from the emptiness once you saw him pumping his hardened cock with the hand he used his fingers to prepare you, lubricating himself with your juices. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you again.
He wanted to watch you as he sunk himself into your heat and that’s what he did. He slowly started to enter you and your mouth opened in a silent moan at the stretch. He was filling you up deliciously well, right in the division between pain and pleasure and, the deeper he went, the harder your nails dug on his shoulders.
Sam was also struggling. Your tightness enveloped him in a way no one had ever done before and it felt so fucking good to bury himself inside you. He started to distract you from the possible painful stretch with kisses over your collarbones and neck, focusing on relaxing your body so he could make love to you properly.
At last, you felt his pelvis connect with yours and you were so amazingly full. His dick hit places inside you you could never reach alone and it felt incredible. 
Once you were used to his size and craving more, you rolled your hips against his, making Sam suck in a breath. He was trying to keep his composure but he was holding on his last ounces of control and when you moved he damn nearly lost it.
“You can move” You whisper and Sam wastes no time fulfilling your request, immediately starting to pump into you. He was euphoric, his mind was blurry as only images of you naked under him and begging for him to fuck you went through his head. You would tighten your walls around him from time to time and that would cause his breathing to falter and his hips to stutter.
You weren’t much different, every buck of his hips would hit you in a spot that made you see starts. You were already overstimulated from his previous ministrations so you knew you weren’t going to last long and, from the way Sam was twitching inside you, you knew he wasn’t going to either.
“Sam, I’m s’close” You moaned close to his ear.
“Me too, baby” He said as he brought his hand to press over your lower belly. You nearly screamed as he did that, you could feel him even better, his shape feeling like it was being permanently molded inside you. Along with it, he reached a thumb to rub over your clit – his big hands be damned – and at that you finally went over the edge with a desperate cry of his name. 
Your vision blurred as the only thing you knew was real was the feeling of emptiness since Sam was chasing his own release after leaving your warmth. He pumped his cock a few times and proceeded to cum over your belly, painting your skin with his liquids. You were spread out on the bed for a while longer after that, Sam panting above you, his softening dick still in his hand and you completely fucked out with a lazy smile on your face.
Once that high passed, Sam took you to the bathroom – bridal style – and cleaned you up in the bathtub with warm water and gave you the privacy you needed after he sorted himself out too, leaving the bathroom on his boxers.
You took your time, using the toilet so as to not get any infections and leaving the bathroom completely naked, too lazy to actually put clothes on. You just wanted to sleep beside Sam and wake up happy in his arms.
He saw you coming out of the room and smiled, eyeing you up and down.
“No clothes?” He asked
“Unless you’re uncomfortable, I think we’re past that” You joked and he shook his head.
“I don’t mind, come here” He said, opening an arm to invite you to lay over his chest and you gladly did, jumping on the bed and wrapping your arms around his torso, laying your head on his firm chest. Sam covered both of you with the white sheets, hiding your exposed body under them. You laid silent for a moment, just drowning in each other's company as you listened to his steady heartbeat.
Sam caressed your upper arm, his mind running with a thousand thoughts in which a thousand and one consisted of you. 
“Hey, want to know something?” Sam asked. He was taking advantage of the situation because now he was confident enough to do so, and he wasn’t delaying this any further if his mind would allow him. You lazily looked up at him, your chin now resting on him. Your eyes stared at him with so much appreciation that he felt even more encouraged to tell you what he wanted to.
“I think I love you” He blurted out. You felt your face warm up and smiled widely, but didn’t lose the opportunity to tease him for his choice of words.
“You think?” You raised an eyebrow. Sam panicked inside.
“No, I mean that–”
“I think I love you too” You interrupted before he could say anything else, your giddy smile never faltering. Sam relaxed and pulled you in for a kiss to seal this promise.
Who would’ve thought that Sam would have his dream come true at the end of everything. Yet, here you were, half-asleep in his arms after you admitted your love for each other.
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A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading. XoXo
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peachtarto · 2 days
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Now or Never
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Pairing : Luke Castellan x reader
Word Count :
Summary : Luke missed his chance to ask you an important question, and is painfully unaware of it.
Warnings: mostly fluff! nothing crazy- Luke is dumb, Clarisse is an overprotective bestie, talk of self-doubt etc.
Masterlist here!
A/N : thinking of making this a little series of moments in your relationship- let me know if that’s something you guys would like!
‘Don’t you think it’s a little much?’ You questioned, eyeing your own reflection with what some might call a generous amount of scrutiny.
Silena gave no indication that she’d heard and continued talking, ‘there’ll be such good food, and wine of course, lots and lot of wine..’
The pins in your hair were already beginning to ache, and you tried not to wince as she added yet another one to the elegant braid she was painstakingly creating.
‘- imagine if we made this much fuss for our birthdays,’ she continued, ‘like, I get that he’s the god of festivity but I’ve got to question why he wants to party with a load of hormonal teenagers. Not that I’m complaining, we could all use a good party.’
Silena was already dressed: a deep purple gown of silk accented with golden cuffs, and little combs fashioned like gilded laurel leaves swept her hair away from her face. She looked beautiful, and there was not a doubt in your mind that she was the daughter of Aphrodite.
She’d picked out your dress which had been a relief, a soft chiffon that seemed to float when you moved. It was simple but elegant, she’d insisted- perfect for a daughter of Athena. She’d also said that the hair should match, but it’d been half an hour since she’d started and it was starting to feel everything but simple.
‘And can you believe we’re allowed to switch tables tonight? I can’t wait! Charles said we’d sit together obviously and I’m sure the Hermes boys will join as and..’
Her smile faltered when she saw the look on your face and she quickly halted her movements, ‘oh, don’t you like it?’
‘No no, it’s beautiful!’ You stammered quickly; she’d curled and brainded your hair back in a thick, loose plait with little gold pins shimmering throughout. Even in cabin 10, her skills were unrivalled. ‘I just- do you think it’s too much?’ You questioned again.
‘Too much?’ She scoffed, and then her full lips parted in a dazzling smile, ‘of course it’s too much, that’s the point! We want every boy in this camp on their knees! Figuratively of course.’
You tried to hide the smile that tugged on your lips, ‘You’ve already got Charles drooling after you non-stop, leave some for the rest of us.’
‘Some?’ She said and grinned rather fiendishly, ‘or do you want me to leave just a certain son of Hermes for you?’
You rolled your eyes and gave her a smooth, and rather horrible gesture as she went back to toying with your hair, giggling to herself.
Silena had been the one to introduce you to Luke two years prior. She’d gracefully swept you into her circle the moment you’d arrived in camp, convinced you would be claimed by her mother too. Had Luke not intervened and taken you to cabin 11 she probably would’ve had you sleeping top to toe in her bunk; she’d reluctantly handed you over, but not before she’d seen the look that had passed between the two of you. Love at first sight she’d insisted, and maybe she’d been mistaken on his end, but she hadn’t on yours.
‘You know, he really does like you. I can tell, and you should believe me because it’s literally my thing.’ She sighed, stepping back to admire her handiwork. She pulled and prodded at a few loose hairs until she seemed satisfied, then dragged you over to the long mirror at the back of the cabin.
You didn’t know how she’d managed it, but for once you didn’t cringe at the reflection you saw and a part of you couldn’t quite believe what stared back. There was no denying she was a master at her craft.
‘You look so beautiful!’ Silena squealed, her hands clasped together in pride. Then, without warning she pulled you into a bone-crushing hug that had the air leaving your lungs. ‘Tonight’s the night, for both of us, I can feel it!’
You hoped she was right as you followed her out of the cabin, towards the glittering lights in the pavilion.
Luke stood with Charles and Chris at the edge of the party, sipping slowly on the glass of wine in his hand. He supposed Mr D had been granted a night of reprieve.
‘Seriously man, chill out,’ he whispered over Beckendorf’s shoulder, ‘she’ll be here. Keep frowning like that and you’ll pop a blood vessel.’
He could sense Charles shifting in his feet nervously and his mouth twitched slightly, he knew the feeling all too well. He’d been on edge all day too. Chris was smirking too, but his was all smugness; he’d asked Clarisse outright to attend the party with him and much to everyone’s surprise, she’d said yes immediately, which was lucky for him because the alternative would almost certainly have been the loss of a limb.
‘How can it possibly take this long to get ready?’ Charles said, turning to face Luke. It was odd to see the son of Hephaestus so flustered when he was normally immune to the whims of teenage hormones; apparently he was not at all immune to the power Silena Beauregard seemed to hold over him. ‘Maybe she’s not coming man, we should just go before- oh..’ he trailed off. His eyes went starry and Luke whipped his head around to see what had entranced his friend.
There was Silena in her finery, tossing her hair over a shoulder as she swept into the pavilion. She threw a dangerously beautiful grin at Charles who was beginning to look a little like he might faint.
‘Hi Charles,’ she offered as she sauntered over. Anyone else might’ve missed the shake in her voice, but Luke caught the slightly nervous wobble of her tone and smiled. Good for Beckendorf.
‘You look great Silena,’ he managed to cough out. He quickly eyed Luke who gave an tiny nod of approval as if to say ‘keep going buddy!’
‘I know,’ she sighed dreamily, giving a little twirl of her dress before looping her arm through Charles’ who was now definitely holding his breath. Silena giggled and patted his chest sweetly before throwing a mischievous glare at Luke, ‘Just wait till you see her, I think you’ll get a little breathless too Castellan. Now come on Charlie, let’s get a drink.’
Luke watched her lead his friend away to where Chris stood with an arm slung around Clarisse’s waist; she’d opted for a gown of stormy grey adorned with tiny silver chains, as close to armour as she could get he guessed. She looked slightly terrifying, until Chris whispered something in her ear that had a blushing like crazy and stepping even closer into his side.
‘They make a great couple, don’t you think?’
Luke spun around quickly at the sound of your voice and cursed silently, Silena had been right. All the air left his lungs in a great breath and he was instantly lightheaded at the sight of you.
Devastating was the only word that came to his mind. Truly devastating. You could’ve walked into Olympus then and there and they probably would’ve pronounced you a goddess in an instant. He was struck dumb, and silent. He wanted to say something about how beautiful you looked, or how he’d been wrapped around your delicate finger the day you’d walked into camp; instead his frantic brain settled on, ‘nice dress, did you borrow it from Silena?’
You flinched. ‘No. We were sent a trunk to pick from from her mother.’
‘Oh.’ Was all he could reply as his gaze raked over you again. ‘That’s awfully nice of her.’
‘Very.’ You said through gritted teeth, trying to stop the scarlet blush you could feel rising to your cheeks. What was his problem? It wasn’t unusual for Luke to be blunt, he always struggled to keep his opinions to himself and it had gotten you both in hot water a hundred times before; but it was unusual for him to be blunt with you.
He’d been distant all week, he’d managed to miss three sparring sessions with you and counsellor duties on several occasions. The first few times Chris had been polite enough to make excuses for him, but when the two of you walked into the arena one morning to find Luke and Travis swinging swords at eachother, he’d stayed silent. He didn’t have to tell you what was already painfully obvious. Luke wasn’t ill, and hadn’t ’slept in late’, he’d just been avoiding spending any amount of time with you. You hadn’t had any idea why; and now, standing in the pavilion with the air thinning in between you both, you were even more confused.
He ran his eyes over your dress yet another time and something seemed to snap in your chest. ‘If you’re going to keep judging my outfit,’ you managed to spit out, ‘do it at the dinner table, I’m starving and don’t have the energy to defend myself. Let’s go sit with the others.’
You span away from him so quickly you missed him opening and closing his mouth as he tried to explain himself. As you stalked towards the table your friends had gathered around you must’ve been wearing a murderous expression, because Silena quirked her eyebrow at him with a face that said ‘what did you say?’ He responded with a small shrug before slipping into the seat opposite you.
Luke tried, and failed, to catch your eye throughout dinner. Food came and went, and glasses of a sweet amber wine refilled themselves as soon as the last drop hit the drinker’s lips. Silena had made her way through at least five glasses by his count, and was whispering something in Charles’ ear that had the man choking on his strawberry tart. You’d barely touched yours, and had politely declined his offer to get you something else to drink. You’d barely touched your dinner either, pushing things around your plate with your fork until Connor had unceremoniously dumped the contents of it onto his own. He felt he should apologise for his brother’s behaviour, but when he’d tried, you’d turned to watch the campers dancing by the fire.
The soft light from the flames flickered over the planes of your face and he knew he shouldn’t stare, but after starving himself of you for almost a week, he was finding it hard to look away. If he was honest with himself, it had been almost impossible to endure. You’d spent almost every day together for two years; a week apart had him feeling like he was missing a limb.
But a week apart was better than a week of watching male campers saunter up to you in a flurry of proposals. He’d managed to stick around long enough to see two Ares boys crash and burn and that was more than enough. If the failures were that bad, seeing you agree to attend the party with someone would probably have finished him off. He wondered which insufferable git you’d given in to, which one you’d been stood up by.
Curious, he leaned forward and asked loud enough to get your attention- ‘where’s your date?’
You slid your eyes away from the dancers and faced Luke. He was toying with the stem of his glass. Your throat tightened, and your face warmed uncomfortably. ‘I don’t have one.’
‘What?’ He asked incredulously.
‘Loads of people came alone Luke.’ You said replied quietly, keenly aware of the sudden silence of the conversations between everyone else at the table. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
‘I know, I just thought you would’ve put someone out of their misery. Every guy at camp must’ve asked you.’
‘Almost every guy.’ Chris whispered into his drink, rolling his eyes.
‘A few asked, yes.’ You murmured.
‘And you came alone anyway?’
You could’ve sworn Chris was wincing now, and Clarisse had the good sense to find the lights strung above the tables incredibly interesting all of a sudden. Silena however, looked like she was about to explode. You didn’t even know where to begin, your cheeks weren’t warm anymore, they were burning.
‘Yes.’ You ground out, hoping he’d take the hint and keep his mouth shut for once.
Luke went to speak, but Charles cut in before he could begin. ‘We should go dance!’ He declared, slapping his knees over-enthusiastically and standing so quickly he nearly toppled over his chair. The others rose with murmurs of agreement, eager to get away from what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.
‘You guys go ahead,’ you said, rising from your chair ‘I’m going to get some fresh air.’
You hoped no one would mention that you were already outside, surrounded by fresh air, and thankfully no one did. Silena gave you an apologetic look but you shook it off. The lights suddenly seemed much too bright, and the table of your friends was starting to feel like an audience to your embarrassment. As they all walked towards the fire you began in the opposite direction, lifting your dress slightly to allow your feet to travel quickly towards the cabins.
Luke felt Silena’s hand meet the back of his head in a swift slap before he could reach out to stop it.
‘You are as dense as old bread Castellan!’ She hissed as he cradled his neck. The boys were looking at him disapprovingly, but Clarisse was just glaring at him like she was sizing him up for a fight.
‘Chris where’s my knife?’ She asked coldly, holding her hand out in her boyfriend’s direction.
‘Woah- what did I do?’ Luke exclaimed, which earned him a hard flick right in the centre of his forehead. Whoever said Aphrodite’s children weren’t vicious fighters was beginning to sound like a goddam liar, he thought.
‘Do you know how many guys she turned down for tonight?’ Silena continued, ‘almost every guy at camp! And do you know why Captain No Clue?’
Luke just stared blankly until she let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Because she was waiting for you to ask her! I was hoping you’d pull your finger out by the end of the week but you didn’t, and you let her come alone.’
He flinched. Silena’s face tightened and her dark eyes flicked to Charles. Something unsaid flashed between them before she turned her gaze back on Luke; her anger was gone, replaced with something strangely close to pity.
‘You wanted to ask her, didn’t you?�� She asked- carefully. Her eyes were beginning to crinkle like she was about to burst into tears. She dashed forward and forced him down into a tight hug. ‘Oh Luke, I’m so stupid!’
Clarisse rolled her eyes. ‘Daughter of the goddess of love and you didn’t see this one coming? Even Chris figured this one out!’ She chided, then added sweetly in his direction, ‘no offence babe.’
He thought of every moment he’d spent with you; the hours of sparring sessions under the heat of the summer sun, the picnics out in the strawberry fields, sneaking between your cabins in the middle of the night to swap stories of your lives before all of this. He’d known the risks of falling for you, and he’d done it anyway. He’d thought about telling you a hundred times. He had thought about telling you that he didn’t want or expect anything from you in return, that he just needed you to know how he felt because it was torture to suffer it in silence. Over the months he’d managed to convince himself that you didn’t feel anything close to what he felt for you, and had resigned himself to living in the wake of your existence.
Luke’s heart stumbled, taking all the confusion and doubt with it, he blurted, ‘I should go after her,’ and started after you, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Even at a fast-paced jog, he only managed to catch up with you when you were rushing up the stairs to your cabin, the skirts of your dress billowing out behind you.
‘Wait up!’ he shouted through heavy breaths.
You didn’t let him continue and just increased your pace, rushing to get to the door. If you could make it inside and shut him out, perhaps he wouldn’t see the tears that had begun fall. A small part of you ached to stop and turn to him, but you knew what was coming. Silena would have tried to intervene once you’d left, and he was probably coming after you to let you down gently. You weren’t sure you could survive that.
‘Gods will you slow down!’ Luke yelled, ‘I want to talk to you!’
‘Don’t bother,’ you said bluntly, ‘I know what you’re going to say.’
‘Oh yeah? What am I going to say?’
He’d taken the Athena cabin steps two at a time and was right behind you now. You could hear his ragged breathing, had he ran here? He must really want to get it over with, you thought bitterly. ‘Does it matter? Just go back to the party Luke, they’ll be missing you.’
‘It matters to me. I don’t want to be there if you’re not.’ He said softly and reached out to grab your hand. His fingers grazed your own, warm and steadfast- patiently waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t, you couldn’t bare it.
As you turned to face him fully you realised you were close enough to share breath. In other circumstances you might’ve stared up at him with longing; now all there seemed to be was the awful sinking feeling that you were about to lose him.
You opted to not meet his eyesight, and instead studied the scuffed wood of the cabin porch beneath your feet.
‘Then why didn’t you ask me to go with you?’ You managed to ask. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin like a brand. ‘I thought we were friends Luke, I thought that would be enough to get you to tolerate me for one evening so neither of us had to go alone.’
‘That’s not..’ he took a deep breath before he continued. Now or never, he thought, and opted for now.
‘I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want to go as your friend. I wanted to go as your date. I knew you’d say no, because every guy here was chalking up how to ask you themselves and I couldn’t- I couldn’t stand it. I’d prepared myself to see you with someone else tonight and it caught me off guard to see you alone. I had all these things I wanted to say to you, about how beautiful you looked, but I panicked and said some really stupid stuff back there. And i’m sorry, for all of it.’
It was your turn to take a deep breath, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his own. The air was too tight, humming between your bodies, between your joined hands.
‘Ask me now then.’ You dared.
He was silent for long enough that you dared to look up and meet his eyes. You were sure your expression was mirrored on his own: shock, longing, and then something like amusement.
He was smiling like a kid on Christmas at your offer, broad and unrestrained. ‘You want me to ask you to go to the party with me? Now? After I’ve just poured my heart out?’
‘If you don’t want to that fine.’ You teased, a small smile returning to your face. ‘What was it you said about every guy at camp?’
Luke let out a laugh and took a step closer, ‘I don’t care about the party. Go on a date with me. Tomorrow, today, hell let’s go now. I don’t care. Just go out with me. I’m not waiting another two years for this chance.’
‘Of course I’ll go out with you Castellan.’ You replied softly. You didn’t even have to think about your answer, you’d been preparing it for months.
‘Really?’
‘Yes really.’ You laughed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
With a sudden burst of confidence, Luke leaned down to brush his mouth against your blushing cheek. You thought you might burst then and there as he pulled you into his chest to whisper in your ear, ‘you look beautiful. You are beautiful. Always. Even covered in sweat during sparring practice, or windswept from the chariot races. I can never look away from you.’
He was blushing too when he pulled away, leaving you staring up at him, breathless again. His smile was nervous as he said, ‘I want to do this properly, I’ll plan something great I promise. But for now, I would be honoured if you’d come back to the party with me, as my date.’
You quirked an eyebrow. ‘Will you dance with me?’
‘Of course I’ll dance with you,’ Luke said, wrapping an arm around your waist, ‘I plan to show you off in fact. I’m pretty sure I’ve just achieved the impossible as far as the guys here are aware. I reserve bragging rights.’
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vanteguccir · 1 day
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Drunk and in love | Chris Sturniolo
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Chris Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N goes out with her friends for a girls' night and comes home drunk, so Chris has to take care of her.
Warning: Drunkness.
Requested?: Yes, by @plants-are-fun
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
The sound of the bedroom door opening with force and, consequently, slamming into the wall behind it echoed like thunder through the room.
Chris, who was lying in bed, already showered and using his phone, raised his head abruptly, his eyes wide with fright.
A very drunk Y/N walked through the doorway, the pair of high heels clamped firmly between the fingers of her right hand while her left one grabbed whatever was around her - wall, furniture, even the air - in search of stability.
"Oh my God, babe... Are you drunk?" Chris asked the obvious, throwing his phone aside and getting up, walking quickly towards his girl.
"Mmm. Drunk on my feelings for my baby love. Do you know Chris?" Y/N's voice was completely slurred as a groggy smile decorated her face.
"Yep, you're drunk."
Y/N had decided hours ago to accept her friend's request, and go out for a girls' night out, but she didn't expect to drink as much as she did, let alone come back home drunk.
Not that Chris would get mad. He really just wanted her to have fun.
"C'mon, babe, let's give you a bath and take you to bed, hm?" Chris spoke as he finally approached. His hands automatically found home on her hips, lifting her posture and pulling her so that her full weight was against his body.
"Wait!" Y/N interrupted him, raising her right hand in the air and closing her eyes tightly, forming a mediocre expression of authority. "I'm sorry, kind sir, but I'm a taken woman." She continued, pressing her raised hand against Chris's face in an attempt to push him away.
The brunette closed his eyes quickly - preventing one of his girlfriend's fingers from poking it - and turned his face to the side, trying not to laugh at her sudden formality.
"Y/N, I'm your boyfriend!"
The girl stopped the repeated movement of her hand against his face instantly, her cloudy eyes running over Chris's face, taking note of the features she had memorized in her mind.
"Oh. Hi baby!"
Chris let out a nasal laugh at her response, his eyes shining as he watched a childish smile grow on Y/N's face.
"God, how much did you drink, hm?" The boy returned with his hands around her upper body, starting slow steps.
He guided Y/N to the bathroom carefully, afraid of making any sudden movement and getting her sick or trip and fall.
"Throw your heels over there, babe." The brunette asked as they passed their shared closet, pausing his movements momentarily and watching Y/N mumble, dropping the pair of shoes against the floor with a thud.
"Oh, that sounded funny. Did you hear it?" The girl asked as she giggled, pointing to the place where the heels were, throwing her head to the side as she tried to look at it.
"I did, lovie." Chris responded unsurprised, pushing the bathroom door open with his right foot before entering the smaller room, pulling his girlfriend with him. "Here, sit." The brunette guided her to the toilet, making her sit on the closed lid before leaning over the bathtub, turning the tap on.
"Did you... Did you know that... I really love you." Y/N mumbled almost incoherently as she watched Chris rummage through her skincare drawer, her drunk eyes making his image blurry.
"Yeah?" Chris asked with an amused smile on his face, already knowing the answer. His hands worked on grabbing some wipes and her favorite makeup remover - the one that smelled like roses.
"Yeah, like, a lot! A whole lot, like this..." Y/N expanded her hands exaggeratedly in an attempt to show the extent of her love for Chris, her doe eyes looking up at him from below, expectation swimming in her orbs.
"I love you just as much." Chris whispered, kneeling on the floor between her thighs. The boy quickly curved his upper body, sealing his lips on his girlfriend's knee before returning to his starting position.
The sound of Y/N's groggy voice repeating under her breath how much she loved him in a sing-song way filled his ears, and Chris could feel his heart tumping strongly against his chest as goosebumps ran through his body.
His fingers worked on opening the small packet and taking one wipe out, wetting it with the pink liquid from the makeup remover, before bringing it to Y/N's face. A grunt escaped her lips as she felt the cold liquid against her warm skin.
Chris smiled at her reaction, holding the back of her head gently with one of his hands, keeping her still, while his other one wiped away all the makeup remains from her face.
"I love you way more." Y/N brought the topic up again, her voice coming out like an overbearing child.
"Yes, I know you love me so much, my love. You told me about fifteen times in the last five minutes, hon’."
"Well, it's not enough." The girl barked back, rolling her eyes while crossing her arms.
"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He cocked an eyebrow, throwing the tissue in the trash after finishing his initial task, rising from the floor.
His blue eyes caught Y/N trying to copy his expression, scrunching her brows together instead. Chris let out a low laugh, smoothing the line that formed between her brows with his right tumb, undoing her failed attempt to imitate him.
"C'mon bunny, let's take a bath. Arms up."
Y/N quickly complied, raising her arms as if she were on a roller coaster, her previous anger already completely forgotten.
Chris pulled her crop top up, carefully passing it over her breasts and shoulders, throwing it into the laundry basket. He repeated the same with her skirt and underwear before grabbing a hair tie from her skincare drawer that was still opened.
"Turn around for me, babe." He asked in a low tone, raising his hands so he could quickly catch his girlfriend if she stumbled in her act.
Y/N turned around, patting the soles of her feet against the floor incessantly, an out of tune melody of two completely different songs escaping her lips, filling the bathroom.
Chris held back a laugh, pulling her hair back carefully and tying it into a messy bun in an attempt to stop it from getting wet with the bathwater.
"Come, pretty girl. Into the water we go."
The brunette led her into the bathtub, helping her to step over the high edge and sit on the marble floor, leaning her back against one of the backrests.
"Did you know that there are more chickens than people in the world?" The girl blurted out the information out of nowhere, a drunk laugh escaping her lips afterward.
The brunette stopped his movements, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
Chris quickly made a mental note to remind his girl about it in the morning, feeling interested in finding out more. He would definitely bring that information during a video with his brothers in the future.
"You're so pretty. Your eyes look like an ocean." Y/N quickly changed the subject, blatantly looking at Chris's face, which was close to hers as the boy gently rubbed her skin with her pink sponge filled with liquid soap.
Chris pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling his face burn, knowing that his cheeks turned into a reddish hue instantly.
"Stop looking at me like that." The boy asked in a shy whisper, wrinkling his nose when Y/N tilted her face up, kissing his dry cheek messily, wetting the skin with soap and water.
"No can do, pretty boy."
༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
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~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual
(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
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Unraveled 1
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)
Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.
The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.
The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed. 
The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.
As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.
By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.
He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.
You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”
His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.
“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”
It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”
He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.
“And the shop owner?”
“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.
“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”
He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.
“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”
“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”
“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”
“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”
You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.
“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.
He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.
You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.
“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge. 
He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”
“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”
“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”
“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”
You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”
“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”
“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”
He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”
Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.
“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.
“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”
“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”
“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.
“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.
“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.
“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”
“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”
“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”
You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.
“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”
“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”
“Good day, sir.”
“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.
You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.
“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”
“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”
“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.
Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.
“Very well then, I’ll be off.”
He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.
🪡
Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.
That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.
“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.
“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”
You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.
“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.
“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”
“For me?” You echo.
“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”
“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”
He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.
You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.
You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”
“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”
“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.
You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.
You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.
You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.
“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.
“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.
“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.
As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.
You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”
“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”
“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”
“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”
“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage. 
You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.
You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.
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lilyrizzy · 2 days
Text
Inspired by Daniel’s silly EA advert… hope someone enjoys!
It’s been a good day. A lot of the drivers hate this stuff, putting on the tap shoes for the sponsors and asking how high, but Daniel- He kinda likes it.
It’s something he’s good at, turning up to a set and being silly, making people laugh and being told good job Daniel. That’s great, perfect. The words give his chest the kind of buoyancy that has him feeling he could float the whole way home.
They’re a reminder that soon enough, he’ll be back in Melbourne where everyone will say his name with the same tenderness the director has given him, but this time wanting the best for him, instead of from him.
“Amazing job today Daniel,” Robert says again now, clapping a warm hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “I think that last part was enough just in the one take. You’re a natural.”
The pleased smile on Daniel’s face spreads easily.
“Cool,” is all he says though, “happy to help, I- Actually mate, I was hoping you’d let me have a little something in return.”
“Maxy!” Daniel calls, wrestling with both the front door and the giant box. “Where are you, baby?”
Their house in LA is big, his words bouncing off the walls of the grand entrance hall. Usually, it’s full of friends, sometimes family, but this week for once it’s just the two of them.
“Sofa!” Max shouts back, voice croaky like maybe he’d been napping. He’s probably not left the same spot Daniel left him in this morning. “How was the shoot, was it nice?”
Dumping his keys on the hallway table, Daniel follows the sound of Max’s voice. As suspected, he’s still stretched out across the cushions, belly up like Jimmy when he’s sunbathing in the balcony back home. His hand is shoved down the front of his shorts, but only idly. Daniel can see he’s not hard.
Still, for a moment his gaze gets caught there, before shifting back to Max’s face, his curious expression as he takes in the giant box Daniel is holding.
Right.
“I got you something,” Daniel says, setting it down on the coffee table. He opens it and begins to dig around. “A lot of merch swag and shit, but- Tah dah!”
He pulls out the game, proudly showing Max the box that has his own face on the cover. F1 2024.
“Oh,” Max says, and his smile is as sweet at the two happy pink splotches that begin to warm up his cheeks. “Thank you, Daniel.”
He sits up then, taking the game from Daniel’s hands and holds it like it’s something very special.
It’s not much of a gift really, because Max could get a copy for himself whenever he wanted. His people could call EA, or if he was feeling particularly desperate he could offer to do an ad of his own, but- He wouldn’t.
The only things he’s ever to gone out of his way to get are his championships and Daniel.
“I will have to wait for Lando to get his copy,” Max is continuing, but already he’s moving to crouch in front of their TV, his PlayStation, “or maybe Charles, for the multi-player but-“
“I can play,” Daniel interrupts, picking up the controller from their coffee table. It feels less foreign in his hand after a day being recorded holding it.
Max pauses, game disk spinning on one finger as he turns to look at Daniel.
“You want to play?”
He sounds confused, surprised.
“Sure,” Daniel says, all fake nonchalance. “I’ve even had a head start playing, I might be better than you.”
With a warmth fizzing in his belly, he watches the shock on Max’s face melt into quiet joy. He ducks his head to finish putting the game into the console, and when he takes a seat next to Daniel on the sofa, it’s close enough that their thighs are pressed together. Warm.
“I think if you want to beat me, you will have to hold it like this,” Max pokes at Daniel with a teasing grin, and then his hands are moving gently over Daniel’s to correct where he’s apparently holding the controller all wrong.
Daniel snorts, pushing out an elbow to nudge at the soft place Max’s ribs hide underneath.
“Fighting talk, baby,” he insists with far more confidence than he feels. “Just you wait, you’ll be begging for mercy.”
Max’s laugh is bright.
“Okay but I think we need to look at the settings first,” he begins again, “because of course I have the sensitivity set very high, and-“
Daniel lets Max’s explanations wash over him like music.
Later, Daniel manages to finally win a race by shunting Max into the first corner, speeding away while he’s still spinning in the gravel.
“That of course, does not count,” Max insists indignantly, though there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That is cheating, Daniel.”
“Not what you said in Baku baby,” Daniel reminds him, and then pokes his tongue out when Max begins to trip over his protests that he has done nothing wrong, ever.
Daniel begins a loud rendition of ‘we are the champions,’ in favour of listening.
Giving up his attempts to defend himself, Max tosses his controller onto the coffee table with a sharp clatter, instead choosing to crawl over Daniel, pressing him down into the sofa.
“I will show you a fucking champion,” he mutters, his thigh finding its way between Daniel’s legs.
Daniel’s own controller hits the hard wood floor with a thud.
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beabidobi · 2 days
Text
𝐓𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐭
P5 (last) - “i sit and watch you.”
P4 - “but you tolerate it.”
pairing: f!reader x miguel o’hara
content warnings: angst, post breakup, no happy ending, miguel kinda stalking you (but not creepily yk?)
word count: 477
authors note: thank you all so much for the support, I hope you enjoyed this small series <3
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It’d been almost seven months since you and Miguel broke up and seven months since you’d been on a date. That’s why you were so jittery on your way to dinner with a colleague who asked you out. After the taxi leaves, you enter the restaurant and spot the familiar face. He waves you over and you sit across from him, smiling and trading greetings before ordering.
The night was going by fairly quickly, you were having fun and it definitely wasn’t going as bad as you thought it would having associated this place with Miguel. After an hour, you’d both eaten and waiting for a dessert menu while talking about your interests. You both enjoyed the same movies, books and music; as if you were a perfect match, laughing and discussing until another hour flew by.
Miguel O’Hara could recognise the back of you from anywhere. So when he’s on his way home from HQ, swinging from building to building and he spots an awfully familiar woman stepping out of a taxi in front of the same restaurant he used to take you, he has to stop in his tracks, almost bashing into a wall.
He perches himself onto a roof across the street and looks down into the large transparent windows and sure enough, there you were sat at a booth across from some guy. A guy Miguel currently wanted to gut like a fish. But the way you were laughing. The way your face lit up as if this guy had told the funniest joke in the world. You used to look at him like that at the good times of your relationship, until those looks turned into sadness and disappointment.
Don’t get me wrong, he still wanted to kill the man across from you in unimaginable ways, but he couldn’t help thinking how much happier you looked. All he wanted was you to be happy, and of course he knew it couldn’t be with him.
He must have been there for almost fifteen minutes, staring at you and your companion, before his watch pings and Lyla pops up at his side reporting a nearby shop robbery. Taking one more look at you, he sighs and retreats from the roof edge.
You weren’t sure if you’d gone insane or your brain was playing some horrible trick on you. Because you could’ve sworn you’d seen the flash of Miguel’s holographic suit from the corner of your eye on a roof nearby. Obviously it was the latter, as your brain loved to mess with you, reminding you of Miguel the minute you were having fun.
“Y/n? You okay?” Your colleague Nate asked when he saw the way your face paled slightly while looking outside. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Snapping out of your delusion, you focus back on him with your best attempt at smile. “I’m good.”
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writingsfromhome · 3 days
Text
Dos and Don’ts II
A/N: the story kinda got away from me so it’s getting a part 3. Would love to know what you think of the characters/choices!
Part 1 / 2 / 3
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It’s a beautiful morning; the late summer heat is right around the hour but for now the morning clouds keeps the city cool. I’m sat at Harry’s dinner table with stacks of paper around me, sorting out paperwork whilst on hold with a private venue he was playing in the fall to sort out some details his manager asked me for.
I had become good at my job, multitasking like a pro and not having to leave the room to make a call. After all, it had been nearly half a year of this.
And yet, my relationship with Harry Styles had stayed the same. Sometimes it felt like it got worse.
My other relationships, in the rest of my life, had definitely gotten worse.
“Riley just called said he’s sent over some prints I bought for the bedroom,” Harry pops into the room. “Can you call someone to put them up?”
“Yeah, where do you want them?” I get up so he can show me.
“Somewhere that looks good in there,” he waves his hand. “It’s pictures of me.”
“Of course they are,” I know how big-headed he could be. “Above the bed?”
“Hm,” he heads off to the bedroom so I follow. He examines each wall of his bedroom which was pretty neutral and relaxing to be in. “Why not? Yeah. Above the bed’s good.”
“Great.” With that I head back to my makeshift office.
I wondered why Riley didn’t message me directly about the prints considering we avoided getting Harry involved in these minor decisions.
Maybe I’d ask him tonight. We were having drinks—we tried a bunch of times to get together seeing we were “coworkers” but our timing rarely worked out. Since Gray was out of town the next two nights I’d reached out to Riley.
Evening comes quicker while I’m still buried behind paper. I start tidying up after 7.
“Going home?” Harry asks. He’d been out most of the day at voice lessons.
“Yes, your dinner’s in the oven and Roy said he left cocktails in the fridge.”
“Lovely Roy,” Harry rubs his hands together. “He makes the best drinks.”
I smile and go back to work.
“There’s enough for two,” he calls with his head in the fridge. “You want to join?”
Of course the one night Harry asks me to join him personally—a time I could use to get on his good side, I’m going out.
“I’m actually heading out for drinks myself.” He’s already placed the jug on the marble countertop.
“Oh.” He freezes awkwardly. “With your fiancé?”
“No,” for some reason I feel flustered at his mention of Gray. “With Riley actually. We’ve been meaning to get together for drinks since…I started. Wow. That’s been a long time.”
“Riley,” Harry purses his lips. “Does your fiancé know?”
“It’s a friendly drink,” I feel my temper flare. “I don’t need to report to my fiance.”
“If my fiancé was going out to drinks with a man with loose hands, I’d worry.”
“Well it’s a good thing we’re not engaged,” I mouth off before I can stop myself. He raises a brow and the single movement has me backpedaling. I was such a coward. “So you don’t have to worry.”
“Y/n you get away with a lot but I’d remember who’s working for who.”
I clench my teeth. Just seconds ago he was inviting me for a drink and now I’ve dug myself a grave. I couldn’t be stopped.
I grab my bag and head to the elevator.
“Don’t turn your back on him once he’s got a few drinks in.” Harry calls out.
Asshole, I think.
***
God, Riley talked a lot. He’s got 3 drinks to my 1.5 and really got the gift of the gab.
That is until he starts asking me about Harry.
“Do you find him hot? He’s kind of a lady’s man yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” I laugh. “Got ‘em all lined up.”
“And you?” He asks casually. “Has he got you yet?”
“Riley! I’m engaged,” I flash my ring.
“Didn’t stop the last girl,” he mutters.
“What? What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” I poke him, knowing he wanted to talk about it anyway.
“Just that the last PA he had for…less than a year? She had a boyfriend and everything but one time I pop in early to set up for this masseuse right—I’m there and I hear someone in the bedroom with him. No big deal whatever. Then Harry comes out and he’s fuming just seeing me. Tells me to get out and leave the rest, that I should have called him. All this shite. And then I see her jacket, she wore a very specific jacket, and her shoes off the way. He was angry cuz I caught them.”
“Woah,” I think about the way Harry treats me. “Well I don’t have to worry about that. He can be a right dick with me.”
“He can come off that way. Until you get to know him. Well. He used to be nicer. It’s changed a bit since I started.”
“How long?” I ask, curious.
“Uhh I was his PA for a year and now this for one and a half?”
“Wow. That’s a long time.”
“I know. Too long. Well, big things are coming for me I can feel it. How about you? Are you staying long? I hear the way he talks to you, I don’t know how you put up with it.”
I thought he talked to all his PAs that way. Maybe he was different when Riley was his. Of maybe it was that Riley was a guy. Maybe the fame got to his head. “Uhm. I want to stick around for at least a year. What do you mean the way he talks to me?”
“He’s rude.” Riley runs his hand through his hair. “Don’t you find him rude? You’re surprisingly…graceful, but he’s always bossing you around and then ignoring you.”
I feel a pit in my stomach. So I wasn’t imagining it. “I thought that’s just the way he is.”
“No, you should have met him a couple years ago. A really cool guy. He taught me a lot.” Riley suddenly sobers as he looks off into the distance. “I grew a lot with him. I’m thankful for that y’know?”
“Right,” I nod. “Yeah. I dunno. I’m hoping to learn a lot here.”
“Well if you want to stay connected, keep my number. When you wanna jump ship just let me know.”
I’m surprised Riley is talking so openly about helping me leave. I would have thought he was a Harry die-hard.
“Yeah. Hey are you the one that’s created all those notes on the phone? They’ve been a life saver.”
“Notes? Oh the lists. I made them when I was his PA. I don’t know if the last girl updated any…”
I think of the snarky additions. She definitely did.
“Well I owe you my first-born because without them I’m pretty sure I would have been fired.”
“No you wouldn’t have,” he smirks.
“Uh yeah, I forgot to bring his bloody tablet to the studio the first day. He was so mad.”
“He wouldn’t fire you y/n,” he cocks his head to the side. “Not with the way I see it.”
“Huh?” I ask but Riley’s turned to the bar to ask for another drink.
I excuse myself and freshen up, checking my phone for messages. Gray’s sent me a picture of his hotel view and I send him a quick text back. I wish he was here. Maybe it was time I got home, I was starting to feel tired.
“I’m thinking of heading home,” I tell Riley when I get back.
“Now?” He looks at his watch. “Night’s still young y/l/n.”
“I’ve been up since 6 I’m dead.”
“Fine, I’ll walk you outside.” Riley knocks back half his drink and stands, swaying slightly. I put my hand out to steady him and he smiles down at me.
The pub is crowded as we walk past people, shoulders brushing against strangers. It takes me a second to feel the hand on my back sliding down to my ass.
I whip around to chew out whichever stranger thought he could get a grope but the only person behind me is Riley with a cocky smile.
“You alright? Let’s keep going.”
I can hear the blood pumping in my ears and I stumble back, Harry’s words echoing in my ear.
“I’m alright.” I try to put distance between us. “I’ll walk myself out you should look after your drink.”
“Nah c’mon,” he reaches for me again and I inch back.
“I said I’m okay,” I know my voice comes out harsh due to the fear coursing through my body. But I don’t care.
“Bloody hell alright then,” Riley shrugs. “Night y/n.”
I wait for him to turn and leave before I get out of there. The night air cools down the flush in my cheeks but I can’t get my heart to stop racing. Harry was right and for some reason it makes me angry at him. I’m furious.
All these men just made me feel small and confused all the time. Is that what I had to accept working in this industry? Was I just naïve for thinking things could be decent? That people could be decent?
I wish more than ever that Grayson was here. I imagine him on his own in another city. Then I imagine him alone, at home, while I’m working all the time. It felt like we were on a piece of ice drifting through the ocean and the middle was cracking leaving us to drift alone. My heart feels like it’s cracking with it.
I call Gray on the ride home just to see his face. I listen to him talk about his day and slowly my grip on the anger loosens. Slowly with his voice in my ear, I come back down to earth.
***
It’s a couple weeks after the Riley incident. I’d come into work the next day and managed to ignore Harry for most of it just like he did me.
Today I’m back at the dining table waiting for Harry’s publicist to call me to take me through what was left for this upcoming weekend for a small awards show Harry had been nominated in that was happening Sunday. Riley would be on the call too, the first time I’d seen him since that night. I just hoped my pokerface was good enough to move on past any awkwardness.
“Let me get your thoughts on this,” Harry sits down across from me with a yoghurt. He’d just come from the gym and seeing him shirtless now was just another Thursday afternoon.
He’d taken to using me as a soundboard lately which started out interesting and got old quickly. He loved to hear himself talk, I’ve concluded. And I was forced to listen. And he always lied. He never wanted my thoughts on anything, just an ego stroke.
And just like usual he launches into a song he’s working on and something about string progression and inversion. I nod along until my phone rings and I pick it up instantly.
Graham and I speak about the details of event and I reassure him everything would run smoothly. When I’m done Harry’s nearly done the smoothie he grabbed while I was on the phone.
“Austria tomorrow, everything’s prepped?”
“Yep, for you.”
“Not for you?”
“I have the rest of the week off?” I remind him just like I’d been doing for the last two weeks. So this wouldn’t happen.
“You do? I thought that was next week. What am I gonna do without you there it’s 4 days.”
“I reckon you’ll survive,” I say with a light tone but I’ve learned the art of backhanded jokes. It felt like the only way to get some of my aggression out. “Plus Riley’s joining you Saturday afternoon.”
“So I’ll be alone on Friday?”
I look up from my laptop, “Are you ever really alone?”
“I guess I’ll just have to invite one of my girls to keep me company,” he continues watching me. “Keep my bed warm.”
“If you’d like,” I hated when he tried to make me uncomfortable. “Let me know which one and I can cut her a ticket.”
He clenches his jaw and levels me with an irritated look. “I’m sure Vienna has many beautiful people to choose from.”
Ignore ignore ignore. I go back to my screen and leave him on heard.
***
“It’s been too long,” Gray clinks his glass with mine. It’s Friday night and we’re having an early anniversary celebration.
This whole weekend I promised Gray I would be his from Friday though Sunday even though our actual anniversary was on Monday.
Our relationship that was once so strong, supportive, and loving had started treading rocky grounds. I felt jostled and very close to being kicked right off the ride altogether.
I look at my fiancé’s face, his dark features and serious looks made him look intimidating but a flicker of his smile and you felt like you were on the ins with him about something. I had missed him.
The last time we did anything together was at the beginning of summer. I had a long weekend off and he’d driven us to lake district, soaking in the sun and hiking along the peaks. We’d had a serious conversation about our relationship but a lot of it had felt like me apologizing and him accusing.
“You look radiant,” Gray reaches for my hand. “How are you?”
I didn’t think he wanted the real answer. I hold back a sigh and replace it with a smile, “Alright. Better now to be with you.”
He kisses the back of my hand and my stomach flutters. “Me too. I’m excited for this weekend.”
“Let’s see we’re seeing friends tomorrow for brunch, then doing old school movies and dinner in the evening.”
“That was one of our first dates don’t make fun.”
“I’m not! It’s a classic I’m excited. It’s been so long since I saw a movie with you.”
With Harry, I’d seen a few. I was always told to tag along on premieres Riley passed on.
“And Sunday we’re just being lazy bed bugs.”
“Mmm that sounds amazing.” I could use a day in bed. A week in bed would be even better.
The night is perfect and romantic and it soothes the heartache I’d been carrying, the guilt that I was killing my relationship. Gray is attentive and we laugh like we always did.
I don’t mention work. It makes me anxious knowing I had to put the biggest part of my life on mute in order to keep the good vibes going with Gray.
Saturday brunch brings me back to life. I’d missed our friends and catching up on their lives, all the chatter and the laughter. Gray keeps reaching for me at the table and I feel like I belong.
“So how’s the tyrant?” My friends had started calling Harry that since he always kept me from most of our social outings.
“The usual,” I try to keep it short for Gray’s sake.
“Grayson was complaining that you spend more time with him than your actual fiancé!”
“Is that so?” I turn to Gray with a teasing expression but he’s serious.
“I wouldn’t have helped her with the job if I knew,” Gray jokes when I nudge him. The table laughs but I fake it, knowing the kernel of truth in it.
“He can’t be all that bad?” Another friend asks.
“Nope. Pretty consistently bad,” I tell them. “I’m just telling myself it’s vital experience. It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”
“When she sleeps at all,” Gray slips in another passive joke and I try to distance myself from it.
“Just wait, in a couple years I’ll be living my best life.” I raise my glass.
“To y/n’s best life,” the table cheers.
On the walk home from brunch Gray and I swing hands in between us. I want to bring up his passive comments but it feels stuck in my throat. His hand feels like lead in mine.
“Gray-“
“I’m sorry. I got a bit salty at brunch,” Gray admits. I nearly deflate completely with the sigh that comes out of me.
“That’s okay,” I kiss his cheek. His hand feels like an extension of mine again. “I know there’s a lot of things we don’t talk about, I know my job doesn’t make you happy. But I appreciate that you still support me and keep the peace even when I can be a bit of a dick sometimes.”
“Hey,” Gray stops and tugs me to him. “I love you. Nothing changes that.”
“I love you too,” he kisses me with the same passion he did last night, our first intimate night after a couple months. With the urgency in his kiss I can tell it wouldn’t be another couple until the next.
***
We get back in around 8 and I happily kick off the dress and boots I wore to dinner to snuggle in my pjs. I watch Gray remove his contacts as I comb through my hair.
“I still can’t believe that ending,” Gray says to me in the mirror.
“Same, I feel like everyone’s kept it so hush I didn’t even know there was going to be a plot twist!”
“I kind of saw it coming-“
“You did not!” I flick Gray. “Why do guys love to brag about seeing a movie ending coming.”
“It’s our roman empire,” he grins.
“You’re using that in the wrong context,” I roll my eyes. “Josie would be so disappointed. Oh I didn’t even turn my phone back on after the movie, Josie had texted me something.”
“Just leave it,” Gray calls out as I go back into the room to get my purse. “Let’s keep our phones off, stay unplugged tonight.”
“Too late,” I grin as my phone powers on already.
I know Gray stayed nervous about any call I got during our down time because he always thought it was Harry. To be honest I was surprised he hadn’t bothered me more than asking for a password yesterday.
As my services connect my phone vibrates with a dozen oncoming messages.
“Y/n,” I hear Grayson say in warning but my eyes stay glued to the screen that flicker with notifications.
I look up once they settle, my eyes are as wide as saucers and Gray’s watch me through the mirror, heavy and resigned.
“Please, ignore it,” Gray pleads just once.
“I just…I need to know what it’s about.” I plead back.
“It’s going to spiral,” he warns. “You can’t just look y/n you’re gonna get involved.”
“What if it’s an emergency? He wouldn’t message like this unless it’s an emergency!”
“Like the documents on Josie’s birthday? Or the hospital appointment that one bank holiday? Or his empty fridge on-“
“I get it. But Gray I have 14 notifications. And it’s from his manager too it’s gotta be an-“
“You have a life y/n!” Gray turns around quick like a pistol whip, I stumble back into the doorframe. “He has other people in his life other than you they can figure it out! Why do you keep putting your job, this man, before me? Before us?!”
“I’m not trying to! I’m not!” I stutter.
“What’s the worst case scenario huh? He tries you, and you don’t answer because you’re off. And he’ll find someone else to help—those type always have someone else.”
“You don’t get it-“
“I get it.” Gray lowers his volume. He looks around for his glasses and slides them on. “I get it clearly. You’re just scared you’re replaceable to Harry Styles.”
His words stun me a little. All I can do is watch as he puts on jeans and grabs his phone.
“Do you ever wonder who else in your life’s replaceable?” Gray says before he slams our door shut.
I sink back and my mind races with everything Grayson just said. I was awful, he must feel even more awful and I-
My phone vibrates. Jeff.
“H-hi?” I answer.
“What the fuck y/n! I’ve been trying to reach you for the last 2 hours-“
“My phone was off-“
“Have you even gotten any of the messages we’ve left you-“
“I’m not working today-“
“Obviously,” He cuts me off for the hundredth time. “Harry’s in Vienna alone with god knows who!”
I don’t point out the contradiction in his sentence.
“Isn’t Riley supposed to be with him?”
“Riley quit.”
“What?! When?”
“Today. Apparently the sneak’s been cozying up with one of Harry’s supposed friends. He’s left us high and dry!”
“Is that why you’re calling me?” My confusion grows.
“Jesus no. Just look at your bloody messages.”
I put him on speaker and check the link to the photos he sent me. I gasp.
Harry looks a mess, one in a bar and another right outside it. With a questionable choice of friends.
“He’s not answering his phone,” Jeff continues. “Nobody can reach him and Riley decided to courier the stupid phone back to the penthouse so we don’t have access to his gps. But you do. That’s why I’m trying to reach you y/n. You’ve gotta go there and get him home.”
“Get him home? He’s in another country!”
“Yes, for that niche fucking awards show. You gotta get him back to his hotel and sober him up. We paid some fucker way too much money not to leak these photos and I don’t want to find out some other fucker took more.”
“Isn’t this something his publicist should be doing? Or you?” I’m starting to get angry. Why was Harry like a big fucking toddler that I had to go get when he was misbehaving. “I took the weekend off-“
“Listen. Y/n. We will pay you 5 times your rate if you just get on a plane and sort him out. I’m in Iceland right now. On holiday! Nobody is paying me 5 times the amount to deal with this and I don’t get back to the UK until tomorrow.”
“His publicis-“
“And Graham is the one that caught all this but he doesn’t fly out until tomorrow. So that leaves you. Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”
I think about Gray, should I call him? Let him know? Fuck. Fuck Harry and his ability to ruin my whole life.
“I don’t have a choice here do I?” I ask wearily.
“Sure you do, one gets you a nice pay check. The other doesn’t.”
“Fuck,” I swear just loud enough for him to hear. “Do you know when the next flight is.”
“There’s a private jet that can leave within the hour I’ll text you the address can you make it?”
I map it. 30 or so minutes away. I look around my room—I had my emergency duffle with my passport the Harry Survival Guide told me to keep so I didn’t need to pack much.
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
***
“Out of all the fucking nights,” I swear as I take the elevator down. The flight had been under 2 hours and I’d kept my eyes glued to Harry’s phone locator. He’d moved one location so far. The hotel wasn’t too far from this location so I drop my bags off on the en-suite and head out into the beautiful city.
It’s buzzing despite the hour and I wish it was a calmer trip so I could take pictures and soak in the beauty of Vienna.
Instead I trudge on to the little dot on my phone and avoid thinking about Gray and how much he would love this city. And how badly I betrayed him tonight.
What to do when he won’t answer the phone: track his gps, get good at lock-picking and don’t be shy to call whoever he’s out with to get ahold of him. Harry not answering his phone unexpectedly usually means bad decisions.
I find Harry in a kitschy club but it’s not easy. In the flashes of blue and purple lights I sort through all the men about the same height as him. None of them are him.
I knew he was here. I scan the room a second time, he had to be in one of the private sections.
I walk the perimeter until I see a flash of a familiar laugh.
“Harry!” I shout but a man in a suit steps in front of me.
“Private area,” he says in a rough accent.
“I’m his assistant I need to see him!” I point to Harry but he just steps in my way again. I shout Harry’s name and on the second try he looks up.
“Heyy!” He lights up and picks his way over the people sitting around him. He loops his arm around the brick wall in front of me. “That’s y/n! Y/n you came let her in!”
“Thank you,” I shoot the man a dirty look even though I knew he was just doing his job. He was the difference between a PR disaster and no disaster. “Harry we-“
“Have a drink!” He slurs. My heart quickens when I get a glimpse of the table with an assortment of drugs all over it. “Relax. C’mon c’mon!”
Harry pours me champagne and leads me by the hand to where he was just sitting. A couple shift away to make room for me but I stay standing as Harry sinks into the cushion.
“Mr. Styles we-“
“Ms. Y/L/N,” Harry says seriously before bursting into laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this uninhibited before. One part of me is nervous and another part finds it intriguing.
He tugs me down and I tip into the couch, the champagne sloshing over the rim. What the-
“Relax,” he whispers into my ear. It goes straight to my stomach. “Have some champagne and enjoy the night!”
“I want to-“
“Your fiancé won’t let you drink with me? Is that the issue here?”
“No,” I bite. “I am taking you back-“
“I,” Harry sits up and hovers over me. “I am not speaking to you until you drink! Good god woman, lean back! Relax! What do Americans say take a chill pill?”
“I don’t need a chill pill.”
Harry mimes zipping his lips closed.
I roll my eyes and bring the champagne to my lips to take a mock sip but he must anticipate this. Using his finger he tips the glass even further. Half of it drips down my chin.
“Agh!” I jerk the glass away but Harry just laughs. “This is so not funny.”
He leans in smiling. I expect him to stop but he continues moving into me until his lips are on my jaw. His mouth coasts over my skin before he buries his head in my neck where the champagne had dripped down leaving a pool of heat-
“Harry!” I jerk away and push my hands into his chest to prop him up. His eyes are half-closed but as intense as ever as he looks into mine.
What the fuck. What the fuck just happened.
My hands are shaking, steady only because of the force of Harry pressing into them. I feel the tears springing to my eyes, why the fuck did he just…
“Sorry,” he smiles, his finger brushing my cheek. “Y’had some champagne there.”
It was nothing, I tell myself. He’s drunk and taken god knows what. He’s out of his mind. And he was going for the champagne, not me.
I loosen my arms but he comes back towards me again.
“Fuck this,” I mutter. I push him back into the sofa and get up. “We are going back to the hotel. Now.”
“Just stay a little longer here. It’s life. I’m bloody famous!” His hands come around my waist to pull me towards him but I dig my heel in.
I grab him by the shirt and haul his lanky body up, it’s like lifting a slab of marble. We nearly fall into the table but I catch us on my back leg in time.
I get us outside and call a taxi. Harry sways into me and I help keep him up.
“S’cold,” he complains.
“It’s really not.” I look back to him but he doesn’t look good. I lean him against the wall gently. “Harry look at me.”
He eyes stay closed but his head bobbles and he starts to tip forward again.
“Harry!” I nearly slap him. Instead I push him against the wall and use my body to keep him propped upright. I grab his face in my hands. “Harry look at me you’re scaring me.”
“You’re scaring me,” he slurs.
I shake his face a bit and try to pry open an eye which makes him laugh.
“I was alone,” he mumbles.
“I am not carrying you into or out of that car so you better stay conscious.” I tap his cheek.
“You’re no fun.” He says and I ignore him. “I was alone but you came.”
“Not out of any choice,” I mumble.
Our taxi arrives and I’m shaking him every few minutes to keep him conscious. At the hotel I get some help to his room when they recognize his face.
I drop him in bed with a sigh of relief. He looked pathetic like that. And I wanted to cry out of frustration.
I take his shoes off and then his shirt, deciding to keep his trousers on. I leave a bottle of water on his bedside with painkillers and head to the bathroom. For the second time tonight I get ready for bed.
I scrub the sticky champagne out of my neck and block out the feeling of his lips on me. Block out the confusing feelings that arose.
I grab my phone and pray for a text from Gray but there’s nothing. I update Jeff and he sends me a thumbs up. All that and just a fucking thumbs up.
***
Still no text from Gray the next morning.
Harry’s still in bed when I get up. I crack on and order both of us breakfast, ordering the most expensive things just to get something out of being here.
Harry wakes to the smell of coffee, groaning as soon as he sits up. I don’t know what he took last night but it serves him right.
“Y/n?” He sounds just as confused as last night.
“In the flesh,” I nearly growl.
“I thought Riley’s s’pose to be here?”
“So you do remember I’m supposed to be off all weekend.” I can’t hold back on the sass. I’m too mad at everyone.
“Yeah…what?”
“Riley quit.”
“Riley…quit? That’s why you’re here?”
“No.” I want to throw my cup of coffee in his face. “I’m here because you weren’t answering your phone last night and the only updates we were getting were compromising pictures of you absolutely pissed.”
“You sound like my publicist.”
“Your publicist had to pay the photographer off.”
“It couldn’t be that bad,” Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed and winces. He notices the painkillers and pops them. “Did you undress me?”
I pull the photos up on my phone and show them to him. He throws the phone down on the bed after a glance.
“Okay so he sent you to get me back to the hotel?”
“Jeff called me.”
“Jeff’s on holiday.”
“So was I.” My anger brews over. “I had 2 fucking days off Harry and I couldn’t even get that! You had to go to Vienna and get pappd doing the stupidest shit and of course I have to come in and save your ass because I can’t get any time these days to just be!”
He groans as he gets up and shuffles towards me. My heart picks up speed but he simply reaches for the coffee and takes a big gulp. The silence stretches out after my outburst and I wait with an anxious anger for what comes out of his mouth.
“You didn’t have to come. I could have lived with the consequences of being an idiot last night-“
“Jeff didn’t give me a choic-“
“There’s always a choice,” he holds up his finger to my face, hovering an inch from my lips. “Jeff can’t do shite. If he fired you he needs my final say. So again, I didn’t ask you to come here.”
Fuck him, I think. Does he really think I could have said no and gone on with my night? Since it didn’t come out of his mouth, he vanishes any accountability? He’d totally at fault here.
“Secondly,” he wasn’t finished I guess and his eyes are like laser beams into my soul. “It’s Mr. Styles.”
Anything I was about to mouth off on disappears. Like a sinkhole it all collapses below the surface and I’m left feeling as I always did—humiliated.
“Now,” Harry puts his cup down. “That’s not to say thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. I don’t remember a lot of it so I’m not sure what happened but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.”
I don’t answer. I bite my tongue until it falls right off and I can swallow it. I wish I could also swallow the memory of his lips that spring to mind.
“It is a Sunday, if you’d like to take it off feel free. The stylist team is coming around 4 to get me ready for tonight.”
“Well, you’ll need me to coordinate this evening since that was the point of Riley being here,” my voice comes out smoother than I felt.
“Ok,” he dismisses me. “I need a shower.”
He leaves and I clench my fists to keep from throwing everything within range at him. How could he flip the script like this? Turn my life upside down and then act like he did nothing wrong?
I go to my phone and hover over Grayson to call him but i have a notification from him. He’s sent me a message, it’s a link.
I click it. It’s a small article in a tabloid about Harry Styles and his mystery woman. You can’t tell it’s me but our pose looks intimate from last night—him leaning against the wall with my knee in between his legs and my body propping him up while my hands hold his face.
But Grayson knows its me.
I get my other phone and message it in the group with Harry’s publicist.
He responds casually: It’ll blow over don’t worry. Can’t see your face plus romantic is better than looking fucked up like the other pics.
It would blow over for Harry but not for me.
I try to call Grayson but he doesn’t pick up.
I close the room door and bury myself in bed, aching so hard it was hard to believe I was still breathing. It felt like an end, I know I could talk it through with Grayson and explain once he saw the other photos. But something feels like it died tonight.
***
“Y/n?” A voice sings outside my door. “Helloo?”
I feel hungover as I open my crusty eyes. I’m in an unfamiliar room and-
“Hello hello?”
I sit up. I was in a hotel suite and I had to help get Harry to his show. Shit.
I look at the time, it’s nearly 5.
“Sorry!” I shout at whoever was behind the door. “Sorry one sec!”
One look in the mirror and I know I had to throw my hair up. I swish some mouthwash around and exit to the lounge.
“Hi,” a woman I’ve never met smiles kindly at me.
“Sorry. Did you need something from me?”
“Yes,” she takes my arm and leads me towards where Harry was getting his hair done. He looks amused as he watches me. “I need you here. We need to get you ready.”
“Oh no,” I say but sit where I’m told by this commanding woman. “Oh I’m just helping coordinate so you just focus on Mr.-“
“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice cuts me off. “Riley comes with me to these things when Jeff isn’t around. Since neither are here you’re joining me and Graham.”
I look for his publicist but I’m told he was running late. Great.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” I say as the woman takes a wet wipe to my face. “I thought I had Sunday off.”
“You reminded me you’re replacing Riley,” Harry says. “And I got the team to get you a few things but I don’t know your size. I’m sure one of them will fit. Kit can tailor it if you need.”
“Wha…” my face is positioned to the side and cream is dotted all over. I shut my mouth and glance at Harry which becomes a glare when I realize he’s enjoying this.
“Lighten up Y/N, it’s not the end of the world.”
He didn’t know. It was the end of my world.
***
The red carpet or whatever this imitation of it was is a sensory nightmare. Graham had explained on the car over I was to stick to the shadows with him and his security detail. I don’t know why they stuck me in this beautifully tailored pantsuit just to be in the shadows. But apparently I could keep it so I was happy about that.
While Harry gets his name shouted and photos taken I watch from the side, hiding behind Graham’s shoulder so I don’t get caught in any pictures. The flashes still make my head hurt.
Again, we stand off to the side as Harry gets interviewed by labels I recognized and others that must be local. One woman has the nerve to ask,
“So Harry the whole internet is dying to know who your mystery woman is. Would you like to give our viewers a hint?”
I stiffen and Graham glances my way with a warning look. He’d already prepped Harry in the car but I couldn’t believe someone would be so bold as to ask. But that was show business.
“Ah you know what the media’s like, all out of context. I love the theories especially the one about this being my secret fiancé but I would like the viewers to know I’m not engaged, very much single, and not to believe everything you see online.”
I hold my breath as Harry answers but he’s a natural, I had to admit. He went off script a little—he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge the content of the photo, but he did so with grace and humour. Wow. I could learn a few things.
Graham relaxes beside me once the reporter laughs and asks if he sees himself not being single any time soon. When we finally move on Graham wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder and gives it a shake.
“You did good kid,” he kisses his cheek with all the leftover adrenaline from the carpet. “I’ll see you in there. I see some friends I want to catch up with first.”
Then it’s just Harry and I, and his shadow of a security detail who Harry dismisses while he’s inside the room.
“So I guess now’s the part you go to your seat?” I ask. There was no What to do at an Awards Show so I was clueless and I decided I would create one myself to keep the legacy of all these dos and don’ts.
“It is,” Harry looks…nervous? His eyes flicker around the room and his jaw twitches. I do a sweep of my own, there’s a lot of people I don’t recognize and those I do I’m just about dying trying to stay casual.
“I thought that reporter was going to propose after you cleared up how single you were.”
“Hm?” Harry looks at me—in heels I was finally near eye-level to him. His gaze clears as he takes in what I said and I consider it a win getting him back down to earth. “Oh. Her, yeah she was cheeky with those questions wasn’t she?”
His smile makes me stomach dip. “Yeah she slipped them in so expertly. I thought ‘I have to take some tips from her’. And you, you were good dodging the question.”
“I didn’t lie,” Harry’s now fully engaged in our conversation. I give myself a pat on the back. “It was just you and I am still single.”
Just you. I fake a laugh, “Yeah. That photo is proof that I’m stronger than I look because you were deadweight and I managed to get you to bed y’know that.”
His green eyes flicker up and down my face for a beat. “I know that. I…hope that picture didn’t get you into any trouble.”
I look away, unsure how to answer. He brings a hand to my arm. “I can talk to someone if it helps?”
“Oh no,” my cheeks flush. “No I don’t think that would make anything better but thank you. I…appreciate the-“
“Harry? Oh my god it’s you!”
I retreat in a quarter of a second, invisible once again for Harry to shine with his colleagues. It’s a singer I recognize but I only remember her stage name, Dragon something. I watch them embrace and I try to wind up the spool of thread I’d released when Harry showed some kindness.
I think I had some issues, I became unrecognizable every time Harry was nice for a moment. I had to remember that it was temporary and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross.
Yesterday flashes into my mind. God, was it just yesterday?
Harry starts walking with the other musician arm in arm. It comes to me as I follow why I knew her. There were rumours shortly before I interviewed with Harry about seeing him on the town with this woman. So they had history. Of course.
By the time Graham joins me in our seats I’ve become part of the wallpaper and I feel like I’m being torn away when he acknowledges me to ask if everything had gone ok. I stay invisible for the rest of the evening and I try to remember that’s how it would be.
***
We’re sat on the tarmac for the ride home and I try to refresh my messages over and over but Gray hasn’t responded after I’d told him we had to talk. He was stupidly good at the cold shoulder and I felt like a needy bitch whenever he got like this.
“Could I get a water y/n?” Harry asks from across the aisle. He has his head tipped back and he looks awful—consequences of an after party where he drank himself silly again and relied on me to get him home. I did make friends with some other PAs who were roped to the party so that was the only highlight.
“Sure.” I go to the front of the jet where Graham is typing away on his laptop, oblivious to the rest of us. I grab Harry a coffee too. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
Harry accepts it graciously and I go back to refreshing my phone.
I thought he’d fallen asleep an hour into the flight until he unbuckles his seat and slips in beside me.
“Can I get your phone?” He holds his hand out.
“Why?” I ask suspiciously.
“You’re driving me crazy refreshing that thing it’s like you’re getting paid per refresh.”
I was lost in a trance doing it. I put the phone facedown on my lap but he takes it from me.
“Hey-“
“I’m keeping this until we land. I promise you if you haven’t gotten any messages by now you won’t get any at all.”
His patronizing tone wriggles something loose and I have to look away, out the window, so he doesn’t see the tears.
“My offer still stands,” he says quietly after my silence. I shake my head.
“Thanks,” my voice wavers. “It won’t help. He just gets…quiet. Any time there’s an issue he just goes quiet and it drives me f…crazy. I feel crazy.”
“You kind of look it.” I’m ready to throw him a dirty look but Harry’s smiling when I look at him. I was rarely on the receiving end of such a handsome look that I forget I was going to be mad. “What? You do, hunched over your phone pressing down over and over. My neck hurts just looking at you.”
I sigh and leans back into the seat, trying to straighten myself out.
“Sorry,” I sniffle. “I just need some sort of proof of life from him. He knows it drives me crazy when he ignores me but he does it anyway. He could be dead for all I know. Anyway, I’ll stop now you can give me my phone back.”
“Mmm no,” Harry pats the pocket he put it in. “You listen to me. It stays here.”
I don’t fight him. It was for my own good.
He sits with me for the rest of the flight. It should be uncomfortable but having another person’s presence beside me—knowing there was a shoulder pressing against mine, makes me feel a little less lonely today.
He probably didn’t intend that, I rethink the thought. Harry wasn’t thoughtful like that, he was probably just too lazy to move back.
We take the car home when we land but Harry tells me to take the rest of the Monday off even though it was already 2.
“And y/n,” Harry stops me before I exit the car where it stalls outside my complex.
“Yes?” I wait for the other shoe to drop—I had the day off but…
“If he knows it drives you crazy, and he truly loves you, he should respect you and give you a chance to talk. You deserve that.”
My breath catches at the unexpected words. I feel my defences go up.
“You’ll work it out,” he rushes on when I don’t respond.
I’m left feeling slightly reassured and mostly confused.
“Thank you,” I look at him a beat too long and it feels awkward so I scramble out and head up. To someone I hope was willing to listen like Harry said.
***
Like a baby calf out of the womb, my relationship stays on shaky grounds. It feels like building a foundation all over again after thinking that was already done with, but Hurricane Harry had caused a lot of damage.
Now 9 months into my new job I wasn’t always so on edge. But I was busy.
With no Riley, the team had decided to hold off on hiring anyone new and my work load had tripled. I’d brought it up casually and just as casually Harry had let me know I would be compensated.
I thought about Vienna a lot. Things were done and said there that should change our dynamic but didn’t. Not much. Harry was still an ass, he still demanded most of my time, and I still suffered from major anxiety about my life falling apart.
So maybe I was still on edge, just about different things.
“G’morning,” Gray whispers to me. I wanted to sleep in and cuddle with my fiancé but I’d already snoozed my alarm and I knew I had to get to work. I had errands to run all over town.
“Morning,” I burrow my head into his warm body. “I don’t wanna work.”
He kisses the top of my head. “How about I join you on some of those errands you mentioned? We can get coffee?”
I’m suddenly excited about going to work.
Gray laughs when I climb over him and kiss him like a lunatic, and we’ve been together too long to be embarrassed about morning breath or pillow face. I can’t believe I almost lost him.
The day is perfect as Gray and I move around town doing odd bits. We get to grab lunch together and I’m so glad what a good sport Gray had been about it all since I’d forced him to carry any heavy items.
“I’ll see you for dinner,” Gray drops me off at Harry’s. We linger in the lobby for a few minutes. “I’m cooking.”
“Mmm can’t wait,” I kiss him before taking the load from him. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“I had fun, I hate to admit it.” He grins as I walk backwards to the elevator. He takes my breath away.
Grayson’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something but I collide into a body behind me before he can warn me.
“Oh shit sorry I-“ I turn and Harry stands behind me with Jeff walking off the elevator. He was probably headed to the studio and I was late. Dammnit!
“Y/N,” Harry says.
“I’m so. Sorry,” I look between Gray, Jeff, and Harry. Do I introduce everyone? Do I apologize and rush to drop these things off so I could join them like I’m supposed to?
Jeff makes it easy, walking away on his phone. Then it’s Harry and Gray.
“I’m sorry I meant to be upstairs five minutes ago.” I tell Harry who’s expression is hard to read. “Uhm…this is Grayson my fiance I don’t think y’all have met he was just dropping me off since I had my hands full. Um. Gray this is…well you know who this is I-“
My blabbering is cut short as Harry steps forward to shake hands and I nearly die at the steely look Gray gives him. Also, why the fuck did I say y’all?! I wasn’t even southern.
“Grayson Duran yeah? Nice to meet you,” Harry says. I’m surprised he knows his full name. He must have asked his friends.
“Yeah,” Gray drops his hand. “The infamous Harry Styles—I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” Harry says, glancing at me. Why would he say that. “As much as I’d love to chat, y/n you’re late and we’re heading to the studio. Can you give all that to the concierge?”
“Yes,” I nod. “Have you got-“
“I grabbed my things yes. I’ll see you in the car.”
Harry nods to Gray and leaves an air of cologne and annoyance behind. Gray and I lock eyes and I burn with embarrassment.
“What a dick,” Gray mumbles.
I’m offended, wait, why am I offended? It’s not like Harry wasn’t a dick.
“Yeah, I gotta go sorry babe.” I rush to the concierge and explain the delivery.
“Y’all?” Gray asks when I rush back to him.
“I know I know,” I cringe. “It just came out. I gotta go but thank you so much for today. Loveyoubye!”
I give him a quick peck and rush out, nearly collapsing into Harry’s car.
“Sorry about that, being late. That won’t happen again I meant to be there before you left-“
“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Harry says stiffly, staring out the window. He was a dick, Gray was right. But why was I so offended at him saying that right after meeting him?
Things felt so confusing these days and I just wanted time to catch my breath and figure things out. A few more weeks and I’d get some time off for the holidays at least, I was looking forward to that.
***
Even though I planned the intimate holiday party and spent countless hours on the phone making sure every detail would be perfect I can’t help but criticize it as I join.
“Maybe I should have gone with a live band,” I mutter as someone takes mine and Grayson’s coats. Tonight I was supposed to shut my brain off as Harry said, and enjoy the party as a guest. But that part was hard to shut off after nearly 10 months of re-wiring it.
Grayson was tough to convince but finally he’d agreed to come to the party. Things were mostly back to normal with us. I tried to be home by 7 most nights and didn’t talk about work too much.
But sometimes it felt like a volcano lived inside me with how much I had to compartmentalize and keep in and when times got really tough, I wanted to spew everywhere.
“Josie told me your mom’s doing bohemian Christmas?” I ask Gray as we hover by the foyer. I’d just had a catchup with her yesterday now that she was finished exams. “Do you know what that means.”
“Mum’s crazy,” Gray sighs. His relationship with her was always followed by a sigh, an eye roll, a heavy resignation for who she was. I never quite understood it.
Josie, on the other hand, loved their loud and free-spirited mother. As for me, I thought she was the most interesting woman I ever met and we’d gotten along instantly.
“She’s always got some new idea up her sleeve,” I try to make things more positive. “What do you want a bet it’s going to be vegan?”
“I don’t bet when I know that’s what she’s serving. That’s why we do dad’s for lunch and hers for dinner. We’re too stuffed once we get there to care what she’s serving.”
“Remember when I tried to get you to go vegan and-“
“Y/N! Hi,” I’m interrupted by a friendly face in the crowd and end up chatting with people I’d worked with the last few months. We introduce our partners and they chat but I keep an eye on Grayson, in case anything changes.
I watch Harry’s friends trickle in and Gray lights up when he sees Liam and a few other people he trained.
I flit around the room with ease after that, knowing Gray had friends to keep him company. I make sure drinks are filled and catering is setting up. Until a hand stops me.
“You’re not supposed to be working tonight,” Harry reminds me.
“Yes. Right. Well…”
“Y/N,” he warns.
“Okay!” I throw my hands up. “Not working, here look I’m enjoying myself!”
I pick up a random drink and take a big sip. Champagne. Suddenly I remember the last time I drank champagne in front of Harry and I nearly cough it back up.
“Ugh,” Harry hands me a napkin and I try not to bristle. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “Yeah sorry just…just not a fan of champagne.”
We lock eyes and I’m gripped with the sudden and very real possibility that Harry may actually remember parts of that night.
When his eyes flicker down to my neck, it’s confirmed. Oh god.
“Well! I’m off to find a better drink!” I turn too quickly, nearly taking out the caterer who was setting up hors d’œuvres on the table. “Sorry!”
Oh my god. Harry remembered.
Did he remember this whole time? Was he pretending to forget that night? Did he ever remember the moment randomly in my presence like I did?
I had to stop freaking out. It had been months!
Where was Grayson.
I locate my fiancé in a random group but his eyes are already on me. I raise a hand and he smiles, raising a finger to tell me he’d be there in a moment.
My mind races in the meantime, wondering if I should mention the incident to Harry and tell him I was fine. Or maybe that proved the opposite. No. I should just keep it unspoken like we had this whole time. Oh my god!
“Quite a turnout,” Grayson comes back to me. Two drinks in his hand. “I saw you talking to Harry why did you look so scared? Did he say something?”
“Oh!” Of course Gray saw. “No. I just…almost choked on my champagne the fizz y’know? And then I didn’t want to make a scene so I left.”
“Hm,” Gray wraps his hand around my waist. “Hey I see a mistletoe I’m going to nudge you in that direction.”
“You don’t need a mistletoe to kiss me babe.”
“It’s supposed to be romantic.”
I let him lead me to it and he kisses me with a knee-bending passion.
“Woah,” I feel dazed when we finally part. “That was fucking romantic.”
“Yeah?” He grins.
“Excuse me!” Harry’s voice rings over the crowd and the room hushes slowly. “Uh hiya! Thank you all for coming tonight and making me feel like I have friends during the holidays.”
A quiet laugh rumbles over the crowd. Harry looks magnetic on his makeshift podium, he’s in a cozy red sweater that I know cost more than my month’s salary and a collar peeks out from under it. He’s got on navy slacks and tinsel thrown over his shoulder. I’d bought that sweater, I remember. But he managed to pull the rest of the outfit together well.
“…a few people.” He continues. I’d zoned out. “My manager Jeff of course—this year has been a roller coaster and you’ve managed it all. Charlie, Claire, Niji, Elin, Sarah, and Mitch. We had a ball playing our hidden shows this fall but we have so much planned for the year ahead. I’m beyond grateful that you all came into my life and we get to make music together!”
A few whoops in the crowd and the people he mention raise their hands and shout out their own praises to Harry.
Harry thanks a few more people and says some more kind words. I don’t expect him to zero in on me.
“Last, but not least folks, I want to thank somebody who joined my team this year. She’s seen a lot—she’s been in the trenches my friends, she has. But she’s stuck with me. She’s planned everything tonight so really you’re all here because of her. Y/N, please make yourself known and everyone should give her a thank you if you talk to her tonight for tonight.”
Oh god. I am as bright as Harry’s sweater and with every single eye turning on me I’m sure I also turn every shade of the rainbow. I paste on a grin that feels like I’m the Joker and hope it looks normal.
I wave awkwardly and make eyes with Harry across the room who looks like he’s having a ball putting me in the centre of everyone’s attention. I was really going to wring his neck but he winks at me and finally turns the attention back to him with a few closing words, then starting the music and food.
“Am I alive?” I ask Gray beside me whose hand had dropped from my waist during the last few minutes. “I think I died of embarrassment and turned into the ghost of Christmas’ present.”
I turn to Gray and he looks around me. “Hello? Is someone talking to me?”
“Gray!” I push his shoulder and he laughs. “I hated every second of that.”
“I know,” Gray laughs again. “You hate attention.”
“I do! I swear Harry was up there gloating didn’t you notice? Ugh I hate him.”
Gray’s expression shutters for a second. “Yeah, he definitely knew what he was doing.”
“Y/N, quite a shoutout.” A voice says from my right. It’s Liam who I hadn’t seen myself in ages. I go in for a hug and hope my embarrassment clears away as we catch up.
As the night goes on I ease up a little, enjoy the mingling and the drinks. Especially the drinks. The evening’s embarrassment and everyone coming up to me knowing my name was hell so I drink to keep up the liquid courage.
Coming out of the toilets for the tenth time that night with all the drinks I was downing, I notice a light on in the room.
I go to it, in case it was a guest in a place they shouldn’t be.
I don’t spot him at first, flicking off the lights only to see a shadow move. Harry.
“Oh! It’s you. Is everything alright?” I lean in the doorway. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in this office actually. He always hovered outside it like I was now.
“Yeah yeah, just came for some air.” He walks up to me and I step out of the way so he can leave. But he stays just inside so I move back to my spot.
“Air? In the smallest room here?”
“Yeah,” he smiles like he’s been caught. “I was looking for you. We ran out of ice I just don’t remember where you stored the rest.”
“Well I’m not working remember? So I don’t know.”
“Touché. I guess the guests will just have a shite time with their lukewarm drinks.”
Ugh. He knew me too well.
“Fine. I’ll get the bag. By the way, that wasn’t funny. What you did earlier.” I put my hands on my hips, ready to give him a piece of my mind for embarrassing me.
“What!? It wasn’t meant to be funny. I’m expressing my gratitude y/n.”
“In front of a whole room of random people who are all looking at me? You know I would have hated it!”
“Let’s just say I’m trying to get you out of your shell,” Harry teases. He smells of his usual cologne, the fresh soap he used, and scotch. I spot the empty glass on my desk.
“I’m plenty out of my shell thank you. You know, you could have just said it to me privately. That would have meant more.”
His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He inhales sharply and turns around.
“What?” I ask his back.
“Nothing.” He turns back around. “You do good work y/n, people should know.”
Now it’s my turn to go quiet. I only seemed to do this when Harry was nice. Because otherwise I knew how mean he could be. Why couldn’t there just be a balance.
“Why are you so randomly nice to me?”
Oops. All those drinks made for some loose lips.
“What?” He’s taken aback.
“Yeah,” I feel fired up now that it’s out. “You ignore me half the time—not that I expect to be bffs but at least a hello now and then would be nice. Then when you do talk it’s grunts and clipped answers. You’re pretty mean to me! And suddenly out of nowhere it’s like-like this 180 and you’re really nice. And praising me in front of a crowd. What’s up with that?”
His expression retreats the more I talk and I know I’ve dug myself into a hole. Forget the whole speech just now I’m pretty sure I’ve just written my own termination notice.
“I have to be,” he says simply after an awkward pause.
“Have to?” I demand. “You have to be mean to me?”
The long deleted Dos and Dont list when I first joined flashes through my mind. Did that have something to do with it?
“Because when I spoke to Riley that one time for drinks, he told me you weren’t always this mean. So is it me? You just said to a whole crowd how helpful I am so I just don’t get why you’re so mean sometimes!”
“What else did Riley say?” Harry hangs on to that.
“I…a lot I dunno! Riley faffs a lot. He’s also a creep but that’s neither here nor there I-“
“What do you mean he’s a creep?” The room feels even smaller as he zeroes in.
“I-“ I try to stutter something to change the subject but he stays on, asking me again. “It’s nothing. He was drunk and he made a pass at me-“
“He did?! Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s zero space between the two of us now.
“Why would I? It was something that happened outside work hours, plus you warned me and I didn’t listen-“
“Y/n you should have told me,” he swears. “I let that little shite get away with way too much.”
“Yeah well he’s not the only person working here who’s made a drunken pass at me so let’s not make it a big deal okay?”
I guess I wasn’t holding back.
Harry closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. One mississippi two mississippi three-
“You’re right.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I want to get out of this room, find Gray, and stay in the light. Because this small, dimly lit space was becoming too intimate. And yet, I can’t seem to will myself to move.
“I am?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It doesn’t cut it—what I did was incredibly wrong. Being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse and I promise I don’t go around doing that to everyone-“
“I know,” I say before thinking. It was weird of Harry to do but I never felt unsafe with him. I understood what he was trying to say.
“You can make it a big deal if you want. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again.”
I feel weird having the roles reversed—Harry apologizing to me. Promising not to do something again. I recognize what he’s doing is right but I don’t know what to do with myself. My breathing’s shallow with Harry so close to me, practically hovering over me. I should’ve worn higher heels to really equal the field.
“Thanks,” I finally manage. It’s low and raspy and I barely get in enough air to speak it. He doesn’t respond.
We stay in the tableau, our breathing irregular, in between a single decision that both of us knew wouldn’t end well. Yet neither of us are strong enough to end the frozen display.
“You clean up nice,” he says, eyes never leaving mine as he compliments my getup. I’d worn a simple cowl-necked slip dress and strappy shoes with my hair in an up-do. I was definitely underdressed after seeing the other guests but I believe Harry means it.
“Don’t look as haggard as I usually do, you mean?” I find my voice again. I barely have to whisper for him to hear.
“You never look haggard,” Harry says as he brings his hand up and traces the curve of my dress strap. My heartbeat was loud and surely showing through my dress.
“You should go,” Harry adds in a whisper.
My head feels like it’s filled with carbonation as I nod in agreement. This was bad. With a capital B. I had to go.
“I…should go.” I repeat. Slowly I inch sideways on the wall and Harry leans away. We stare at each other for another long moment before I scurry away, my heart in my throat and my guilt where my heart should be.
“Don’t forget the ice,” I hear Harry call out from the room. Miraculously this is exactly when Grayson turns the corner.
“Y/n? Where were you?”
“Oh I-“ I imagined I looked fucked up. Because I felt high and out of my mind. The white lie comes out, attached to a thread that unstitches something within. “I drank too much, so I was in the toilet.”
“Oh,” Gray looks relieved and I’m sinking with guilt. Technically I did nothing wrong. I didn’t even have feelings for Harry. But whatever physical magnetism he seemed to have nearly made me do something I’d seriously regret. “Did I hear someone say something about ice?”
“Yeah!” I laugh and it comes out like I had never learned how. “I just bumped into Harry, we ran out of ice. So much for not working huh?”
“At least everyone knows how hard you work,” he jokes.
I stick to Gray’s side for the rest of the night, not touching a single drop of alcohol. I had to forget everything in that room ever happened if I wanted to keep my job and my sanity. I had to be a better person, the devil was handsome and I had to stop playing into his tricks.
I call it quits a few hours later when I notice Gray low on energy.
“I’ll get our coats,” I tell him. The relief on his face is palpable.
I go through where the spare closet was but hear voices in Harry’s darkened room. The door’s open so I go to investigate. I regret it instantly.
Harry’s inside with a woman, I don’t see much of her as she’s on the bed but I know it’s Harry with the tone of his voice as they exchange words.
My stomach drops and it’s like an accident on the side of the road, I’m mortified but I can’t look away.
I watch him kiss her and I feel like I’m sinking through the floorboards.
“Oh!” The woman notices me when she turns her head and pulls the sheet up. She whispers, “you didn’t close the-“
“Oh it’s fine,” Harry laughs. He sits back on his legs and looks at me, his expression void of anything he was tonight. Like the moment in the room didn’t even happen. “It’s just y/n.”
Of course it didn’t matter to him, I scold myself. I was the one with fucked up issues that couldn’t make up my stupid mind about how I wanted to feel about this man who literally paid me to be around. Who treated me like shit most of the time. Who was nice to me sometimes and I misconstrued it to mean a whole lot more.
What was I thinking? Did I think suddenly this man who’s known to be a player had a single one-sided intense moment with me and that would change him?
I was an absolute idiot.
“Could you get the door?” Harry asks so casually, so nonchalantly, that it punches me in the chest. It was closer to some combination of humiliation and self-inflicted hurt but for now it feels like my chest aches.
“O-of course.” I shut the door and stand there, taking in deep breaths as I try not to think about everything that just happened. Tried not to think of all the million ways I was the worst girlfriend in the world. Tried not to think about the fact that I had to quit sooner than later because things were getting tangled up and it was not okay.
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I’m trying to make part 3 the last—it includes your final decisions and returning to the present to find out what happens (from the beginning of the story). Thank you, as always, for reading <3 xx
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